Friday, February 21, 2014
Rusted Wheel
When do you know when enough is enough? When you've gone way past your luck and you can't get unstuck. Do you still try to move forward with such an incompliant pull, only dragging out the inevitability of the final break? And what is it that you hold onto for dear life? Because once that wheel has rusted there is no turning back. For it lacks luster and can no longer be repaired. So will you save yourself from the fall that will eventually happen? Or will you ride that rusted wheel out and deal with the aftermath that becomes you? The you that ends up on the floor, picking up all of the million tiny pieces that are left and trying to piece yourself back together. But knowing that you will never be the same again, will you save face or will you ride that rusted wheel out?
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
#Stranger
Your sweetness has turned sour and its just really bleak to see this new person you are now, get rid of the person I once knew....
Friday, February 7, 2014
Living, breathing, grieving, not believing and deceiving
Okay so I realize that I somehow always incorporate my dad into these blog entries almost any and every time. But I mean in retrospect, he was a huge part of my life no matter which way I look at it. With that being said, my goal right now is to unveil the reality of the life that one has when losing a loved one. For those of you that have yet to experience this, brace yourself. But for those of you that have, then this of course is nothing new for you, so if you will just feel me as I am sure that you can relate.
Well, this journey started for me back in fall of 2011, which was my second semester of college. I was taking two classes, a development math class and a world religion class. Ironically, my world religion professor was also dealing with losing his father as well. He was an older man, probably in his 60's, but I noticed that he was missing a lot of classes. Not only that, but I could tell that his demeanor of teaching began to lose its effectiveness and became quite dull. I guess you could tell he was going through the motions and was just trying to keep it together. Well I couldn't relate to him at the time, because I didn't lose my dad until almost the end of the semester. But when I did I remember just feeling so despondent with everything and everyone in my life.
I guess you can say that I was the only one stuck on pause meanwhile everyone else was on fast forward. My student life wasn't so great because I missed a lot of school, for the simple fact that I was in the hospital for the majority of October visiting my dad. Hell, my family and I practically lived in there with him as much as we were there. Well I attempted to go to school thinking I would be able to catch up with all of my school work. But the odds were against me, at least with my math class. Its never been my subject and when I returned to class I couldn't comprehend anything my teacher was saying. However my world religion class was a different story. Which brings me to this one day when I just felt so broken. I remember coming from my math class and going to subway in the cafeteria to grab a bite to eat before my world religion class began. I had a whole hour to spare so I just took my time. But being in the state that I was in, I barely noticed anything that surrounded me. Well when I was leaving subway, I noticed a Christmas tree that the school had in the lobby. It was beautifully decorated and at the same time that one song from Mariah Carey came on, "All I want for Christmas." Well not too long after that I began to sob uncontrollably. I automatically had a flashback of my dad telling my niece, "Its gonna be a great Christmas this year!!" I could just picture his big smile as he said this and it just broke my heart. I then made a trip to the 7-11 to get a pack of cigarettes before I made my way to the other building where my class was. I still had a good amount of time to spare, so there I was on the sidewalk, smoking cigarette after cigarette, I saw my professor pass me up as he waved hi to me. I thought he went inside, but he turned right back around and came to me. I didn't know why though, maybe he saw all of the broken pieces of my heart on the floor around me or the dried up tears on my cheek. For whatever reason it was, he looked at me and said, "how are you doing? I know that's not really a smart question to ask, but how are you holding up?" I then put my cigarette out and struggled to get the words out of my mouth without sobbing. But I just replied to him in a sarcastic manor and said, "well I'm here, aren't I?" He shook his head at me and said, "I can't imagine losing my father at such a young age as you. My father was already over 80 and it was his time to go. And I was very accepting to that. But your father was so young and his life just ended so abruptly. Well in any case I just wanted to say that I'm proud of you, that you're still in school attempting to finish up what you started. Just keep at it." I just kept shaking my head in agreement, because on the inside all I wanted to do was cry even more. Although this was his attempt to make me feel better, somehow, it only made me feel worse. He then gave me a hug and said that he would see me in class. But when he left I began to feel quite astonished by him. Because the whole time I was standing there, not a soul bothered to ask me what was wrong. It was like I was invisible to the world except him. He had a great character to just come up to me and try to make me feel better. Well as you can imagine, I went into class with fresh red, swollen and glassy eyes from having another sob fest before class started.
