IT'S THE SMALL THINGS
I write this on the third week of women’s month, and on the 14th year since the passing of a woman who significantly shaped my life. I now realize more than ever how apt it is that a woman who had shaped so much of who I am today celebrates her birthday in heaven on the month that shines the spotlight on women – especially those just like her. I have written about her numerous times here, and two years ago, in a memoir of sorts, yet, no matter how much I do, I never run out of things to say, anecdotes to share, and lessons that I have learned. Allow, and indulge me once again the opportunity to shine light on Consuelo Madrigal – not as society’s grand-dame as many may know her, nor as one of the most astute of businesswomen with a vision way ahead of her time. But rather, on the wonder woman she was to me.
I cannot think of any other person besides my parents and immediate household that I spent time with every single day from the very day I was born, until the day she passed on. For 17 years, there would be a void in my day – an inexplicable emptiness – if for one reason or another, my daily routine of visiting her, and talking about anything and everything under the sun in her dressing room, her sanctuary, was interrupted. In her presence, no matter how terrible a day I had, I always felt secure. She managed to make me feel my worth – perhaps a bit too much even for a child and adolescent. I attribute much of the self-confidence, security, and ability to turn a blind eye on naysayers as a young girl to the outpour of love she blessed me (and those who knew her) with, her maybe biased extremely positive impression of me, her stern, yet comforting way of giving advise, and her magnanimous heart that only knew how to give wholeheartedly. It is largely because of how she lived her life that my moral compass was formed, and that a lot would refer to me as four going on forty-five as a youngster.
Perhaps, it is also because of her that I have no qualms in social settings. That while small talk sometimes makes me uneasy, and I would rather have deep meaningful conversations with good friends, that I have somehow maneuvered the art of getting by. It was with her that I first discovered the magic of New York City, and because of her, and the many memories we made there, that my love affair with the Big Apple was created. She always reminded me of my self-worth, but never failed to show me that you must humble yourself in instances when you are wrong – that it is only correct to admit your faults and account for your mistakes. In the long run, it translates to credibility and accountability. She also taught me that in some instances, I will find that I will be glad to have been wrong.
It was because of her that at the carefree age of 13, it was inculcated in me to guard my heart, and not to give it to just anyone. That when the day comes, I must only marry for love, and no other reason because marriage, she would always tell me, is a decision you make, that comes with a choice to work on it every single day, and to always see the best side of your partner. On dimmer days, she would say, it is that love you will turn to that will see you through. And I could not be happier for heeding that advice.
I could go on, and on, and on. And I wish people I have met later in life after her passing who have become so dear to me could have had the chance to meet her – my husband, most especially. But such is life, and I know that from where she is, when I expect it the least, she comes around, and makes her presence felt. When things fall into place, whether or not I prayed for them, I know she has a hand. In her words, truly, “The people who love you will never say goodbye.” She is a reminder to me today, and everyday that “Love will evolve…live on…and never leave” (Josh Groban).