Concepción Cabrera Cruz
1933 – 2024
1933 – 2024
A few years ago, I asked Mai Concha to teach me how to make “carne mechada.” Grandmother had many years of experience as a cook in small restaurants and school cafeterias, but on top of that she had a supernatural gift for cooking meat. So one day I went to the supermarket, bought a beef tenderloin, gave it to her that afternoon and told her, “Mai, tomorrow we will make it together for lunch. I want to learn how you do it.”
The next day, I woke up as dawn broke to learn with my grandmother how to make her legendary “carne mechada.” I imagined, naively, that together we would begin the process by cutting ingredients, and stuffing and marinating the meat. No sooner had I reached the house, that a delicious smell of restaurant food reached my nose.
“Mai, I told you to wait for me, that I wanted to learn from you!” I said, equal parts frustrated and amused.
Grandma responded with all the conviction in the world that it was already getting very late and that we had to have lunch ready. We couldn’t let people at home starve. It was half past six in the morning.
Mai Concha was like that. A whirlwind of energy. Things at home were done early, quickly, with passion, but above all in a big way. She cooked big. She cleaned in extra large. In fact, every morning she swept not only the leaves in front of her house but of the entire street. Her explanation was that “things have to be done right, baby.”
Following this philosophy of life, another thing that grandmother did immensely was love. Grandmother intensely loved her husband, children, parents, sisters, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, daughters-in-law, and son-in-law. There was an infinite space inside her heart to fit family, friends and anyone who needed a hug, a smile and a small plate of food (perhaps, with some of the “carne mechada” that I never learned to make). Grandma’s soul was so pure and her heart so immense that she loved free of ifs and buts. I never knew her to hold a grudge against anyone. Ever. For her, everyone was worthy of love and understanding.
A few hours ago, I arrived to Puerto Rico to say goodbye to her. I will miss her sweet face, her sing-song voice, her contagious laughter, her strong squeezes which —according to her— were delicate hugs. I will miss asking for her blessing at the beginning and end of every conversation. I’m going to miss that immense heart of hers that loved without ifs or buts. My dad always said that Grandma was such a good person that people would always take advantage of her. Today I think that grandmother was so innocent because she was never from this world. If angels exist and walk among us, I’m sure my grandmother was one of them. A few hours ago, this angel finished her mission on earth and returned to paradise.
Mai, we love you infinitely.
June 9, 2024