Grieving Slowly...

 Grief, She is an unpleasant teacher in  Life. Her lessons become tears amply displayed running to the edges of my face. My voice becoming shaken. As if I'm drowning, the salt of the sea renders me speechless. Trying to scream until my lungs give way. Reaching the surface to grip the most feeble taste of air only to have the waves crash into me dragging me underneath to the abyss. It is my body giving in, the weight unbearable to hold. The Anger that erupts in the uttermost worst manners. Unmatched and no where to go. Regret of all the things left unsaid, the chances not taken, the, "I Love you's", that go unreciprocated. Or maybe they're reciprocated, but I don't hear them. Grief is all the memories, the regrets, the happy times, the laughing until you nearly pissed yourself, the possibilities and plans you had, the "I Love you's" that left you feeling alive. That's the truth though, Grief is all the good and the bad intertwined. It is the price of love, the price of life. The memories you want to relive, the ones you want to forget. The situations you wish you handled differently. The chances you wish you took, and all the words left unsaid. It is the smiles and laughter of all the jokes and adventures. Grief, she is my least favorite teacher. I'd say I hate her, but I can't. Because it is her course. She has a way of reminding you of what really is important. Reminding you of what life is really about, Love and Experience. She reminds you to appreciate the experiences. To live in the moment. To savor every breath you take. For every step to make it matter. To make a difference. To create a memory, a legacy.  Grief, as awful as she is, she leaves something precious behind. Memories are the gift in grief.

My Memory is a hell of a thing. Sometimes I can't remember what I did five minutes ago. Leaving me frustrated staring into space not realizing that my face is looking all sorts of crazy. Like the idea of remembering more than a day, let alone years is impossible to me, but yet there are possible because at  times I could tell you every little detail. Like when we would get up every morning at 5 a.m. to take my Dad to work. All 7 of us kids piling into the van. Me hastily grabbing fruit snacks and a Mountain Dew preparing myself to be scolded by my Mom, who told me to get a juice. I can remember the disgusting taste of those Shark Fruit Snacks, the silver wrapper they were encased in and the smell of fake fruit flavors. My hands becoming sticky because why I was being sneaky and grabbing a pop, I stupidly forgot to grab Paper towels. This would become one of my greatest examples as a kid of not being prepared. Because a bump in the road later, spilled pop, an angry Mom and now my hands are sticky. You'd think that after a goodbye at the Foundry to my Dad we would head back home and nestle back into our beds, but no. 7 kids comes with a lot of responsibility and bills. Every day after my Mom took my Dad to work, we would begin our paper route. My brothers getting in and out of the car while my Mom drove slowly to the end of the block. This repetition until 7 a.m. and then it was my sister and I's turn. I can remember the excitement of feeling like a big kid getting to help. Then I can remember the nerves wondering what if someone came out or scared me. And yet the craziest part of my Memory is it's ability to stop, as if it is a video. I can get up to a certain part and then it pauses. And no matter how many times I try to play the video it stays frozen. After becoming so frustrated you just turn the video off. And then as if some cruel joke there are times where after it has been frozen for so long, it begins to sporadically play. But never lasting long enough for you to hear the part you were waiting for. Grief in this instance is a Bitch! 

When I was a little girl, the closest experience I ever had with Death was when my second Cousin died. Sure, it was sad and confusing; but overall he was a grown man or rather what I considered to be grown at the time. The most I saw of him was at family functions. However, I do have this one memory of him and I can still remember his voice and laughter vividly. We were at Easter dinner at my Grandparents and he and my Grandfather were outside smoking. My Grandparents had a front screen door with a window leveled for kids; so I could see them outside. We had the balls from a ball-pit throwing them at the door trying to gain their attention. My cousin turned around and smiled. Picked up imaginary balls that had magically teleported outside and were invisible!  He through them back to us at the door. I can remember his laugh was raspy. His voice was raspy and I have no idea why I remember it. Or that he loved Mountain Dew. Which now the question becomes if I didn't know him that well, why does this matter? Why does any of this matter? Why am I telling you this? The only anwser I have for you is Memories. Such a feeble thing, and yet I'm glad that I have them. Sometimes I wish that others were less memorable. Perhaps, even more blurrier. That some were longer. That others were clearer. That more happened. Words were said. Chances taken. Memories come with regrets too. This is where I'm struggling right now. Because Life has handed me one hell of a lesson. Hell, really lessons. One after the other. In fact, this would be the best way that I can actually explain my pessimistic tendencies and where they came from. Nonetheless, this blog is about those who were apart of my journey and still are, but I carry them different. We talk differently. I love them and show it differently. Their memory, our memories together I relive differently. They're here; even if it is differently. 

