Hope Rosales Diaz

Hope Rosales Diaz

 

Biography 

 

On the fifth of September in her home with a son at her side, Hope Rosales Diaz passed away after a long illness. It was almost exactly twenty years to the day her husband Cory preceded her. In spite of her illness, she fought to stay strong as she had done always.

 

On her birth certificate from 1933 it states that Hope was born ‘somewhere near Fresno’. A nameless place for an incredible child who made a good name for herself. Her own mother was never ready for children and left the two-week-old baby with the elderly aunt who had raised her as an orphaned child. As Hope grew, she never felt the warmth of her father’s embrace or the caress of her mother’s hands. She mostly lived in fear that her chronically sick aunt or uncle would pass away and leave her alone.

 

And that day came soon. Aunt Mercy faded, no longer able to care for a child, herself needing care. All along, her own parents lived nearby, now with two more girls, sisters Hope didn’t know about until later. For a long time, these sisters didn’t know Hope at all. But there was nowhere else to go so into her parent’s custody she was returned.

 

One of the cruel decisions her parents made for Hope was to keep her out of school. She had to wait until the younger sisters started. Hope knew about school. She had seen nearby kids her age when they left in the morning, and when they returned from school. It was hard for her to see everyone going where she desperately wanted to be.

 

But once in school Hope blossomed. She learned all she could. She explored the world through books and music and developed her imagination and curiosity. By high school she was known for her warmth and the strength of her character. You would have seen her joyful outlook everywhere she went. And, clearly, she was intelligent as well as kind. She wanted to go to college above all else.

 

That troubled life back into her parent’s home did not destroy her. Being unwanted by her own mother never stopped hurting, even in her golden years. She said that her father never shared a kind word, that he would leave her in his car for hours while he partied with friends at a bar. She said her mother scolded her often and never encouraged her. So, it was. There was so much she wanted to change.

 

Her school yearbooks are signed by dozens of kids who remembered their times together. They knew how special she was. Hope was loved at school in a way she hadn’t known at home. She dreamed of graduating and then somehow getting into college.

 

Then the summer before her senior year she met someone by random chance. He was an airman from Fresno, stationed in Washington DC. He was back in Fresno to see his father who had become critically ill. Hope was going to the same hospital to see the uncle who had raised her with Mercy. 

 

Cory somehow captured Hope’s interest and for the next year he sent scores of letters to her from his Air Force base. She kept all of them. They are tender and sometimes pleading. He made it clear he wanted to marry her. My dad was in love. 

 

Hope had never thought about eloping. She had pictured a white wedding for herself, with at least a dozen bridesmaids to stand with her. She wanted to fill the church with love. But her parents tried to stop everything. They were hard on her. Before she knew it, Hope and Cory were married. They had a small ceremony at a chapel in Reno. She kept everything from that day. She wanted to preserve that moment. That decision still resonates. 

 

Hope put her dreams of college on hold. She and her husband were starting from scratch. She had been alone for much of her childhood. She was never taught to cook or clean and didn’t have the skills to raise a family. Rosario, her husband’s mother, was a kind and loving soul who took Hope under her wing. In the family Cory belonged to there was love. Hope felt more affection than she ever had.

 

Rosario was a storyteller and had much to tell. Of her thirteen children none listened to their mother’s exciting tales as closely as did Hope. These oral histories sparked a dream that she was able to fulfill when she learned of genealogy in college.

 

Because after raising her own five kids Hope had resumed her own path. With the support of her husband to motivate her, Hope courageously started school, as a returning student. She worked tirelessly and made profound discoveries about herself. She wanted to right the wrongs she had seen, to make the art she had imagined, travel to places she had dreamed of. And she did all of that.

 

She created a genealogy that went back three generations before she was born. She had been a good listener with pure motives, had respectfully listened to her elders. Her beautiful family tree is still alive and changes today as babies are still born. It was drawn with her talented hands and driven by her brilliant imagination and a need to keep our past alive.

