Díaz: After his wife died, a Phoenix-area man made his home a 1-acre love note to her
Elvia Diaz: Valentine’s Day is never easy for anyone who has lost the love of their life. José Cardenas copes by paying tribute to his love every day.
Elvia Díaz
There is nothing he wouldn’t do for his junior high school sweetheart on Valentine's Day – or any other day.
Like most women, she loves flowers. So, he buys a big bouquet.
They wilt too quickly? Not to worry. He buys a big, beautiful bouquet of artificial flowers, too.
This attorney is a modern-day Don Quixote
It’s the sort of thing only Don Quixote de la Mancha would do – the crazed knight character in the famed novel by Miguel de Cervantes.
To Don Quixote, the Spanish peasant girl Dulcinea is the most beautiful golden-haired woman for whom he performs the bravest deeds. She’s the one he chose “to entitle to the sovereignty of his heart.”
José Cardenas, 65, is no medieval crazed knight. In fact, he’s a successful attorney, a polished speaker, an art connoisseur and a music enthusiast – the crème de la crème of Arizona Hispanics.
But in so many ways, he’s just like Don Quixote. A go-getter. A fierce fighter for the things important to him.
And he, too, defies all odds for his Virginia – his Dulcinea. Except that now, when his gentle soul reaches out to her, he finds just silence and emptiness.
Even in the literary world, Dulcinea wasn’t real. She was a figment of Quixote's imagination. In José Cardenas’ world, though, Virginia is alive even though she has been dead for more than five years.
A living museum, devoted to her
The Chandler home the couple shared is much the same as Virginia left it on the day in July 2012 when she died. She had been diagnosed with Stage 4 kidney cancer on Valentine's Day that year. Now, the sprawling hacienda-style home is a nearly 1-acre altar for the only woman José has ever kissed on the lips.
The art-filled-home-turned-living-museum is a testament to his devotion and fidelity, which he says he will take to his grave.
“She’s the only love I ever had,” said José as he sat in front of a 5-foot-by-7-foot posthumous painting of Virginia that he commissioned artist George Yepes to create. “In fact, this might surprise you. She’s the only one ever kissed on the lips.”
I asked him to reiterate, incredulous. “She was the first and only one,” he softly replied as if Virginia was sitting next to us, listening.
It's not about mourning. It's about fun
Valentine’s Day is never easy for anyone who has lost the love of their life. How does José cope on this day and every day?
“I go visit her,” said José. And the passing of time helps. “Most of the time I can say Virginia’s name without choking up … but the memories are always there.”
José was just 14 when he and Virginia went on their first date. He knew she was the love of his life when she gave him up for Lent. The hardest 40 days for the teen turned into 40 years of marriage.
“She was beautiful. Passionate,’’ José says, remembering all those years with Virginia. “She was just a lot of fun.”
It struck me then that José’s coping has everything to do with carrying on the “fun” part of her, for his sake and that of their three successful grown sons and six grandchildren.
That’s why he organizes elaborate parties at home. They’re engaging, must-go social gatherings for top politicians, academics, lawyers, artists and friends. His A-list has included mayors, governors and former Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O’Connor.
“I really don’t socialize with anybody,’’ he said. “It just doesn’t feel right without her.”
They bought most of the art together
At home is different. As you walk into the house, you’re hit with a collection of paintings by various artists of Frida Kahlo. And every room and hallway has a theme, from the Day of the Dead objects to religious artifacts to Arizona artists and muralists.
They bought most of the art together. Art was Virginia’s world, and she devoted much of the 60 years of her life to promote it. One of her legacies is Xico, an arts organization founded in 1975 by Chicano and Native-American artists to promote indigenous arts and culture. The group bestows the “Virginia E. Cárdenas Arts Advocate Award.”
Virginia was a Mexican native and spent most of her career working with recent immigrants at Chandler High School and subsequently at Arizona State University.
It's not surprising that an intelligent and compassionate man like José would end up with a great woman like Virginia. José is a Stanford University Law School graduate and former partner in the law firm of Lewis and Roca. He’s now Arizona State University's general counsel and hosts the Eight/KAET weekly public affairs program, "Horizonte."
This is the kind of love we all want
On a recent visit, we walked around the home, seeing pictures of Virginia, remembering the times and places they shared – first dates, proms, their wedding, life at Stanford, vacations with family.
“All this bring back sweet memories and actually make life easier,’’ he said. But he still thinks of her all the time.
“She is in my dreams more now than she was in the first year or two after her death,” he told me. “I go to bed praying that she’ll be in my dreams. It’s bittersweet when she is, but I cherish those dreams anyway.”
José’s love for Virginia after her death is the kind taken out of the pages of a romantic or tragic novel. The kind only a few people experience but which we all seek and long to find.
The kind of love that defies all odds and endures, even when your friends urge you to move on, to find a new companion. The kind of love that moves you to visit her grave every Sunday.
The kind of love that inspires you to buy her favorite type of fresh flowers and the big bouquet of artificial ones that withstand Arizona's heat.
It’s clear that José's sense of loss will be permanent. What do you call this kind of love? I asked José as we walked out of his house.
“Amor eterno,’’ he replied. “Eternal love.”
Elvia Díaz is an editorial columnist for The Republic and azcentral. Reach her at 602-444-8606 or elvia.diaz@arizonarepublic.com. Follow her on Twitter, @elviadiaz1.
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