To really explain to you what life has been like recently, I have to start months back. This is where my Pessimistic tendencies really shine unfortunately. In my family I was always taught, "Hope for the best and Expect the worst." Because apparently being prepared and always on guard for bad things to happen is important. I mean it does actually help at times because you're less upset when those things happen; because you kinda go through the process of excepting it before it does. And being prepared does  have it's benefits and sometimes it works in your favor. I think you appreciate those things more because they were an anomaly. However, Greif is the loophole in that. My Mom has had a hard life, specifically medically. She has had over 20 surgeries in the past 10 years. This past year she was also diagnosed with Thyroid Cancer. She also would have a surgery before the the Thyroid one and it did not go as planned. We assumed she was fine and things were going good. She came home and seemed to be healing up as planned. Until days later, she would become sick. I remember getting ready for work and passing by her room and her asking for headache pills. I got them for her and then told her I loved her. I went to work, and by lunch I found out she was back in the hospital. Unable to keep anything down and her body began to betray her. She was hospitalized again and she got better. Came back home, and this cycle would repeat itself days later. My Mom was in the hospital for almost a month. She came home and finally they figured out what was going on! Life seemed to kinda go back to normal, well my normal. Mind you I have dealt with my Mom's medical journey most of my life. But sometimes Life it pulls punches in the most unfortunate and inconvenient of times. 

My Grandparents, as lovely and wise as they're; tech and computers is not their thing. My Mom told me they needed help with sending an email. At the time our bathtub decided to break on us so my Dad was fixing it. I get there, catch them up on life and then life gave me a call. My sister called, my Uncle had passed away. I remember all of this and then at the same time it was like time was standing still, and all I could hear was my breathing. But as quick as those words were being processed in my head I was soon being pulled back to reality with my Grandma yelling at me. Because in the shock I had dropped my phone and now sending an email for them was no longer my focus. Tears welled in my eyes, my voice shaking repeating the news. I can remember this, it was September sixth. But yet anytime I try to hear his laugh, nothing. Frustration does not even cover what I feel. I am fighting for those small details, because if I can't remember, if I can't hear them, will I forget...? I remembered our last conversation too. It was 2 weeks prior, he was in the hospital for an infection. I told him, "You can't leave me, we're suppose to go to Vegas!" My Uncle was always traveling. This man would travel to Ohio just for bread. Because he was retired and bored, so why not? Hey Ugly! I never thought I would miss hearing that. You're probably like who in the hell would miss that? Well, let me tell you something about me, every single relationship I have with people whether it be friends or family is unique. And this one was no different.  Anytime we would see each other we would say things like that. Always roasting each other and me giving him a stank face. And he'd inevitably do what he has done since I was a little girl, chasing me till he gave me a kiss on my cheek or forehead. I'd puff my cheeks out as if I was a blowfish to try to deter him, but it never did. Whenever I think about that, I smile. And this is the thought I hold onto when the sad memories cover me. Because like I said some memories come with regret. The last time my Uncle came over I was in the bathtub. I didn't want to get out, so I didn't. I heard later that he kept taking pictures of my parents and siblings, He wanted to remember. I regret not getting out of that tub. I feel guilty for not going outside. That could of been my last, "I Love you." It could of been my last kiss from him. Now, now all I'm left with is the guilt. Because Grief has a sick sense of humor at times. And He is called,  "Irony." If you remember I told you my Family moto, well Grief ran with that shit! Because here I am thinking I'm going to forget and what do you know, I'm at a stop sign drinking my Slurpee and crying. Why am I crying? Because this street that I drive on all the time happens to be named after my Uncle. (Fun fact about me: I have zero knowledge on directions. I cannot name a street to save my life, but I can name places. That is how I get around, I associate places to know how to get there. So I never actually know the names of streets.) Okay now that we added some context, this was not what I was expecting to see at 9 in the morning. Let me not forget looking like a crazy person in the front window of my job. Do you remember when you were a kid and your favorite song would come on and you would look out the window in the car as if you were in a music video to look cool and mysterious? Well this was nothing like that and no mystery about it, just me, ugly crying and then laughing in a window. And why was I cry-laughing?  Because I remember him picking me up from work once when my Mom was borrowing my car. I walked out of work to hear, " Hey Ugly, over here!" And simply seeing a car like his made me look like I lost my damn mind. Or recently to date loosing my shit on the top of a ladder when I saw the new hats we got in at work. I want you to imagine some fly 50 year old Spanish man with a suavesito demeanor strolling down an aisle with the confidence of a model macking on all the ladies. That was my Uncle, and for some damn reason those were the exact hats he'd wear and ultimately be buried in. Regardless of this, I am no stranger to Grief and loss, and I know that time is a healer, but damn. How long does one have to wait?