 

This living document, she realized, could be a map for a lost soul. And it has been that.

 

Her graduation from Fresno State in 1982 was a joyous affirmation. It was the fulfillment of a promise to herself made when it seemed she had no escape from the traumas of an unforgiving family. She took her place among the students who had made their own sacrifices to be there. But she stood above the rest for the ineffable sacrifices she made for us, her true family.

 

She began teaching school in Fresno. Her husband, Cory had retired around that time. Hope wanted them to move to Monterey. It was a brave thing to do, and they enjoyed their lives there. She loved her teaching job. The children of migrant farm workers overflowed her classrooms. They needed help with everything, and Hope was there for them. She loved teaching those kids. There are saved letters and cards from those students and their parents that show how much she was respected.

 

Some of her best memories came out of their time in Monterey. It was good for them. But the pull of her heart to be near her children in Fresno could not be ignored. Hope and Cory gave up the fresh air and the beach to be around their adult children and their kids.

 

Just six years later, her beloved husband passed away suddenly, two days after celebrating their last wedding anniversary together. It was 52 years of a life that had changed in an instant for her. Hope had to learn to live an entirely different way. 

 

She was alone for a while, years feeling isolated in her home and unable to understand why. She was a matriarch with five adult children and more than a dozen grandchildren. She shouldn’t have been alone but was. Most lived right down the street. 

 

This matriarch, over seventy years old, once animated by life, had become lonely and fearful. And despite all of her loving kindness to them, despite trying to buy their love, her children mostly looked the other way.

 

Hope could still manage her life, but she had lost her most precious treasure, the love and respect of her children.

 

Her second son had also moved to Monterey. But he could see from that distance what others who lived in her same corner of town would not. He visited his mother often until he realized she needed more.

 

You can’t go home again. Hope enjoyed most of her time with Mark. She enjoyed what he could do for her and suffered for what he could not. They traveled, returning to Monterey sometimes. They cooked together, preparing enjoyable meals to make Hope stronger. She regained the feeling of good health and started going to a gym. She told him stories of her life he had forgotten about. She sang in her quiet voice. But they were facing the progression of her devastating illness with no experience. It took time to learn what to do and time to unlearn their mistakes. And still, they were alone in a city with sixteen possible helpers for whom, whenever they had needed it, she had done much to help. They persevered. In spite of the depth of his anger and their shared sense of abandonment Mark had gained tenderness and strength from her example, using it only for her.

 

Of the best things they did together, the rebirth of her garden brought great happiness back for Hope. They worked on it together. Every day they did something, pulling weeds was Hope’s favorite because it made her feel strong and it was satisfying to clean away the unwanted. Sitting in the sunlight and beautiful air of a morning with coffee together gave them the kind of power to make a day more beautiful. 

 

They planted boldly colored flowers and ornamental bushes. Empty pots were filled with exotics that seemed different each new day. The ground and the work were hard but the garden was very much alive again.

 

Hope’s huge yard shaped into forms and colors she hadn’t seen there before. They planted trees for fruit and vegetables to fill their plates with. Her wish was for an apricot tree and a fig. That wish came true with an effort fueled by love and extra calories. After just three years Hope enjoyed that first harvest.

 

Hope wrote that the joy of seeing her garden taking shape was one of her cherished thoughts.

 

That garden is where her spirit feels the strongest.

 

Hope, Esperanza Eleanora Maria Dominguez Rosales de Diaz is survived by her son Mark,

four other children, several grandchildren and great grandchildren including Bradley in Texas, her sister Alice in Los Banos and many fine cousins who have done what they could to share their love, including Lori, Rosie, Gloria and Terry. Lupe Furr, a friend of Hope’s since her job at the Roma Winery when they were in their twenties, came to see her again in the days before Hope’s new universe was born.

 

Hope’s legacy will always be remembered by the ones who would listen.