11.12.1953
Havana, Cuba
05.29.2022
Lewes, DE
Ileana
Carmona
O'Brien
In the summer of 2022, our dear Ileana was taken from us. This site is meant to honor and celebrate her extraordinary life through our stories.
A life well lived
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Ileana was born in Cuba in Havana, Cuba in 1953 to Victor and Clemencia Carmona. After losing Victor to Polio, Clemencia made the brave journey to Miami, immigrating with her three daughters Maria, Ili, and Ele. The family lived with a close network of family in Miami before moving to Maryland.
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Ili attended the University of Maryland, where she met the love of her life, Daniel O'Brien. The two were married in a bespoke ceremony at the University chapel. The two have two daughters - Bri and Tess who they lovingly raised in Ellicott City, near members of the Carmona and O'Brien families.
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Ili had a long career as a public servant, finding her professional calling in keeping people safe with the Maryland Department of Licensing and Labor.
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She was kind, gentle, hilarious, and full of strength. She is so deeply missed.
Ili's own story
Calle 10, entre primera y tercera, is the address I remember for my house in el Vedado, Habana, Cuba. It was a street with medium sized homes, with fences bordering the sidewalk. We were one block from the Malecón, a busy breakwall that served as a place to fish, stroll or sit by the ocean. Our home was a two story house with a screen porch on the front of the second floor, which was perfect for looking out to sea and enjoying a sea breeze. Our backyard had been concreted over and had just one tree, an apple tree in the middle.
I am home – I live at the beach. I did not know that I had been searching for the ocean until we moved to Lewes, Delaware. My first memory of the ocean is spending days, as a five year old, at a lovely, lazy Cuban beach with a netted swimming area. When not at the beach, we were often home.
Our house was a block from the Malecón, a concrete breakwall, where the ocean met Cuba. The Malecón was a noisy, vibrant passageway with the ocean lapping or splashing across it. On weekends, my grandfather would take us fishing from the Malecón. He never caught a fish, but we never went home empty handed, there were always fishermen from whom you could buy a fish and pretend you had caught it. In the evenings, we would sit on the screen porch, watching the sea as the sun set, listening to the waves lapping against the wall and smelling the salty air.
The ocean anchors my memories, salty and loud; beautiful sunrises and angry storms; morning light over the ocean in Cuba, Miami, Ocean City, Nags Head, and Cape Henlopen. As I walk the beach, my heart beats with the rhythm of the sea and I am home.