The Anwser, when the lesson you're meant to learn is finished. When the course is done? It is a Superstition that all Death travels in 3's. I wish it wasn't true, but I have seen it far to many times.  My Uncle was just Chapter One I guess. My cousin that I brought up earlier, well he is one of 3 kids. He had a brother and a sister. Each of them including their parents, his partner and their 2 kids struggled a lot after losing him. His brother specifically; he had a hard life. I honestly believe he never stopped grieving. Years of  distress, and hurt. But he seemed to find peace in it at moments. From all intent and purposes he was doing good, and then life handed my Aunt another blow.  My other cousin passed away on January 30th. And the timing could not be more cruller. Because his Birthday was February 1. He became Chapter 2, and you think I'd prepare myself right? Because that's what I have been taught? But no, I didn't. And I thought I hurt as much as I could. I was just starting to be able to talk about my Uncle without losing it; without my voice feeling like it was escaping me. But like I told you, not till the course is done. I just didn't realize the last Chapter would be you.

Chapter 3: I have this very unfortunate habit of forgetting time. When I'm with people or the rare moments I'm on an adventure, time just seems to fly by. I get lost in it, and then by the time I realize it. It's to late. Whether it be being late; passed an agreed upon time. Or me not opening messages right when they come in. Each time I have done that I have apologized profusely and always try to do better. To be more conscious of others and their time. This is where my Regret starts. February 7th started out a good day, I was in a great mood, and ready to take on my next chapter in life. Many ideas I had for what I wanted to do with my Blog, and the possibility of turning it into so much more. By now I had been writing them consistently and had some decent feedback. I always take pictures before each one. Each of them signifying my growth in Self Love and my Body. I was ecstatic to post the newest one but last minute for some reason, I decided that day I wanted a new camera. So I ventured out and store after store, no camera. Bummed, but still optimistic!  I mean I had a camera, so surely I could just use that one.  On the way home I passed by your street. When I reached the street before yours, something told me to stop by. You immediately popped into my head. I think about that a lot now. Why? How weird that the world gave me that feeling.  But I rationalized in my head that you were probably sleeping, because you always slept late. It was around 2 p.m. so I went home. My old camera would have to do, and so I took new photos. After some indecision, and nerves I posted my newest blog at 7:07 p.m. I waited for a notification. Because anytime I posted you were there front and center. But there was no notification. I thought it was odd, but figured you might of been busy. So I scrolled Facebook, and that is where my world collapsed. It had to be a joke? Some sick, ill willed joke. I couldn't get to your page fast enough. There it was, and the moment I read it my heart shattered. Yet again, my phone fell through my fingers. My parents sitting feet away from me watched in wonder. They kept asking me, "What was wrong?" I said it, but I didn't believe it. I walked into my room, and I lost it. Sobbing into my pillow, screaming internally. Not a day since you have passed has my world really made sense. We were friends, but we had potential to be so much more. We loved more then friends . We cared more than friends. We talked more than friends. Every single day, we would find time to catch up. Somehow in that time telling each other, "I Love you." You would remind me daily. You had sent me a Snapchat the night before, and I usually read them late. Because I always figure I have time. But I didn't. I read that message and cried. Because I realized it was the last response I'd ever get from you. Angry, I have been angry since you left. Angry at myself. I relive the last time I saw you over and over again in my head. And the moment it gets to the end where you walk back to the house from my car; my heart breaks even more. We had talked about doing something, something we wanted to since High School. Because we were both chicken shit back then. So neither of us made the move. Years would roll by, but regardless our friendship thrived. Especially this past year, we got closer and finally we weren't chicken shits anymore. Both confessing what was obvious. So after some moving, we finally got to hangout. Cut the shit, and just laugh. This is where my guilt is, Because you asked me for something, and I couldn't. Not because I didn't want to, but because of my ego and baggage. My inability to stop harping and let go got in the way. Reliving and replaying failed scenarios with people who don't mean shit. People who never should of known me or my body. Wanting some tv spark sitcom moment that happens when some toxic asshole finally realizes you're a gem. I was so convinced that I had put in the time and effort in past relationships that surely one of them was suppose to work, so I began to wonder what it was. Was it me? Was I the problem? Was I unlovable?  My fears, failures, and faults scared me. I was so caught up trying to get over my past and fix myself, I didn't want to hurt you in the process. Because the probability that this could become real scared me.  Because I have been used a million times before, but with you I knew it was real. I knew you were real. You had real genuine intentions. You saw me, the real me. Not the girl everyone else sees. You saw me vulnerable, and bare. Broken hearted and tired from the world. No extensions, no makeup, no bra, bags under my eyes, and you loved me in spite of all of that. It wasn't even a second thought. You loved me for my journey, and who I was and who I was becoming. Free, I finally started to see the light. From the moment we became High School Spouses to me now as a Mom, as a imperfect person. I didn't want to make you feel like you were a second choice. I wanted to be whole, I wanted to be able to give you my full attention.  For our first kiss to be special. This blog was helping me grow, it was helping me branch out and conquer old fears and break habits. I was getting better. You were making moves and had a world of opportunities unfolding in front of you. I knew eventually I'd get to the other side, and when I did we would have our time. But Time waits for no one. 