I swear days like that obliterated any hope that I had of ever feeling better. It just kind of hit me hard when the hard was hitting. But not all of the days were as rough. Of course there were days when I would laugh with my sisters, mom, nieces and nephew. However, when I had those rough days, I always went to the same two people for words of encouragement, wisdom, shelter and of course some uplifting. They were both my mentors and they both had experience of losing their fathers as well. One was a former counselor of mine and the other was a former English teacher I once had. Both went beyond their duties of teaching and counseling me because I had no longer went to their school. I grew close to them because they felt my pain in a way that nobody else did, well outside of my immediate family for that matter. Well I always went to my counselor mentor because she felt like my mother away from home. Like I swear I was her adopted kid because we would both cry about the loss of our fathers. But it wasn't a bad cry, although I always provoked it from coming to her in the hopes of having the weight lifted off of me, it was sort of a therapeutic thing. She would always send me off with a spring in my step and a pocket full of dreams. My teacher mentor also did her part of counseling me and giving me advice on what to do to deal with things that were so raw in my life. She was always there to listen to all of the crazy things that were going on in my life, when I had no one else I trusted to hear me out. She also fostered my writing, always encouraging me to keep writing and never doubting that I would succeed greatly in class. Because she knew the great tenacity I had within myself. I guess they were both pushing me to do my best in their own ways. They both helped me move along as far as keeping my mind focused on school and off of feeling so defeated in my life about my dad.
So then this brings me to the third semester in college when I ran into someone else who had the same problem as I did. It came as a surprise to me because I really would have never known if I didn't decided to write this paper on this one subject. I wrote about the best day and the worst day in my life for my developmental writing class. Well my teacher had called me up to her desk and was wondering why I had put poor effort into this paper. Now at the time I was still pretty sensitive to talk about my dad without sobbing because of how fresh this life wound was. Well I wrote about the day I graduated and got my diploma as the best day of my life. For the worst day of my life I wrote about losing my dad. Which I went over lightly but it kind of just seemed like word vomit to her. Like I just threw my thoughts on a piece of paper and called it a day. So I started to go into depth with her about what I really wanted to say about my dad. She then began to tell me that she lost her father 15 years ago. She said that she also lost her father to colon cancer and that all of the things I was going through, she had already went through. But not long after that she stopped the conversation and said that she needed to walk around. She said that the feeling of not having her father was still so unsettling to her. As she walked out of the classroom I began to worry. Is this gonna be me? 15 years later and she still felt the same as when she first lost her dad. Seeing my teacher hurt like that really opened my eyes to the reality of what I had ahead of me.
After class that day, I felt the need to go and visit the Greyhound station that was literally a block down from school. Growing up, my mother, sisters and I would always be at the Greyhound station, either going to Houston, picking my dad up or dropping him off there. I don't really know why he wasn't with us in Dallas, but nonetheless, we were there frequently. I guess, in a sense, I was just trying to find my dad, like his spirit. Call me crazy, but I found comfort in being there. I wouldn't even do anything there but maybe catch a bite to eat and act like I was waiting on my bus. At one point one of the security guards began to recognize my face because of how often I would go there. He always asked me why I went there because he noticed that I never got on any of the buses. But I never told him, I already felt really self conscious about being there. I would just be there collecting myself, wondering. Where are you? Are you here waiting to be picked up or waiting to go to Houston? Are you already in Houston with all of your brothers and sisters? Are you at the lake fishing? Are you painting houses? Are you at work being a boss man and making sure everyone does their job right? Where are you and why aren't you here with your family??!! These were some of things I wouldn't think about during the day because of how busy I kept myself with school and things at home. If I thought about these things during the day, I wouldn't get anything done. I guess I kind of tricked my mind into thinking that he was somewhere else in the world and not just flat out existential. But I guess that was just my way of dealing with the permanent absence of my dad.
