The Morning You Left Us

Is it Friday?
Is it Saturday?
When your retired, you don’t know one from the other
I went to sleep so very late
I did not hear the phone
that very early morn.
Was the phone really ringing
Or was I dreaming?
I woke from a deep sleep to check
And there it was… a text…
“Dad had fallen”
I thought I was fast
But Paramedics were faster
I missed him by moments as they sped him away
It was in emergency room 8
Where he lay in wait
There was nothing more they could do,
Due to covid, we could not be with him as he quietly
slipped away
It’s hard to let go,
But yet we know;
We carry him with us and all his love for family, his community, and the environment
I love you daddy
Beki

Pappa Herrera

I am forever grateful for knowing Manny and his incredible family for many many years. They are the kind of family everyone aspired to emulate. Mamma and Pappa Herrera taught their children to respect others, love and care for their enviornment, treat every living thing with respect and to love and enjoy life. My life is better for knowing them and having them all in my life. RIP Pappa Herrera. 

-Nadine

Service Times

On behalf of my mom, Josie, we wish to thank you for all your condolences, which have already been expressed some Saturday messages of love and your support. Thank you.

Services

  • Wednesday, March 10th, 2021: The viewing of Manny will take place at Carrillo’s Mortuary, at 204 S. Stone Avenue, in the North Chapel from 2PM to 7PM. There is a limit of 15 people at a time.
  • Thursday, March 11th, 2021: A closed ceremony; however, it will be recorded.
  • Friday, March 12th, 2021: Josie will be receiving visitors at the Peace Garden, at the Manuel Herrera Jr. Park, located at 5901 S. Fiesta, from 2PM to 4PM.
  • Saturday, March 13th, 2021: A tree planting in the neighborhood. We’re dedicating a tree.

Thank You

Thank you to everyone for sharing their messages, stories, and beautiful pictures. While we are devastated by this loss, the memories of our beloved Tata will help us all get through this together. He would have loved knowing that. Family, after all, is everything. 
Becky

For Tata

He was a man of his word. Those words, selected meticulously, came in their own time. You might have had to wait patiently for them to be formed, as though they were being crafted by a pair of index fingers on his favorite typewriter, but they were always words worth waiting for.

Words like family, community, kindness, and love. He made you feel so happy and proud to know him, to love him, to get to sit beside him, watch the world go by, and share a story or a laugh with him. He always had a smile to offer.

The moment that keeps replaying for me is when he danced with me at my wedding. He said I need you to promise me something. I said okay. He said I know how life goes and I need you to promise me that you’re going to finish college. You’re going to get your degree. I said of course I am. He said I believe you but promise me anyway. If you do, I’ll promise you something too. When you graduate, I’ll be there. I’ll even wear a tie.

And he did. He was there. He watched me walk across the stage. I had held my tears back until I saw him there beaming. Wearing that tie he promised me.

So I keep thinking of that. How important that moment was to us both. What it meant. How often I thought of that promise on the days that were too long and the night classes that were longer.

He taught us about hard work. If you have to start out with three jobs, then well, you do that. Then you’ll get better and move up, then you’ll only need two. Then maybe just one. But you’ll know how to work hard by then and you’ll keep doing it. One person can change the world. It was never going to be an easy thing to do, but he had a way of making it feel possible.

He made a difference. He led a beautiful life with a beautiful wife and he showed us what love was. What love could do.

He was one of the greatest humans I’ve ever known and there isn’t going to be a single moment that I won’t miss him.

I love you, Tata.

Thank you for such an incredible lifetime of love.

Love, Bekita

San Diego

To My Parents

I was fortunate to find a job in San Diego after my stint in the navy.

San Diego is a city I love. A love affair formed from childhood memories of summer trips to the ocean. I live blocks from the old icehouse. It was always our first stop in San Diego to refill the ice chests after crossing the desert. The icehouse was just very recently demolished and hadn’t been used in some time. When my kids were growing up I would take them camping at the same beaches we used to go to, San Elijo, Cardiff and Silver Strand. When we go for drives in the county we often stop at the same Frosty Burger in Pine Valley; the very same Frosty Burger we would sometimes stop at before dropping back into the desert for the trip home. I’m sure you remember it, it is across the street from the county park in Pine Valley, where we would unpack ourselves from the cramped car and stretch our legs.

San Diego is changing. Like I say, the icehouse is now gone, Pine Valley is nearly a city in itself, the beaches are nearly impossible to get into but my memories are forever.

Thanks mom & dad
Love you,
James

500 Miles

To My Parents

I arrived in August of a particularly steamy summer. I was the fifth child born to a young Manny and Josie Herrera. Two girls and two boys had previously made their appearances into the rapidly growing family.

