Birth date: Apr 29, 1934 Death date: Jan 11, 2025
Paulina Jimenez-Salazar, 90, a beloved resident of Fort Myers, FL since 2001 and formerly of Chicago, IL, passed away peacefully at her residence on Saturday, January 11, 2025. Born on April 29, 1934, in Costa Rica, Paulina was th Read Obituary
Yo Soy de la Luz
~Paulina Jimenez
To My Little Lady
In the garden where your laughter grew,
Amid blooms and whispers, I think of you.
My little lady, gentle and bright,
You were my compass, my heart's pure light.
From Costa Rica's soft, sunlit shore
To Chicago's warmth, where love blossomed more,
As your youngest daughter, forever I’ll cherish
The songs of your spirit that never will perish.
You shared stories of childhood with eyes shining clear,
In letters to family, your love drew them near.
Your grandchildren gathered, full of joy and delight,
But a piece of your heart missed Joshua's light.
Twice widowed, yet your faith held you strong,
With each whispered prayer, you sang love’s sweet song.
A true romantic, with a heart open wide,
In the tapestry of life, you lovingly tied.
In quiet moments, I picture you here,
Praying your rosary, your heart sincere.
Though time may take you beyond my embrace,
In my heart, dear mother, you’ll always have space.
With each flower that blooms, I feel you close,
Your laughter, a melody, that my soul knows.
To my little lady, forever you’ll stay,
In my heart, you’ll dance, in the light of each day.
I took this photo of mom in her garden. When she lived in Chicago
Missing you mom, oh how my heart aches to see your smiling eyes.
To My Little Lady
In the garden where your laughter grew,
Amid blooms and whispers, I think of you.
My little lady, gentle and bright,
You were my compass, my heart's pure light.
From Costa Rica's soft, sunlit shore
To Chicago's warmth, where love blossomed more,
As your youngest daughter, forever I’ll cherish
The songs of your spirit that never will perish.
You shared stories of childhood with eyes shining clear,
In letters to family, your love drew them near.
Your grandchildren gathered, full of joy and delight,
But a piece of your heart missed Joshua's light.
Twice widowed, yet your faith held you strong,
With each whispered prayer, you sang love’s sweet song.
A true romantic, with a heart open wide,
In the tapestry of life, you lovingly tied.
In quiet moments, I picture you here,
Praying your rosary, your heart sincere.
Though time may take you beyond my embrace,
In my heart, dear mother, you’ll always have space.
With each flower that blooms, I feel you close,
Your laughter, a melody, that my soul knows.
To my little lady, forever you’ll stay,
In my heart, you’ll dance, in the light of each day.
Love Elizabeth
Mi Madre precious de mi alma y corazòn , I love you Mami
My earliest memories of my grandma are from when I was little. I’d go to her house after school, where I learned to embrace my independence in her magical garden. I spent hours exploring her yard, having imaginary adventures with her dogs—Ayuki, Oso, and Reina—though Ayuki was always my favorite. Whenever I was hungry, Tita (the name I gave her because I couldn’t say "Abuelita") would make pancakes and fried eggs, my favorite! If I was lucky, her apple tree would bear fruit, and I’d get a stack of apple slices inside my pancakes. Mmmm.
When Tito (the name I gave my grandpa for the same reason) would come home, we’d have dinner—the familiar comfort of white rice, beans, and some kind of protein. It’s the everyday moments that have stuck with me as I’ve gotten older.
If I close my eyes and imagine being little at Tita’s house, it’s a feeling of joy, I was a wild & free little girl. I can hear the paleta man ringing his bell and calling, “PALETAS!” The instant rush of needing a dollar so I could buy a strawberry and cream paleta. “Tita, I NEED a dollar, pleeeeeeeeeeease!” We’d raid poor Ayuki’s piggy bank, set up for her “surgery” that never happened.
One funny memory is when we lived across the street, and I got fed up with my parents telling me what to do. I decided, I was moving out—I was only six! Like any strong mom of her time, she helped me pack my Snoopy suitcase and walked me to the sidewalk. I crossed the street to Tita’s house like a big girl. I stood there for a while, but eventually, I was ready to come home. Hanging out with your grandparents is fun, but it can be just as rough too, hours of Spanish news, and early bedtimes.
For birthdays, holidays, and special occasions, we’d all gather at grandma’s house. Music would fill the living room, and the smell of home-cooked meals would waft from the kitchen. The adults would talk and laugh about who knows what—probably the 70s and 80s. Meanwhile, the kids would run around, creating our own little worlds and making up games. My “secret spot” during hide-and-seek was the hallway closet, with its louvered door and missing middle slats—looking back, not the best choice!
When we moved to Florida, I felt a kind of “nakedness.” I didn’t have Tita’s house as a refuge from the outside world. But two years later, my grandparents followed us down, and the familiar comfort of their presence returned.
As I grew into my teen and adult years, I stayed close to them, learning all their secrets and life lessons. I inherited grandma’s love of learning and her treasured recipes, and grandpa’s passion for dogs —and his road rage! I was there when Tito passed away, and we all had to relearn how to live without him.
I was deeply honored to have Tita travel to New York for the most important moment of my life—my wedding. It was the coldest weekend, with arctic freeze temps dipping to 3°F, yet she came out and celebrated with us.
The following April, we all gathered again to celebrate her 90th birthday. She had lived a long, well-earned life—not bad for a little girl who had big dream from the countryside of Costa Rica. No matter the hardships, she was always full of joy, love, and resilience.
