She has been taking care of Isabel's 16-year-old daughter, Jazmin, so during the school year she will remain in Philadelphia.
The summers, though, still belong to Puerto Rico.
Jazmin and her 11-year-old cousin, Bryanna, have been coming down here for vacation the last few years. They shop and stroll the beach and linger over sweet Malta soda with their grandmother's vast extended family.
"But it's not the same," Pat says. She misses Isabel's voice, her daily phone calls. But worse, she watches helplessly when Jazmin cries or withdraws from conversations to send text messages to friends back home. Pat knows about teenage mood swings, but Jazmin is also mourning for her mother. So who's to say what's normal?
"Jazmin doesn't like being around a lot of people. I don't know why," Pat says. "She goes to her room and closes the door. . . . When we go back [to Philadelphia], I want to take her to a counselor."
Her own attempts at comfort have failed.
"The other day, Jazmin was upset, thinking too much, feeling alone," she says. "I told her, 'You're not alone. You have family, friends, your mom's coworkers.' I said, 'Jazmin, you need help, I'm here.' "
Pat closes her eyes gratefully when a cool breeze laps her face. "Every night, I think about my daughter," she says. "I have nightmares that she's calling me. Jazmin feels the same. . . . Sometimes I pray to God and say, 'Look. Give me some answers for what to do for this girl.' "
Adapting to pain
However oppressive her grief may be, Jazmin is still a teenager and occasionally comes up for air. Since June 21, when her braces finally came off, she smiles more often. In early July, she spent a week at El Combate, her mother's favorite beach. And she has thumbed approximately 4,849 million text messages on her red cell phone.
On the surface, this summer's not much different from the last few.
