The day the President died. It was November 22, 1963. I was two weeks from turning three years old. It must be my first memory as a child, and I remember it, ever so well.
I was the only one home with my mother, and I was sitting on her lap while we were watching President Kennedy and his wife Jacquelyn Kennedy, on that fateful day driving through Dallas, Texas.
My mother loved President Kennedy, and even though I was such a small girl, she instilled that great love into me as well. I loved being on her lap while we were watching this on the television set. For, some reason, I ran to my room, I think to grab my favorite stuffed animal.
It was durning this very short time, that I heard my mother yell out and then into a deep, deep sobbing screaming, "the President has been shot, the President has been shot!" I ran so quickly to be with her and found her inconsolable on her knees on the floor.
Those very short moments, have never left my memory since. The intenseness of what my mother felt was so powerful that it remains with me to this day, and I will be 61 next month. I still get quivers in my heart and tears in my eyes remembering.
I may have been so young, but that moment, was one of the most powerful moments in history. It is recorded in my brain and burned upon my heart...it is a day that will live forever...for a man whose legend, will also, live forever.
For you mom, for teaching me to love such a great man.
Robert Fitzgerald Kennedy
Maria Joan Juarez Hidalgo Beam (Boheme)
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