One in a Million

When this day came, I thought I would be a complete mess. And I am a little. Whatever effort I might make to describe the kind of life my grandmother lived would be a sad attempt indeed. I don't think that at this point I can even try. It shouldn't surprise me that the disease she had (Creutzfeldt-Jakob) was so rare, the statistics are literally one per million.

There is saddness in the thought that I will no longer receive little handwritten notes encouraging me, reminding me what a good mother I am. That those trips to her little boutique to shop for everyone she has ever met, have ended. That I won't hear her say about some miniature trinket or baby's sock or shoe, "Oh, mija, look...it's so cute. So tiny." Not from her distinct voice that seemed to say that this is so cute, it hurts. There is a little saddness also to think that she remains only in my memory, and altough I have one of the best, it seems at times that just won't be enough.

There is no despair though. There is no despair in knowing that the disease, however swift it befell her, was really a blessing. She lingered not one day longer than the Lord wanted, and it allowed for so many, many people to express their gratitude. She touched too many lives to number. There is no despair when knowing that the Savior's infinite atonement envelopes it all. There is no despair when Santi crept into Lita's room to sing her a sweet song or place flowers from the yard by her bedside. There is no despair when my nine-year-old daughter, Marin, stood at her great grandmother's bed and taught her about the creation, the Plan of Salvation, and the resurrection. And within that very hour, Granny finally let go. When there is so much mercy, how can we despair?

Through all of this, I am all the more grateful for my family. What better man is there in this world than mine? He stood at the head of my extended family and administered blessings of comfort, he stood as a Mormon Bishop in a baptist church and spoke words of peace and truth, and he stood at my grandmother's grave and dedicated it by the power of the holy priesthood. There isn't really confusion or fear on my children's faces. Just a missing of someone they dearly love, someone they don't want to be without, but someone they know they'll see again one sweet day. I can never take for granted feeling, not just knowing, that we are all sealed together for eternity.

Gazing into one old black and white photo after another, I can't help but feel a twinge of regret. Seeing her face. I only saw part of her, there was so much of her I didn't know. Other than a few recounted memories, that whole life of hers before I was born is just a mystery to me. A fissure between generations that not any of us can do much about. I just have to bear myself up and remember that there was a place in time, a larger part of her that was reserved especially for me. I certainly must be favored to have enjoyed so many years of my life with her in it. We shared so many things. Every meaningful event in my life has her imprint upon it. She saw me grow, she saw me wed, my newborn children, new motherhood. She saw me try, sometimes fail, and I hope she saw me get back up again.

Just as Marin said in her talk at Granny's memorial, "She was so much like Jesus. I have a goal to be like her. She was...pretty much perfect." She's so right. I suppose that even if my memory should fail me, with Marin and Santi in my life, I'll have sweet reminders to last forever.





Juanita Gonzales Ibarra of Banning, age 75, passed away on December 24, 2008. She passed on peacefully at home, surrounded by her family. She was born on August 13, 1933, the daughter of Raphael and Maria Gonzales of Banning. She is sister to Trini Aguilera and Teresa Lara of Banning, and Vicente Gonzales of Palm Springs.

She married her loving husband Benjamin Monsalvo Ibarra on December 28, 58 years ago. Together they have two children: Yolanda Anson and Jaime Ibarra; five grandchildren: Andrew Anson, Xochitl Anson Hulse, David Ibarra, Victoria Ibarra, and Khrystina Ibarra; and three great grandchildren: Marin Hulse, Santi Hulse, and Abram Hulse.

Juanita grew up in Banning and graduated from Banning High School through the adult education program. Juanita loved learning and attended classes at UCLA, USC, and University of Guadelajara in Mexico.

She worked as a court interpreter for the Banning Municipal Court for 11 years.
Juanita worked most recently as a certified court interpreter for the Superior Court in San Bernardino County where she was employed for the last 18 years.

In her career and personal life she was committed to helping others. Juanita dedicated herself to her family and church family at New Hope Fellowship of the Pass and those around her. She opened her heart and her home to those in need and is beloved for her kindness, generosity, and humility. She is remembered for her exemplary life of faith, hope, and charity.

A memorial service was held Saturday, December 27, 2008 at New Hope Fellowship of the Pass in Banning.
Funeral Arrangements were handled by Wiefels and Sons in Banning.
Please make donations for Juanita Gonzales Ibarra to CJD Foundation at cjdfoundation.org or call 1-800-659-1991.