Niva Diva Diaries

The world needs more love.

This was a talk I was having with my coffee, under the care of Mary Jane. Do not watch unless you’ve smoked a joint cause I did! 😂

https://youtu.be/ncLy52cmOhA?si=rHQnmC-4wQs_JY-E

My mother's sister, my Aunt Freda passed peacefully on February 08, 2024, in her home, surrounded by her loving children and grandchildren. Although she was a beautiful human being, her exterior was absolutely gorgeous. My Aunt Freda was like a second mother to my brothers and me. We were raised as children in the City of Downey, California. My aunt was fierce, straightforward, highly educated, and deeply rooted in her culture. She was an adventurer, a go-getter, and quite the jet-setter. She had such a beautiful singing voice. She was smart, sharp, and talented. She loved her life. She loved her family, her friends, and her gospel. She was one of a kind. A true gem and a great loss to this world. Her presence will definitely be missed. She was special.

My brothers and I traveled together to LA to bid farewell to our second mother. The woman we remember as our disciplinarian, our supporter, and our cheerleader. It was a hard trip to take because our mother wasn't with us. Our mother is ill in a Rehabilitation Center in Salt Lake City, Utah for Lewy Body Dementia. Her condition is slowly progressing. Her sister Felila was her favorite visitor. My Aunt was always so good at flying out here to be with our mom. During trips she made for her kids and grandkids, she always found time to stop by and see our mother. I would watch as my Aunt would hold my mom's hand and rub her back. They would speak in Samoan about family. My mother loved to talk about their parents, together. If Mom was able to bid her sister farewell, she would've told everyone that they were rivals, always arguing about something. Mom would also let everyone know that she had her back always. She would fight tooth and nail for her sister from anyone and anything. They had a special bond. A funny almost love-hate relationship. Mom would have also thanked her sister for everything. Mom would have thanked Aunty for being our second mom. She would have thanked Aunty for all that she was and the example she always set for our mother. Mom would also tell her sister not to worry about her kids cause if she could she would look after them and make sure they're always fed. Mom would have expressed her undying love for her sister and her endless gratitude for the life her sister lived.

On our last visit together, my aunt had called me to meet her at the Rehab Center to see Mom. We met, she spent some time talking with mom and then we left together. Aunty had invited my daughter and me to join her, her two daughters, and her granddaughter for dinner at Olive Garden. As we sat, we caught up on family matters and then she started to tell me a story. Aunty was one of the best storytellers in my life. Her brain held so many stories from her lifetime, from the past. It was insane how much she knew. This story was sad. It had to do with the passing of one of their eldest brothers. It was a complicated situation that left her hurt. I won't spare any details as it includes some family drama. The point is she was hurt. Her feelings were valid. She just loved her siblings so much. As Aunty continued to tell me her story, I witnessed her pain. She cried. It was the first time I had ever seen my aunt so vulnerable. It was a moment for me that could not go unappreciated. The look on her face when she cried, stayed with me. I was upset for her. I grieved with her. I understood her. It was the last time I would ever hug and kiss her.

As a child, I was a horrible adolescent. I always did as much as I could to cause trouble. Sometimes, even pushed to see how much I could get away with. I was a hardhead. Stubborn like most of the women in my family, on mom's side. Still today, I cannot explain what was going through my young brain. I just remember it always leads to trouble or ends in disaster. As a child going into my tween years, I was a curious child. Curios of the wrong things. I had gotten myself suspended from school so many times for so many stupid reasons, that I'm sure at one point, my aunt felt I was a menace to society. When mom couldn't handle my mess, she would send me straight to her sister. If my dad was not home, it was my Aunt disciplining me. I was so scared of Aunty. Her words could cut through you with a knife. I would rather get spanked by my father than sit through a lecture with Aunty Felila. She was so good at putting me in my place. My mother was the total opposite of Aunty. Aunty was strict and to the point. She could finesse the heck out of anyone. Aunty could make you feel like you're the worst person alive at that moment, all while making you feel so loved by her and everyone else around you. She would tear me down, then pick me up and dust me off. Her words in her own voice stuck like glue. I held everything she ever said to me. As I navigated storms in life, her words played in my head as a constant reminder of life's choices, their consequences, and their rewards.

