Joann Angulo

I have been reflecting a lot on mortality lately, and how we, with our finite time on this planet, should consider it.
The birth of River and my 40th birthday were real catalysts, but I also cannot ignore the signs my body is presenting–the grey in my hair and the aches and pains in my joints–all reminders that I am deep into my journey and that ultimately it will end. So, how should I think about this? I could rejoice in knowing I have experienced this precious life. Or I could despair in knowing that this will all end–that everything I love and everything that loves me will cease to exist. The more I mull these thoughts around in my head, the more I lean toward a bittersweet compromise.
I am truly thankful for my life and for the people I have loved and who have given their love to me. In the end, to me, this is where the true and genuine glory of life is–in those we keep close and those that shape our lives through their love.
Joann was one of those genuine individuals. She was the epitome of a strong woman, even too strong at times. She, like so many women of her generation, held our families together. With her strength of will and spirit and through sacrifice and hard work, she imbued her strength into you. With that same strength and her wry sense of humor, she loved us all as sons and daughters, and we loved her back. She has pushed me not to lament this short time we are given, but to cherish and protect it as the precious thing it is. I wish we had 20 more years with her, but we are blessed to have been given any time at all.
I can’t claim to know the reasons we are here or why, if it is the will of god(s) or random acts of chemical elements. What I do know now is that I find solace in that she lives on through all of us who knew and loved her. I hope I can emulate her in that way, through her example, with kindness and strength for those I love.

Losing someone you care about isn’t easy. A mother figure to many always giving advice, making sure we didn’t get into too much trouble, and just being there for everyone. I can still hear how you call my name. You are gone but not forgotten. Rest in peace Ms Joann

To my Abuela, I still have a million questions to ask you about your life experiences and adventure stories. We made so many fun and new memories that I am so glad I got to experience with you. One of my favorite memories with you was when you picked me up on a Saturday morning and took me out for a girls’ day. We went to Freddy’s, picked up some food, and ate in your car at the park where I played soccer. You told me how you loved watching me play soccer and loved to cheer me on. It’s going to be hard knowing you won’t be at my games and cheering me on, saying “GO ANAIAH MARIE”. I’m going to miss going to your house for special occasions or regular days and eating my favorite yummy chicken and rice. I’ll miss catching you smiling at me from across the table and telling me how beautiful I am. I’m going to miss car rides on the way to the PX and you telling me stories about my dad and how much joy he brought to your life. I will miss that moment last year on July 7th, 2022, when you brought me a very special book – a book that had pictures of you in it. We flipped through those pages, and each one had a message on the back of every picture you gave me. You would tell me how beautiful and sexy you used to be, and I would say, “And you still are.” I’m so grateful that you wrote something on the back of each one of them because your handwriting was beautiful, and I loved seeing those pictures. I will forever cherish that memory picture book. I love you from the bottom of my heart, and as you would say, “I love you forever and always.” I’ll cherish my memories and the cross necklaces you gave me forever. I’ll look at those text messages every year on my birthday that you would send me, and now that I’m not getting one this year, I’ll cherish those messages even more and read them over and over every year for my birthday. Even the quiet car rides on the way to the store were always enjoyable, hearing your little keychains in your car jingle every time we hit a speed bump. I’ll miss the days when you taught me how to braid and would tell me to practice constantly, and I did and I learned how to. Thank you for turning my frown upside down when I needed it the most. I’ll miss your long kisses on my head and forehead. I’ll miss you asking me to help fix your “iPhone watch”. I’ll miss grooving to Michael Jackson in your living room. I’ll miss you greeting me with a warm hug and long kiss on the cheek. I’ll miss watching you peel the paint off your nail beds that went over your nails. I will miss going to Popeyes and you telling me how much you love their beans and rice. I will miss it all. Thank you for reminding me who I am and what I am worth, Even though we couldn’t be together forever, I’m glad that you were a big part of my life. I love you so much, abuela, and thank you for all the memories.

Love, Your granddaughter, Anaiah Marie ❤️.

Sending love from germany.