Remembering Simón Navarro

Navarro was one of the founders of the Coalition for the American Dream, which was begun in 2006 to fight against anti-immigrant state laws. He was also instrumental in bringing the Shrine of Saint Toribio Romo (patron saint of immigrants) to Tulsa’s Iglesia Católica de San Pedro y San Pablo. Every year at the end of May, hundreds of people make the four-mile pilgrimage from Our Lady of Guadalupe to Saints Peter and Paul Church, and Simon was always a central part of this festival.

While there is sadness at his loss, Simon lives on in the memories of his friends,relatives, and his wife, Agueda Perez Mejía. The Navarros met in California back in the 1980s and they were friends until Simon took the first step.

“One day he came to see me and tried to kiss me, until that moment we were only friends so I said `mister, you haven’t asked me if I wanted to be your girlfriend, so you can’t kiss me’. He said that in that very moment he knew he wanted me to bear his children, because I wasn’t an easy woman,” recalled Agueda.

The couple later married and went back to Mexico for some years until they finally settled in Tulsa in 1996.

“We had some family here and they said this was a prosperous city,” explained Simon’s widow. Together in the early days of the Hispanic community they worked at whatever jobs they could find, in chain stores, markets, and doing clerical work, until one day in 2000 they opened the “Herbolaria Mexicana”, an herbal store were Agueda still helps others feel better through natural remedies.

From a distance Agueda tries to remember her Simon through little things. While the rest of us know him for his benevolence and generosity, she deeply understands his sacrifice.

“We were married for 41 years, it wasn’t easy, but the strength of our family and the belief in that union made us work it out. I always supported him with his dreams. If he wanted to go out there and help the community, I would let him as long as I could stay in the store, because it was what brought food into the table,” she said, acknowledging the challenges of being married to an idealist.

The strong woman that took care of her man until the end, today feels relieved, freed, owner at last of her own decisions, because those years of constant help were also years she was left behind.

“My husband was a dreamer; he was a family man who loved his daughter and grandchildren and always thought about everything. He even opened a Western Union, so that my daughter when she graduated could have a decent job,” she said.

Despite the pain, Agueda is poised. There is a strange inner force that empowers her, a satisfaction that lies with the conviction of feeling fulfilled as a woman.

“I feel at ease because I did my best as a wife, I played my role as I should, took care of him every single day. I don’t feel sad because I did what I had to do. I am sorry because I won’t spend my days with him anymore, but happy for having helped him.”

Now she plans to move forward, work until her hands fail her, with no strings attached, no obligations, “simply moving in the direction the nose points.”

To all those widows and widowers transitioning difficult times, Agueda advises to face the loss with dignity:

“Be brave, don’t let yourselves be afraid because live goes on. And if you believe in God, soon you will see each other again.” (La Semana)