Well as you can imagine I wasn't the only one dealing with my dad's death. I cant really say that I'm the one that feel the worst about it because that's unfair. My mother, sisters, nieces and nephew all have their own way of dealing with it and feeling the way they feel about this. But I can tell you that it always kills a part of me when I see or hear my mother mourn. Because there is not a thing that I can say or do to help fill the void she feels from my dad not being here. I don't even know what to tell her when this occurs. At times it makes me feel heartless because I don't know what to say. That was her high school sweetheart, they have been married for like 30 years. What can you say to make that hurt feel any better? All I do is just go up to her, hug her for as long as she holds onto me, tell her how much I love her and how much I miss him too.
Then there are my sisters that come to me when they feel the empty void as well. They come to me with the same kind of hurt in their hearts. At times crying, but they never cry alone, because I'm right next to them crying and laughing at the same time. Because when you're an emotional wreck, laughter is the only thing that can help save you from hurting so much. I swear its like a domino effect because when one of us feels it, we all feel it.
There's also the kids that I worry about. My niece is about 4 years old but she also feels the void as little as she is. She remembers all of the weird names he used to call her and she'll cry for him saying, "I miss my papa." She says the same thing about her dad too. He passed away back in March of 2010. But it just breaks my heart when she cries for them, like she's little enough to know she misses them. But I really worry about when she gets older and understands the concept fully. I mean I can kind of feel Madison's pain when she cries for her dad, because I used to cry for my dad when he wasn't there with us. Of course I knew he was somewhere else, not fully gone like her dad. I just feel so bad for her, I hug her as tight as I can and tell her that I love her hundreds and hundreds of times. Then there's my other niece that's closer to me in age, that is more of like a little sister to me. But I'm always there listening to her through the good and the bad days. I'll cry and laugh with her as well, because we have a lot of the same memories of my dad. Last but not least there's my nephew, who was like my dad's son you could say. Because everywhere my dad went, my nephew was right there next to him, following him and helping him with everything. My nephew is always imitating the things my dad would do and say. He also has his moments when he remembers all of the places my dad used to take him and will get upset and cry. He's the man of the family so we all try our best to make him feel so loved and special.
You know, I guess you could say that my family and I are like a quilt. Because when one of us starts to tear apart, we are all there ready to stitch each other back together again.
This is all just a peak of what goes on in the reality of life when you lose someone. I can only paint a picture of all of the living, breathing, grieving, not believing, and deceiving of the effectiveness of losing a loved one. You can only truly feel what its like until you lose a close loved one. So I hope I have painted an intricate picture for you to view of this kind of life.
Well, this journey started for me back in fall of 2011, which was my second semester of college. I was taking two classes, a development math class and a world religion class. Ironically, my world religion professor was also dealing with losing his father as well. He was an older man, probably in his 60's, but I noticed that he was missing a lot of classes. Not only that, but I could tell that his demeanor of teaching began to lose its effectiveness and became quite dull. I guess you could tell he was going through the motions and was just trying to keep it together. Well I couldn't relate to him at the time, because I didn't lose my dad until almost the end of the semester. But when I did I remember just feeling so despondent with everything and everyone in my life.
