Title Sara My Sara: A Memoir of Friendship and Loss
Author Florence Wetzel
Genre Nonfiction/ Memoir
Book Blurb
A poignant memoir of enduring friendship in the face of terminal illness. Author Florence Wetzel shares her profound bond with her friend Sara as they navigate Sara's cancer diagnosis, and the loss and grief that follow. Sara My Sara explores the resilience of the human spirit and the unexpected insights that emerge through mourning.
This book is written in lyric prose, so the line endings are deliberately short. Although the format might surprise the reader at first, people actually find it very easy to follow.
Excerpt
It’s impossible
to write about Sara
without writing
about my mother.
My mom!
Marion Daisy Wetzel
née Crook
born 1926 in
Coney Island NY.
Another world
in a different time.
Spring 2013
when Sara came
into our lives
my mother was
87 years old
recently widowed
and living in
the small suburb
of Westfield NJ.
My mother was
a suburban diva
reigning over
a four-bedroom house
with a two-car garage
that held a Honda and
her adored Mini Cooper.
My mother also had
a housekeeper
three masseuses
five bank accounts
a Yorkshire terrier
named Lucky
a tuxedo cat
named Mooch
a luxuriant backyard
with a Chinese pavilion
and a pond with ten koi.
Not to mention
eight closets of clothes
and over a thousand
pieces of porcelain.
My mother also had me
her youngest child
recently moved home
at 50 years old.
I had come back
so my mother
wouldn’t feel alone
after my father’s death.
I had also returned
to help my mother
with practical matters
such as the towering
stacks of documents
and unopened mail
on my father’s desk.
My mother’s housekeeper
was a Brazilian woman
named Suzana
who for many years
came every Friday
to clean the house.
During the final months
of my father’s life
Suzana started coming
three times a week
to help my mother
take care of him.
After my father died
my mother decided
to keep that schedule.
She enjoyed having
Suzana’s company
and she liked seeing
the house shiny clean.
Unfortunately
Suzana’s mother
suddenly fell ill
and Suzana needed
to return to Brazil
for several months.
That was when Elise
(one of my mother’s
three masseuses)
suggested my mother
hire her housekeeper
a woman named Sara
who was also Brazilian.
Great idea!
My mother and Sara
already knew one another
because Sara usually
was working at Elise’s
when my mother arrived
for her weekly massage.
The next day Sara came
to my mother’s house
with her daughters
Vickie and Little Sarah
who came along
to provide translation.
With their help
my mother and Sara
reached an agreement
on Sara’s schedule and pay.
My mother was happy.
Sara was happy.
It was a new phase
in my mother’s life.
A widow with
a grown daughter
living at home
and now also Sara
three afternoons a week.
By the way
when Suzana returned
my mother decided
to keep Sara on.
Why have one housekeeper
when you could have two?
I told you she was a diva.
Sara.
But her real name
was actually Jussara.
It took a long time
before I found out
Sara’s true name.
When I asked why
she used another name
Sara said that Sara
was easier for Americans
to say and remember.
Later I found out
Sara’s nickname
was Juju.
What a joyful name!
It fitted her perfectly.
Sara was born
October 17 1962.
I was born
October 14 1962.
We liked to joke
about the fact
that I was older.
She grew up
in Dom Feliciano
in Rio Grande do Sul
in southern Brazil
an area with a large
Polish population
and Sara herself
had Polish roots.
In the late eighties
Sara started writing
letters to Frank
an American man
with Brazilian roots.
They got married
in Brazil in 1991
and afterward Sara
moved to the US.
In 2013 when Sara
started working
for my mother
she and Frank lived
in Linden NJ
with their daughters
Vickie and Sarah
as well as Jordie
a blind poodle
named after
Michael Jordan
who they had saved
from an abusive home.
During her life
Sara had worked
many different jobs
but at that time
she was a housekeeper
for several households
including a man
who had cancer.
Sara evolved into
one of his caregivers
and also helped
empty the house
after his death.
Sara was tall and slim
with long straight hair
in a unique bronze color.
She had big glasses
and high cheekbones.
A broad smile
slightly crooked.
In my mother’s house
Sara worked hard
usually wearing
tight white pants
and flowery shirts
often with her phone
clamped between
her shoulder and ear.
Despite her duties
as a housekeeper
I never saw Sara
disheveled or unkempt.
Just like my mother
Sara had mastered
the art of keeping
her glamour intact
in all circumstances.
One of many reasons
Sara fit so smoothly
into my mother’s heart.
Sara grew up speaking
Portuguese and Spanish
and began learning English
in her twenties.
I myself learned Swedish
when I was in my fifties
but despite years of study
I was often self-conscious
when I tried to speak.
Sara on the other hand
never hesitated
when speaking English.
She plowed right ahead
confident and talkative
unconcerned with grammar
and other niceties.
Sara’s English was unique.
She sometimes added
an extra syllable
for example
saying New York-y
instead of New York.
On the other hand
the last syllable
of many other words
disappeared completely.
I never corrected
Sara’s English.
From my experience
with Swedish
I knew it was
more important
to speak freely
than always be right.
Sara had her way
of expressing herself
and slowly I became
used to her English
just as Sara became
used to my English.
There was however
one mystery.
How could my mother
with her failing hearing
and refusal to wear
her expensive hearing aids
understand Sara so well?
No idea.
But I suspect
they had discovered
the language of the heart
a silent understanding
untouched by grammar.
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Author Biography
Florence Wetzel was born 1962 in Brooklyn, NY. She writes across many genres, including the thriller The Woman Who Went Overboard and the Swedish mystery The Grand Man. She has also authored horror short stories, a book of poems and memoir essays, and co-authored jazz clarinetist Perry Robinson's autobiography.
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