During my last conversation with Aunty, I had already been made aware of her diagnosis. I Facetimed Aunty to speak with Mom because her health would not allow her to fly back over for a visit. Aunty was really good at keeping up with her siblings, especially my mom. They talked for what seemed like hours about Samoa and their family. After they spoke, it was my turn. Me and Aunty talked for a long while about Mom's condition, possible treatments, and everything she hoped for Mom. Aunty always asked the right questions and was so good at researching things. I could tell Aunty really missed my mother when she was normal. We also spoke about Aunty's diagnosis and treatments that she was looking into. She was so optimistic and hopeful. However, when I looked at her face, I could see how tired she was. You could tell my dear Aunty was sick, but her beauty was exquisite. Aunty had lost weight and it was obvious her cancer was aggressive, but her face was brilliant and her skin still glowing. She always had dazzling sharp features. She was always from birth up to the day she left us a catch. Aunty wasn't just good-looking, she was attractive. I remember thinking, during our Facetime, I hope to look half as good as Aunty when my time comes.

Her last words to me were to go back to church. She told me I had everything most women dream of. A home, a supportive loving husband, and a beautiful child. She said all I was missing was God in my life. She told me not to sell myself short of the blessing that comes with the gospel. She told me I had a beautiful life, that could be enhanced by Christ. She reminded me that the Atonement was there for me anytime I needed. She told me how much she always loved me. She kept saying she loved me. She asked me to take good care of Mom and to visit her often. She even told me that she would call, as she normally would to pester my uncle Paul, their younger brother to be there for my mother too. She was always so concerned about Mom. I felt and knew she loved me. It was never a question. She was always so proud of my marriage, my child, and how far I came away from my rebellious ways. She never missed a moment to tell me she loved me, my husband, my daughter, my brothers, and my mother. Aunty was good at expressing her love for us all.

I've always looked up to her for her courage. Her hard work. Her education and how much data she could contain in that beautiful brain of hers. I was always so proud of all her accomplishments, and she sure mastered so much in her lifetime. Her drive was like nothing I've ever seen or heard of. Growing up I saw her as our family problem solver. She was the one everyone would go to when they touched down in LA. She took care of our family members. Paid for things she didn't have to but would because she always wanted to help. She was the person in our family everyone went to for help. She's helped an endless amount of individuals in countless scenarios, whether they were related by blood or not. I witnessed her be such a great friend to schoolmates, girlfriends from her past, neighbors, church members, and other acquaintances. She was excellent at keeping in touch and keeping up with everyone. She always had good advice to give. I can't ever remember a time when she wanted credit for the things she did. She wasn't much of an attention seeker. She kept her services to others quiet. She never bragged about the help she gave. She was far from boastful. She lived with class and poise. I used to love just watching her be her. It would teach me what type of woman I wanted to be. She was the speech police. She used to correct my speech, pronunciation, and enunciation of words. I always appreciated it because I never wanted to sound stupid in front of anyone.

I just want to end by saying how much loved and adored my beautiful Aunty Felila. I feel so blessed that she was a huge part of my life. I looked up to her so much. I always thought my aunty would live to be 100 because she was health-conscious and always took good care of herself. I used to think she was superwoman and that one day I'd be a lot like her. I admired her and her husband's love story. I miss them as much as I miss my own parents. My mother may still be here, but dementia has a way of making you mourn someone alive. When I felt I lost my mother, Aunty was there. She made me feel like I still had a mother in her. I'll miss her smile, her sweet voice, her hugs, her phone calls, her visits, her guidance, her stories, her laugh, her love, her presence. I know I need to stop crying for her and continue to celebrate her. I feel that her reunion with her husband and everyone who's passed has probably been the sweetest reward for how magnificently she lived. I want my aunty to know I will stop mourning her passing and my mother's condition. I will be a better daughter and visit Mom regularly as she would have me. I make sure mom never has to want for anything. My promise to my Aunt is that I will always be here for her kids, in any way they need. My door will always remain open for them. I will always make sure the girls are good. They are the sisters I never had. I promise my Aunty that although I do not wish to return to church, I will always keep our Heavenly Father in mind. I will always try to make righteous choices. I will continue to say my prayers and I will continue to love those around me. Thank you Aunty for always loving me and my brothers like we were yours. Thank you for loving my mom and always seeing past her ways, for always wanting better for her. Thank you for inspiring us to be and do better. Thank you for singing so beautifully at Dad's farewell, a moment that stayed with me throughout the years. Thank you for not judging me, when I wasn't my best self. Oh, how my heart hurts and my eyes cry. Thank you for always wanting the best for me. I love you so much, Aunty. Til we meet again.