As an infant, I had a rather unique mode of transportation. I would scoot around on my bottom because I decided crawling was simply far too difficult on the knees. And, because I moved so infrequently, mom would often resort to pulling me in a wheelbarrow. I have a distinct memory of watching her hang the clothes out to dry while I sat in my trusty wheelbarrow eating an orange.

I also remember spending the better part of my days sitting quietly in my crib waiting for someone to help me out of it. I was so fascinated when my younger sister (who was four years younger than I) began to maneuver over the bars of her crib, while I remained seated in mine. I suppose that is why I have such a compulsion to keep myself moving now; I stayed still long enough.

When our family was finally completed, there were four girls in one bedroom, three boys in the second bedroom, and mom and dad in the last bedroom. Somehow, the arrangement didn’t seem fair to me. So, I took it upon myself to even things up. Three to a bedroom sounded like a better deal, so every now and then I would slip into bed with mom and dad. Now that I think about it… it was probably the same year they started locking their bedroom door. I wonder if there’s any connection.

I think my favorite of all family traditions growing up was when we would pile into the car and go to the mountains for a month at a time. Mom would make us clean the house from top to bottom and dad would set off a bug bomb before we left – that was a routine procedure. Then, we would head for the White Mountains where it was cool and beautiful. Talk about family bonding … nine of us compiled snugly in the white station wagon. Mom and Dad in the front seat, Marty, Manny, and David in the middle, and the little ones (Yoli, Beka, Sheila, and James) in the back.

Dad learned how to drive with a trailer quite proficiently and we all learned a new vocabulary by the end of that first summer. Mom, however, said that we were never allowed to use those newly acquired words.

I remember singing “500 miles” all the way up and I thought someone was going to go insane before the trip was over. No names are necessary. I think we can all guess who it was.

When we would finally get to the mountains, the first thing we would do is stretch, and then, we would “police” the area and clean our new home. We would pick up litter left by previous campers, and move every rock in the area to make way for our tent. After sleeping on the tent floor a few days, we understood why it was so important for every rock to be moved.

For a month, we would be surrounded by nothing but nature; it was beautiful. Fishing, playing in the creek, hiking, pine cone fights, playing cards on rainy days, board games, and telling stories around the campfire at night… that was scary because, after the stories, we would have to make our last venture to the outhouse in the dark. We only had one flashlight – between us and had to walk very closely together to monitor the behaviors of any wild animals that might be roaming around us.

Mom would make us bathe once a week – the nerve – so we could go into Show Low and find a church on Sundays. She wasn’t raising heathens, you know.

Luther Standing Bear once said, “Out of the Indian approach to life there came a great freedom–an intense and absorbing love for nature; a respect for life; enriching faith in a Supreme Power; and principles of truth, honesty, generosity, equity, and brotherhood as a guide to mundane relations.”

I thank my parents for teaching me to value each of these things… And, for much, much more.

I love you both eternally,
Beki (your favorite daughter) 

David Anthony

To My Parents

My name is David Anthony and I have a son with the same name.

I was born with blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a very long lazy tongue. I was put in speech therapy in the early years to learn to speak like everybody else in the household. My parents spent a lot of money on therapy and I know they sacrificed in order to make this happen.

I also was born with a foot problem. I was once called “Wandering Foot”, 1 would wander from any campsite at any given moment to explore what nature had to offer.

My brother Manny and I were self-sufficient young entrepreneurs. Once while in Oxnard, California on a family vacation spending time with our “California cousins”, we were exploring the neighborhood when we were accosted by the bullies of that area. I ran back to our uncle’s house, I grabbed a knife to protect my brother and was stopped by Uncle Noni when he saw what I was doing. By the time we had arrived my brother had taken a very horrible beating. At the time of this incident, my father had been trying to back up the trailer in a very small place and had to physically push the trailer by hand by himself and threw his back out. He could not move the rest of the trip. I saw my brother and father both in pain that hurt me tremendously. Manny and I became very close brothers that day.

Soon after that, it was time to go to war. I went to Vietnam and flew many missions as a co-pilot in order to keep any more brothers from being infected by the disease of this “police action”. I served so the others wouldn’t have to.

While in Vietnam I learned to make jewelry just like my grandfather. When I got out of the service 1 was employed by the Postal Service just like my dad. Later I fulfilled a childhood dream and became a Police Officer.

I regret not getting to know our younger siblings better, however, I take pride in knowing that all the Herrera men served their country.

I thank you mom and dad for always being there for me.

David