Wikipedia defines Mariel as “a municipality and city in the La Habana Province of Cuba. It is located approximately 40 kilometers (25 mi) west of the city of Havana. . It’s the Cuban port nearest to the United States. It is also where “in 1980, some 125,000 Cubans left Mariel and went to the United States in what is known as the Mariel boatlift, when while many reached the USA, several died traveling through the ocean.” Famed American actress Mariel Hemingway was also named after this town by her also famous dad.
To many, “Mariel” would be quite simply another form of the name Mary. Of Dutch origin, it was said to mean “the perfect one” (how very apt). I’m afraid I never got around to asking her mom why she chose this name for my wife. In fact, I also did not know her as Mariel when I first got to talk to her. I actually knew her as “omni” and then “Gina” much later. (Yes, they are all her ‘names” too but I guess you have to read further in the blog to learn how this came to be)
To some, especially her siblings, cousins, nephews and nieces she was “Mar”, short for Mariel. (I guess they wanted something more endearing.) I even remember her nephews usually going to Tita Mar when they had something they wanted to ask from their own parents but were hesitant or too afraid to tell. She was their bridge, their confidant, their angel. She was “Mar” too to her most favorite cousin Annie who had spent hours with her on the phone talking about anything and everything. Mariel was always there for those who just needed to talk or plainly wanted a shoulder to cry on.
In my case, “Mariel”, among other things, meant guide and teacher. For she had made me realize that God, loved ones and family must come before self. Looking back, I feel so ashamed at my thoughtlessness then. Mariel had shown me that unconditional love was indeed possible. Not just with words, because I’ve been witness to how she had literally given up buying “things” for herself (even as she loved shopping) and instead devoted her life to unceasingly looking after the needs of our daughter and me. She was always caring. She was forever selfless and unassuming.
Then “Mariel” was “best friend” too. For we had shared everything. The ups and downs of life and raising a family. She was my greatest cheerleader. She encouraged me to explore the most “hare- brained” schemes because she believed in me, even if I myself had doubts. She was my critic too, when she saw sometimes that I may be heading towards the edge of the cliff. She’d advice me to “cut your losses” when it was very clear that I had reached a cul-de-sac. And she was always right. She was my “foil”, my teammate, the Ginger to my Fred. She made me whole and complete, that’s why I miss her so much.
Of course, Mariel or “Mommy” (as she wanted me to call her when Sam was just a baby to help her learn the word) will ALWAYS mean my one true love. My kind- hearted wife and soul mate. For while she had come unexpectedly into my life and left as suddenly, she had changed it positively forever and gave me HER greatest gift– our daughter Samantha. She was all the best things that I can only aspire to be.
I love you Mariel. You are the name that forever will be etched in my heart. Till me meet again, good night my sweet princess.
Mariel's Garden 
‘The Ginger to my Fred’. Excellently put.
Possibly more like ‘The Wilma to my Fred’ in my case, I have to admit…
In truth, Robert, you may actually be describing me, for I was legendary at being a slouch. Another one to consider is… “Blondie to my Dagwood”, as a tribute to my great love affair with food and excess.
Mariel however compensated for everything with her classiness. She made me look good.
Thanks again for visiting.
Oh, my dear friends, Bong and Roads,
I look for you everywhere. You are the men that are unafraid to share stories of love and pain. You are in company with my husband, Dave. Thank you for sharing both your love and your pain.
It’s odd that in the U.S., we seldom thank others for sharing their pain. I’ve learned through my occasional travels and talking with many people of different cultures, locally, that sharing pain is a gift, among many cultures, not my own. Thank you for the gift.
I love how we’re all looking for ways to share our lost loved ones, as they are so much a part of our lives. And, through them, we have found each other. Thank you, Jenny, Mariel, and Owen. And, thank you, to our families, who share us with each other, sometimes late into the night, or before the sun rises.
Goodnight, good morning, good day, and good memories…
Love,
Linda
Such a beautiful post! Yes, names matter. In some cultures a child’s true name is hidden because if someone knows it, they are thought to have power over them. But knowing Mariel’s many names shows how powerful she was and is. What a wonderful woman.
And I add my gratitude to Linda’s for your willingness to share your pain. You inspire me with hope.
Dearest Linda and Writinggb,
The pain gets eased only when I remember Mariel’s loving memories. And her love becomes only too real for me every time I see our daughter Samantha.
Our lost loved ones will forever be part of our lives. But I know that you both, Roads, Jan, Elaine, Cary, Shadowlands, Henry and others who have shared so generously their pain and triumphs through their blogs, will forever be part of mine too as I find my way out of the valley.
With much love and admiration,
Bong
Bong,
Thank you for visiting: http://emailsfromheaven.wordpress.com/
I wanted to tell you right away that I too sent an e-mail to someone very dear to me who died. I wrote everything I wanted to say and then pressed “send” – for one glorious minute I thought the e-mail had gone and I felt a real sense of peace.
Then, like a kick in the stomach, I received the following message: mail delivery failed, returning message to sender.
So I wrote my own reply – it was very therapeutic.
Write down what you know Mariel would say – just sit and relax and let the words come out. I am sure they will.