To some she was Grandma.
To others Jefa or Jechu or Ruca or Mama.
To others Senora Torres.
To me she was Welita.
To me she was where I ran the morning I woke up to an empty house. The same morning I became a big sister.
To me she was where we gathered on Friday nights. Where we chased lightening bugs and played freeze tag.
To me she was where I spent summer days waiting for the mailman while my parents worked.
To me she was where we gathered on Christmas Eve. All us cousins eager for midnight to arrive so we could open presents.
To me she was the one that wouldn't let me drink soda because my parents didn't allow it. Instead would have Tang in the fridge and animal crackers on the counter.
To me she was the one that made the best sweet bread and the best gorditas and the best menudo. Mine with only hominy because she knew that was my favorite part.
To me she was the one that always had a garage sale treasure ready to gift.
Ethan has a stuffed Bob the Builder she gifted him a few years ago.
To me she was the one that bought me my quincenera dress.
To me she was the one that had sourced out a wedding package when she found out that Travis was being deployed.
To me she was a woman who never complained about what her life lacked or could have been but always pressed forward with joy in her heart.
To me she was the one who always had doilies on her end tables.
To me she was the one that didn't let a language barrier keep her from building friendships with every person she met.
To me she was the one that made each one of us feel like we were her very favorite. (P.S. I'm her favorite)
To me she was the one that proudly filled her walls with pictures of everyone that entered into the Torres family
To me she was a beautiful example of strength.
To me she defined courage.
To me ...
She was my Welita.