Obituary for Carmen A. Rodriguez

In Memoriam:  Carmen Antonia Rodríguez y Rodríguez (March 29, 1941 – January 7, 2024)

“The Prophet:  On Death” by Khalil Gibran

If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is it to cease breathing but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

It is with profound grief and sadness that we mourn the passing of our beloved mother and grandmother, Carmen Antonia Rodríguez.  Carmita, as she was known to family and friends, ascended to a higher plane where she is now free of illness on January 7, 2024 in Miami, Florida, her home of over 50 years.  She is survived by her loving children José “Randy” Díaz, Luzandra “Luzy” Díaz, and Angel “Titico” Díaz; daughters-in-law Cortney Dávila, Patricia Lazo, Marisol Santos, and Margaret Alvarez; grandchildren Matthew Díaz, Gabriel Díaz, Luciana Díaz-Dávila, Alexander Díaz-Dávila, Avigail Díaz, and Ariana Díaz; siblings Celina Rodríguez and José Rubén “Pepito” Rodríguez, and her former spouse Ramón Díaz.  She was preceded in death by her beloved parents, José Rodríguez Acosta and Donatila Rodríguez Martínez; siblings Olga Rodríguez, César Rodríguez, José Antonio “Toño” Rodríguez, and Luz Selenia Rodríguez; and her long time love Fernando Rodríguez.

Carmita was born on March 29, 1941 in the small, but beautiful oceanside town of Maunabo, Puerto Rico.  Her legacy is etched across the significant historical events that unfolded throughout her remarkable life.  In 1941, as Carmen took her first breaths, the world grappled with the turmoil of World War II.  Over the years, she witnessed the triumph of the human spirit with the end of the war in 1945, the social transformations of the 1960s, the advent of the space age and moon landing in 1969, and the dawning of the digital era in the 1980s.  She embraced the new millennium with hope, witnessing the world change in unprecedented ways.

In her lifetime, Carmen weathered both personal and social challenges.  She was a Latina role model truly ahead of her time.  While raising three children, she served the Hispanic community as president of the Parent Teacher Association at Citrus Grove Elementary School, a predominantly Spanish-speaking district.  She perfected her English and went to work for Miami-Dade County Public Schools (MDCPS) as an after school program coordinator.  In the evenings, she attended classes at Florida Memorial College, where in 1983 she earned a Bachelor of Science in Elementary Education.  She then went on to earn a certification in Special Education from Lindsey Hopkins Technical College, and was employed by the MDCPS South Central Regional Office.  She eventually left MDCPS to open and run her own early childhood education center, where she was truly happiest.

Family matriarch, Gran Dama de la Sagüesera, and a socialite in the 90s frequenting such well known Miami locales as Club Tropigala and Les Violins Supper Club, doña Carmen was an early supporter of the LGBTQ+ community, as well as causes championed by the Cámara de Comercio Latina CAMACOL (Latin Chamber of Commerce) with her life partner, Fernando Rodríguez, a past president of CAMACOL.  Hers was the epitome of a life well lived; and while her passing leaves a void that can never be filled, she bequeaths to us a noble example — a tapestry of experiences and memories, and she leaves a profound impact on those fortunate enough to have shared in her journey.

“Funeral Blues” by W. H. Auden, adapted by Angel Díaz

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message ‘She is Dead’.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

She was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

As we bid farewell to our beloved mother and grandmother, Carmen Antonia Rodríguez, we honor not just the years she spent with us, but the rich fabric of irreplaceable memories she wove through them.  She was our rock, our guiding light, our moral compass, our first love, our first dance partner, and our first and ever teacher.  She loved music, she loved to dance; she made us laugh, and she loved us intensely.  We, her Randy, her Luzy, and her Titico are comforted in the knowledge that we are all beings of energy, and energy can neither be created nor destroyed; it merely transforms.  May her spirit find peace, may her memory be an eternal blessing, and may we live long to remember her as we cherish the timeless imprint she leaves on our hearts.