Time is such a strange thing. It has been more than a minute since I have posted. And truth is, I didn't want to post. Writing is one of  my passions very near and dear to me. It is my outlet. But writing this, this is the hardest task I have had thus far.  My hands have not been steady. My voice is often horse from screaming at the world. Exhaustion does not even cover what I feel most days. My fuse is short and my irritation is high. My chest is always aching. I have always had a hard time sleeping with Insomnia, and it has only gotten worse. Every part of me is drained and I just want to say, "FUCK THIS!" But I can't, because that is not what you would of wanted. It's not what I want deep down. What I want is you to be here. What I want is to be able to pickup the phone and call. What I want is to be able to see you again. Crack jokes on the phone. Tell each other about our days. Say, "I LOVE YOU." To hug you again. To have a chance. Ultimately I just want to stop grieving.  But even that is not healthy, because you have to grieve. You have to feel it, process it and accept it. This is my new normal, I don't like it. I hate it, and I wish for things to be so different. But me giving up is not what you would of wanted. Because you believed in me. You loved me. You were proud of me for facing my demons. You encouraged me all the time. Whether facetime, text or messenger. You were there and still are. Just a little different. I still talk to you, it's just a little different. I still see you, it's just a little different. You probably noticed that I did not say his name, and it is not for lack of wanting to acknowledge him. I saved the best for last. The story of how he and I began our journey. I met Cody in High School. Granted I knew of him because I was friends with his older brother, Jake. But in this classroom I would get to know him all on his own. He was corky, hilarious, and so much more. He could make you laugh so hard you pissed yourself. Sweet, sweet does not even cover him. By far one of the kindest souls I have ever been lucky to be entangled with. He made you a better person just by being authentically him. He was happy and always smiling. And if that smile ever left his face; the moment we were together I made a mission to bring it back. Jokes were are Love Language. It was how we connected. It is also the reason we got in trouble a bit. Some would call a distraction, I would refer to it as a Comedy set. But apples to oranges. Oh! And Let me not forget his smile! He could light up a room, his little gap in the front always made me smile. Because my Abuela had one, and I have overlapping front teeth. Something about the imperfection and how he embraced it proudly. This guy was a certified Cheeser! His eyes were beautiful, they were Green. My favorite color is Green, because I love grass. He also loved grass, but a different kind. Sorry I had to, lol. But there is nothing, nothing I miss more than his heart. When he loved you; you knew that you were loved. He could create a connection with anyone. A gentle soul, even when the world was not kind to him. This is what made me love you. This very thing is what made me fall for you. Because your heart outweighed all the better judgment. Because you believed in the possibilities. You couldn't or rather wouldn't see the bad, always looking for the good. Your ability to believe in the better, to have hope is what led you. My heart admired yours. Because we were the same. One day an Ice Cream party changed our title. An Elementary school contest would lead our class to host an Ice Cream party for the winner. While we were serving ice cream a little girl took a liking to him and I and said we were married. We would spend the next hour putting on the comedic show of a lifetime for that little girl and a few others. From that moment forth I was his wife and he my husband. And That is what we always referred to each other as. And it is what I always will refer to him as. Because Memories are how we keep those we love alive. Grief, while it is awful is another form of love. It is the price of love. It is remembering all the good, the laughter, the smiles and everything about those who are no longer with us.  It is taking the lessons we learned and using them to become better. It is remembering to live in the moment and cherish those we have. So I'm going to grieve. I'm going to keep his memory, my Uncles memory, and all those who are no longer with me alive. Because they're apart of my journey, some of the finest chapters, and they will forever be until we meet again. 

Dedicated to My Uncle Frank

& 

Cody; 

Forever my Husband