I guess you can say that I was the only one stuck on pause meanwhile everyone else was on fast forward. My student life wasn't so great because I missed a lot of school, for the simple fact that I was in the hospital for the majority of October visiting my dad. Hell, my family and I practically lived in there with him as much as we were there. Well I attempted to go to school thinking I would be able to catch up with all of my school work. But the odds were against me, at least with my math class. Its never been my subject and when I returned to class I couldn't comprehend anything my teacher was saying. However my world religion class was a different story. Which brings me to this one day when I just felt so broken. I remember coming from my math class and going to subway in the cafeteria to grab a bite to eat before my world religion class began. I had a whole hour to spare so I just took my time. But being in the state that I was in, I barely noticed anything that surrounded me. Well when I was leaving subway, I noticed a Christmas tree that the school had in the lobby. It was beautifully decorated and at the same time that one song from Mariah Carey came on, "All I want for Christmas." Well not too long after that I began to sob uncontrollably. I automatically had a flashback of my dad telling my niece, "Its gonna be a great Christmas this year!!" I could just picture his big smile as he said this and it just broke my heart. I then made a trip to the 7-11 to get a pack of cigarettes before I made my way to the other building where my class was. I still had a good amount of time to spare, so there I was on the sidewalk, smoking cigarette after cigarette, I saw my professor pass me up as he waved hi to me. I thought he went inside, but he turned right back around and came to me. I didn't know why though, maybe he saw all of the broken pieces of my heart on the floor around me or the dried up tears on my cheek. For whatever reason it was, he looked at me and said, "how are you doing? I know that's not really a smart question to ask, but how are you holding up?" I then put my cigarette out and struggled to get the words out of my mouth without sobbing. But I just replied to him in a sarcastic manor and said, "well I'm here, aren't I?" He shook his head at me and said, "I can't imagine losing my father at such a young age as you. My father was already over 80 and it was his time to go. And I was very accepting to that. But your father was so young and his life just ended so abruptly. Well in any case I just wanted to say that I'm proud of you, that you're still in school attempting to finish up what you started. Just keep at it." I just kept shaking my head in agreement, because on the inside all I wanted to do was cry even more. Although this was his attempt to make me feel better, somehow, it only made me feel worse. He then gave me a hug and said that he would see me in class. But when he left I began to feel quite astonished by him. Because the whole time I was standing there, not a soul bothered to ask me what was wrong. It was like I was invisible to the world except him. He had a great character to just come up to me and try to make me feel better. Well as you can imagine, I went into class with fresh red, swollen and glassy eyes from having another sob fest before class started.
I swear days like that obliterated any hope that I had of ever feeling better. It just kind of hit me hard when the hard was hitting. But not all of the days were as rough. Of course there were days when I would laugh with my sisters, mom, nieces and nephew. However, when I had those rough days, I always went to the same two people for words of encouragement, wisdom, shelter and of course some uplifting. They were both my mentors and they both had experience of losing their fathers as well. One was a former counselor of mine and the other was a former English teacher I once had. Both went beyond their duties of teaching and counseling me because I had no longer went to their school. I grew close to them because they felt my pain in a way that nobody else did, well outside of my immediate family for that matter. Well I always went to my counselor mentor because she felt like my mother away from home. Like I swear I was her adopted kid because we would both cry about the loss of our fathers. But it wasn't a bad cry, although I always provoked it from coming to her in the hopes of having the weight lifted off of me, it was sort of a therapeutic thing. She would always send me off with a spring in my step and a pocket full of dreams. My teacher mentor also did her part of counseling me and giving me advice on what to do to deal with things that were so raw in my life. She was always there to listen to all of the crazy things that were going on in my life, when I had no one else I trusted to hear me out. She also fostered my writing, always encouraging me to keep writing and never doubting that I would succeed greatly in class. Because she knew the great tenacity I had within myself. I guess they were both pushing me to do my best in their own ways. They both helped me move along as far as keeping my mind focused on school and off of feeling so defeated in my life about my dad.
So then this brings me to the third semester in college when I ran into someone else who had the same problem as I did. It came as a surprise to me because I really would have never known if I didn't decided to write this paper on this one subject. I wrote about the best day and the worst day in my life for my developmental writing class. Well my teacher had called me up to her desk and was wondering why I had put poor effort into this paper. Now at the time I was still pretty sensitive to talk about my dad without sobbing because of how fresh this life wound was. Well I wrote about the day I graduated and got my diploma as the best day of my life. For the worst day of my life I wrote about losing my dad. Which I went over lightly but it kind of just seemed like word vomit to her. Like I just threw my thoughts on a piece of paper and called it a day. So I started to go into depth with her about what I really wanted to say about my dad. She then began to tell me that she lost her father 15 years ago. She said that she also lost her father to colon cancer and that all of the things I was going through, she had already went through. But not long after that she stopped the conversation and said that she needed to walk around. She said that the feeling of not having her father was still so unsettling to her. As she walked out of the classroom I began to worry. Is this gonna be me? 15 years later and she still felt the same as when she first lost her dad. Seeing my teacher hurt like that really opened my eyes to the reality of what I had ahead of me.