Earliest Recollections of my Mother.

My mother was born in Western Samoa in January 14,1959. She has always been the MVP of our family. She married my father on November 11, 1979, in Salt Lake City. My parents had me the following year. We moved and I know I was a difficult child. My mother never understood why. She just tried her best to deal with me. She loved me. She was a great mother. My memories of my mother as a child are priceless to me. I was the eldest of three. I was also the only girl. I was my mother’s little helper. Certain circumstances I had experienced as a child, put me on a difficult path.

As far as I can remember my mother tried to understand me. There were things about myself, I wasn’t ready to share with my mother, even at six years old. She tried as best as she could to see me, understand me, then offer as much help as she could. Even at such a young age, I fought for the safety of myself and my siblings. It was difficult but hard to prove, I didn’t need any child-sitter watching us. My mother did her best to ensure comfortability in my life. Although she didn’t understand my behavior, she always shared her own experiences as a child. She would always find common ground, in anything that would interest us both.

I did everything I could to stay home, after school, instead of the babysitter. My mother taught me how to make food for myself and my brothers. This consisted of bologna and cheese or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It was simple enough. She made formula bottles, and taught me how to warm them, using the kitchen timer. She made it very clear to me that the world wasn’t always safe. She stressed the importance of keeping the front and back doors locked, not to be opened to anyone. My mother took every precaution to ensure a safe spot for me to watch myself and my brothers. I remember strict instructions to ensure no fatal accidents at home.

When we left one county for another, things seemed safer. I got to witness my mother flourish. She was in her twenties. She had so much energy. She was always a great cook. I’ll never forget the different recipes, she would try. She would always put her own little twist on the dish. She would tell me that she was adding love to the dish, to make it her own. I’ll never forget the crafty days, I used to have with my mother. We would bake desserts and make decorative items by hand, to deliver as gifts. We tried all different kinds of treats. If mom loved it, we tried it. If we loved it, mom would list the treat as something to make for fun. We’d get to enjoy the treats, before delivering them to our loved ones and the community.

Dad was always away, as a child. It was usually, just us and mom. It wasn’t a huge deal. Mom always knew how to hold her own. She was always working. Although, most of my adolescent years, she was working for different school districts, she always ventured out of that field, just to challenge herself. There was even a time when she was working at the Herbalife building, downtown Los Angeles. She made really good money there. However, it wasn’t where she wanted to be. Anytime, mom needed more money, she picked up side hustles.She picked up so many part time jobs, to ensure her kids were taken care of. Some of the side hustling, included deli services at the local Albertsons, seasonal sales associate at the local See’s Candies, or even early morning newspaper routes. It didn’t matter as long as she was given an opportunity.

Mom used to love motion pictures as a child. She would take to the movies or to the local Blockbuster & Hollywood Videos, to rent VHS tapes. Our favorite was scary films. We would rent so many, then build forts in the living room. We would spend the entire weekend chillin in our mountain of blankets and snacks. Mom also enjoyed going to the Cinema Theatre. For a time, there was only the four of us. It was typically myself, my two younger brothers and our mother. We would sneak snacks into the Cinema Theatre. If we wanted our cousins to join us, she would take us to the drive-in theatre. We were always entertained.

