Concrete, Texas — As the sun climbed higher, casting a warm golden hue across the cemetery, the De Los Santos family knelt beside Esther’s grave. Armed with a hoe, a shovel and a shared determination, they meticulously tidied up her final resting place. Weeds were plucked, and rocks cast aside. Each grain of dirt dug or leveled felt like a whispered conversation with the earth—a way to stay connected to the woman who had shaped their lives.
The afternoon sun, now more intense, painted the gravestones with a soft glow. It was a beautiful day, and the family was thankful for the cool breeze. Their reverence deepened as they continued their quiet labor, honoring Esther’s memory under the Texas sky.
As the De Los Santos family assembled at San Pedro Cemetery, a tranquil haven nestled among ancient oaks and wildflowers, just a stone’s throw from Highway 183. Their purpose was both solemn and heartfelt: to pay tribute to their cherished matriarch, Esther De Los Santos, who had departed this world in August 2021.
The early afternoon light bathed the gravestones, casting long shadows as they gathered to honor Esther’s memory.
Esther loved music—the rhythmic melodies that carried her through life’s joys and sorrows. So, as the sun climbed higher, her children brought out a speaker. The familiar tunes of her favorite songs filled the air, and they said a quiet prayer asking forgiveness from any spirits disturbed by their music or their presence. They listened to the Spanish ballads reminiscing how she hummed while cooking, the lively rancheras or cumbias that made her dance in the kitchen, grabbing any one of her great grandchildren and making them dance with her. Tears mingled with laughter as they swayed to the rhythm, feeling her presence in every note.
The De Los Santos siblings encircled the grave, their voices overlapping like a patchwork quilt of memories. They shared tales of Esther’s strength and sassiness and her no-nonsense view on life—the way she stitched pieces of fabric for her Church quilts late into the night, her eyesight failing but her hands remembering the familiar patterns. They reminisced about her enthusiasm for trying out new recipes, her fun dinner parties with her family or friends. And they laughed, recalling her tendency to explain any comment that was met with disapproval, “All I said was…”.
As the sun reached its zenith, casting speckled shadows across the San Pedro Cemetery, the De Los Santos family paused from their labor. They had tended to Esther’s grave, pulling weeds and whispering memories. Now, it was time for a simple yet poignant ritual—a picnic lunch.
Underneath the protective canopy next to the San Pedro Historical Marker, they set out the folding table and chairs. They bowed their heads and prayed. Gratitude flowed—for Esther’s love, her sacrifices, and the legacy she left behind.
The air smelled of earth and history, and the gravestones stood as silent witnesses to generations past. Here, they sat, overlooking the graves of their ancestors—their grandfather, grandmother, and great-grandmother, aunts and uncles, and numerous cousins. Yes, their mother had approved San Pedro as her final resting ground. She would have joked that she was just a patch a personal family joke meaning she was an in law in this cemetery full of De Los Santos.
Each weathered headstone told a story, etched in lichen-covered stone. The oldest headstone of their family was of Catarina Garza De Los Santos, born in 1889, she had witnessed Texas transform from wild frontier to bustling state. Her life spanned eras—the clash of cultures, the rumble of wagons, and the birth of towns.
As the family stood there, bridging the gap between generations, they realized that love transcends time. Esther’s laughter echoed alongside Catarina’s quiet strength. The De Los Santos clan—linked by blood or marriage, laughter, and shared grief—had paid tribute not only to their mother but to the unbroken chain of love that stretched back to the 19th century.
And so, on that Mother’s Day, they left the cemetery with hearts full. Esther’s spirit danced among the wildflowers, whispering, “Remember me.” And they did—through stories, laughter, and the simple act of tending to the sacred ground.
Note: This story was submitted by the De Los Santos family. They continue to honor their ancestors, weaving their own stories into the rich tapestry of Texas history.