After class that day, I felt the need to go and visit the Greyhound station that was literally a block down from school. Growing up, my mother, sisters and I would always be at the Greyhound station, either going to Houston, picking my dad up or dropping him off there. I don't really know why he wasn't with us in Dallas, but nonetheless, we were there frequently. I guess, in a sense, I was just trying to find my dad, like his spirit. Call me crazy, but I found comfort in being there. I wouldn't even do anything there but maybe catch a bite to eat and act like I was waiting on my bus. At one point one of the security guards began to recognize my face because of how often I would go there. He always asked me why I went there because he noticed that I never got on any of the buses. But I never told him, I already felt really self conscious about being there. I would just be there collecting myself, wondering. Where are you? Are you here waiting to be picked up or waiting to go to Houston? Are you already in Houston with all of your brothers and sisters? Are you at the lake fishing? Are you painting houses? Are you at work being a boss man and making sure everyone does their job right? Where are you and why aren't you here with your family??!! These were some of things I wouldn't think about during the day because of how busy I kept myself with school and things at home. If I thought about these things during the day, I wouldn't get anything done. I guess I kind of tricked my mind into thinking that he was somewhere else in the world and not just flat out existential. But I guess that was just my way of dealing with the permanent absence of my dad.
Well as you can imagine I wasn't the only one dealing with my dad's death. I cant really say that I'm the one that feel the worst about it because that's unfair. My mother, sisters, nieces and nephew all have their own way of dealing with it and feeling the way they feel about this. But I can tell you that it always kills a part of me when I see or hear my mother mourn. Because there is not a thing that I can say or do to help fill the void she feels from my dad not being here. I don't even know what to tell her when this occurs. At times it makes me feel heartless because I don't know what to say. That was her high school sweetheart, they have been married for like 30 years. What can you say to make that hurt feel any better? All I do is just go up to her, hug her for as long as she holds onto me, tell her how much I love her and how much I miss him too.
Then there are my sisters that come to me when they feel the empty void as well. They come to me with the same kind of hurt in their hearts. At times crying, but they never cry alone, because I'm right next to them crying and laughing at the same time. Because when you're an emotional wreck, laughter is the only thing that can help save you from hurting so much. I swear its like a domino effect because when one of us feels it, we all feel it.
There's also the kids that I worry about. My niece is about 4 years old but she also feels the void as little as she is. She remembers all of the weird names he used to call her and she'll cry for him saying, "I miss my papa." She says the same thing about her dad too. He passed away back in March of 2010. But it just breaks my heart when she cries for them, like she's little enough to know she misses them. But I really worry about when she gets older and understands the concept fully. I mean I can kind of feel Madison's pain when she cries for her dad, because I used to cry for my dad when he wasn't there with us. Of course I knew he was somewhere else, not fully gone like her dad. I just feel so bad for her, I hug her as tight as I can and tell her that I love her hundreds and hundreds of times. Then there's my other niece that's closer to me in age, that is more of like a little sister to me. But I'm always there listening to her through the good and the bad days. I'll cry and laugh with her as well, because we have a lot of the same memories of my dad. Last but not least there's my nephew, who was like my dad's son you could say. Because everywhere my dad went, my nephew was right there next to him, following him and helping him with everything. My nephew is always imitating the things my dad would do and say. He also has his moments when he remembers all of the places my dad used to take him and will get upset and cry. He's the man of the family so we all try our best to make him feel so loved and special.
You know, I guess you could say that my family and I are like a quilt. Because when one of us starts to tear apart, we are all there ready to stitch each other back together again.
This is all just a peak of what goes on in the reality of life when you lose someone. I can only paint a picture of all of the living, breathing, grieving, not believing, and deceiving of the effectiveness of losing a loved one. You can only truly feel what its like until you lose a close loved one. So I hope I have painted an intricate picture for you to view of this kind of life.
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