Mom even gave us each a weekend, to choose an item at a store of our own choosing. I would always choose posters and cassette tapes of my favorite musician. My brothers always had a series of toys, whether it was TMNT or Ghostbusters, she allowed us to explore our own preferences. She would be so happy just to see us kids get excited. She was always so open to the possibilities of us. We had so much fun with our mother.

I remember all the fun places she took us as kids. She was so adventurous. She made friends outside of our church community, our family and our culture. She had a few best friends. We used to meet up to attend football games, visit theme parks, and take trips to experience places, site seeing, historical sites, and other fun activities. There were a few places & moments I can recall off the top of my head. We went to football games to watch the sons of her friends play. We traveled to Bear Mountain to go ski. I ended up just sledding with the younger kids because I didn’t pack the right clothes for the trip. It was an adventure I’ll never forget.

My mother was so resourceful. She knew the ins and outs of almost every avenue, to take for assistance from the government. Mom was one of the few siblings, who did not get an education. She didn’t even complete high school in the earlier years. She later got her G.E.D. equivalency til after Dad passed. She was almost 40 years old. She enjoyed working for different school districts, in Special Education programs. She had a huge love for disabled children. I remember seeing in her element, at work. The compassion she had and care she took, for them, was something that always made my heart full.

I have so many memories of my beautiful mother. There is so much to share about this gorgeous soul. I know there is more about her I want my own to know. These are my experiences of my mother. To be cont.

Dear Diva Diaries,

Love,

Back II Blogging

It has definitely been a while since I last blogged, and I do miss it. I love to write. I feel better about voicing myself through writing then any other form of a expression and comparable to the gym or gun range, it's therapeutic for me. Much has occurred since my last entry. We've moved a few times, only to temporarily reside in Salt Lake area. It's been a journey, however our plans to move back to Utah County are currently in development. We are here in West Valley, for the sake of our daughter's progression and growth at Mana Academy Charter School.

My brother's would agree that I tend to over share, but it is all to ensure closure, without any misunderstandings, of the person I am and my intentions. So, I have decided to begin blogging again with the certainty of telling my story. As an honest hard working mother of a gorgeous (tween) pre-teen, a wife to a beautiful soul, a sister to duo success stories, a Rheumatoid Arthritis patient, a go getting risk taker, and a regular gym rat, I am constantly, adapting, blooming, and gaining a better understanding, from day to day trials and triumphs. I feel closer and closer to becoming the women I want to be. It is our freedom to share our moments, our thoughts and our experiences. This is my story, and I chose to share it with everyone. :)

Love our growing Family!

Last Saturday was an eventful day. Our dear brother Jerome Bernard married his love Tupu Reid at the Timpanogas Temple. We were fortunate to enjoy such a lovely reception, held in their honor, by the brides family. My brother Jerome is my Mother's Husband Lose Bernard's son. We had such a great weekend with family & friends. Along with my other siblings here in Utah, I also got to enjoy the company of my brother Peter, his girlfriend Charlene, my sister Pearl, her son Kaimani and cousin Puni, all from Washington. Unfortunately, I didn't take as many pictures as I wanted to, but here is what I did capture...

Congrats to the Newlyweds! May your days together be built on a firm foundation of forgiveness, kindness, sacrifice, respect, admiration and unconditional love for one another. We love you both so much and wish you nothing but the best! Tupu Dear, welcome to our big Brady Bunch!

YSBDU 2012

Had such a blast, but posted most of what I can remember on my fitness blog, which I plan on focusing most of my blogging & writing time. However, I just wanted to share a few of my pictures from one of the funnest days, I have ever had since my love for Zumba.

Kass Martin's Master Class

Zumba Toning & Sentao

My survival kit for the day!

HOT HULA with Lisa Loomis

Found my RA Zumba Sistah Tui!

2 EXCiTED 4 our ZFourHour Concert 2 Start!

Aftermath...over 5000 calories later...SORE FEET!

Zumba Soldiers! LoL!

Yes, we had a blast! I was excited we were invited to battle with EMZ and I even had the opportunity to share how Zumba had changed my life and what Zumba means or is to me. I'm loving all the new ZIN40 numbers and the routines brought back from the 2012 Zumba Convention!