Fabiola Santiago

Miami man dies from coronavirus. So did all but one member of his family | Opinion

As Miami-Dade County officials roll out the opening of parks, marinas, and golf courses in the state’s epicenter for the novel coronavirus, the devastation of a Nicaraguan-American family is a reminder that sickness and death are still very real.

“People need to hear this,” Marcela Lastre says of the tragedy her family is mourning.

They’re preparing not one, but three funerals.

“It’s not one person gone and that’s it. This can wipe out your family. It can take everyone in your home.”

Gone are her cousin Mario Mayorga Jr., 42, who died Sunday, his father, Mario Sr., 72, who died first on April 10, and his mother, Esperanza Tapia de Mayorga, 72, who died April 19.

The Mayorgas were looking forward to celebrating this year their 50th wedding anniversary and a love their son often praised in his Facebook posts as loyal and everlasting.

The only survivor in their southwest Miami household is sister Violeta, 45. After being hospitalized as well, she’s recuperating from the COVID-19 infection, but she’s “in a delicate state” from all the loss she has endured, according to family. A medical office worker, she has been out of the job for the last six weeks since her brother tested positive.

Her 8-year-old son, Christopher, went to live with his father as soon as Mario Jr. began to experience symptoms. Violeta hasn’t been able to see her son, who is grieving the loss of his beloved uncle and abuelos he lived with, as is tradition for many tight-knit Hispanic families.

Coronavirus symptoms

When he began to feel coronavirus symptoms in March, Mayorga was working as a supervisor for a company contracted to clean Mount Sinai Medical Center in Miami Beach during the pandemic.

Although his family suspects he was infected there, he also had traveled in January to Nicaragua, which is being criticized for under- reporting the extent of infection there and holding soccer games, food festivals and beauty pageants amid the pandemic.

“We really don’t know exactly where he got infected,” said Lastre, whose husband is a nurse. “[Early on] we were seeing cases, but it wasn’t alarming. It’s something that happens in the news but your family isn’t affected by it. You don’t think it would happen to you.”

Her side of the family, which includes her elderly grandmother, also was exposed to Mayorga, who visited after returning from Nicaragua, but so far no one else has experienced symptoms. This factor makes infection while working at the hospital — where he would later die — more plausible.

The elder Mayorgas, beloved teachers in their homeland, and their two small children were part of the exodus to Miami from Central America in the 1980s of people fleeing civil wars, and in Nicaragua’s case, also an earthquake.

They lived the quiet, modest lives of people who fled strife but never forgot the homeland or those left behind. They were grateful to have found refuge in a democracy and the cultural cocoon of Miami-Dade. All became U.S. citizens.

They were originally from Masaya, a small town known as “the capital of Nicaraguan folklore” for its three month-long colorful celebration of patron saint San Jerónimo, “doctor to the poor.” Over the years, they went back many times, as did Mario Jr., a graduate of Coral Park Senior High School and former Barry University student.

Mario Jr. loved to ride the horse he kept in rural South Miami-Dade and was deeply religious and demonstrative of his love for family and Nicaragua.

On a post about his parents’ 49th wedding anniversary he wrote: “How fortunate I feel to be part of this history, so truthful, so loyal, so sincere, so filled with love. Thank you for giving my sister and I this beautiful example of love that never dies, of love that cures all, and that will be for the rest of life. May God bless you always.”

The Mayorgas’ joint Facebook account also is filled with comments of love, admiration, and gratitude for them.

“My beloved professors,” a former student called them after the couple posted a photo of a reunion with them.

“All of our ex-students are in our minds and in our hearts with a love never-ending,” the couple wrote back.

Don Mario and Doña Esperanza, as friends called them, and their beloved son would depart from this world alone, one after the other, of complications from this horrible disease in different hospitals — and without family being able to be there with them.

Violeta is now saddled with medical bills, funeral costs, and all the housing expenses that were before shared. Family and friends have set up go-fund-me accounts to raise money for her and her son. As of this writing they had raised more than $40,000 since WPLG Local 10 first broadcast the family’s story Monday.

Lastre wants the deaths of her relatives to be a cautionary tale for people who, tired of quarantine, will flock to newly opened public spaces.

“Let this remind people that we are not ready,” she said. “I understand everyone wants to get back to work and make money, but those numbers will come right back up if you do it too soon. I don’t think many people are taking it [coronavirus disease] as seriously because they think they are invincible and that their families are OK.”

Friends of the Mayorgas echoed her message on social media.

Our elected officials would better serve us by taking these deaths to heart as well.

The public messaging about COVID-19 needs to remain one of caution, not false hope.

This story was originally published April 28, 2020 at 2:39 PM.

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Fabiola Santiago
Miami Herald
Award-winning columnist Fabiola Santiago has been writing about all things Miami since 1980, when the Mariel boatlift became her first front-page story. A Cuban refugee child of the Freedom Flights, she’s also the author of essays, short fiction, and the novel “Reclaiming Paris.” Support my work with a digital subscription
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