It’s been 17 months since Rocio’s death, and the time since then has basically been a rollercoaster for my family and myself. Finally, on April, 22nd we got a call from the D.A. informing us that the person held responsible for the car accident was about to accept the plea bargain. I will refer to this person by “him” (or “his” when denoting his possessive) since posting his real name would serve no purpose…
Archive for the ‘personal’ Category
There are times all of us complain and whine about how difficult things are. Life is hard, we are slaves to the grind and such. And if we are not placing our asses on the couch singing our lamentations while munching the last bucket of Häagen-Dazs, we get bogged down by others who do.
It is at times like those when we forget that no matter how shitty we feel, there are others who are in worse situations. Moreover, it is at times like those when we feel compelled to blame our failures to the inextricable bad karma that keeps shitting on our necks.
It is a time like this when we have to see individuals like Amanda Victoria who not only survived non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, but have the fortitude to get in the best shape possible after such ordeal.
It’s ok to whine, to complain and cry. Just never forget that there is always someone in a worse situation than yours, and that there are people who come back strong from situations worse than yours.
Suffering is part of being human, but no human ever has monopoly over it.
… or boredom. Whichever it is, I think it momentarily sparkled my artistic creativity…
…. weeeeeee, I’m a fucking kite, man!!!!
In a few hours it will be Dec, 18 2007. Exactly one year since my sister Rocio died in a car accident. On her way, with my mother, my sister Raquel and my baby nephew, on her way to show them the church she had selected for her wedding. There is consolation in knowing that she didn’t feel a thing, or so we hope. She would be 30 years by now.
The hardest part of this is so confusing, it is hard to even describe. It is fear to forget her face, her voice, her smile. It’s the pain of having an entire life of shared memories being taken away from you in one single, fleeting moment. It is the cold pain and horror of knowing you have to live the rest of your life without her.
It is at times like this when we finally realize we live in borrowed time. We are dust, from the time we come out screaming out of the womb from the time to meet our Maker. And it is in this realization that we must appreciate every single moment we have in this Earth with our family and friends.
Our father at the local parish says that an honest doubt is closer to the truth and to true faith than a creed lived half-way and superficially. And there are doubts that plague me from time to time on the nature of our existence and on the immortality of our very souls ever since she left us. Specially in times like this, on the eve of Christmas.
But there is also the remainder, that deep, complex and honest questions are closer to the truth than cheap, generic answers. And deep questions do not engender nor call for cheap, generic answers.
If there is something my family learn from Rocio is that faith move mountains, and that answers given by God to us are not necessarily of our present liking or comfort, but that they are for our benefit and betterment. And this I know that our family, here and back in Nicaragua, had gotten closer after this tragedy, and aware, more than ever, that we are mortal, that we are human, that we are subject to God and human nature, just like every person that has walked the face of this earth.
Is this a rationalization of my sister’s death? Perhaps so. Certainly so for the cynical. But if I am to cherish and honor my sister’s memory, I must also accept the faith that have always tied us together. For it was God, and God alone who gave us the wit and fortitude to survive the many challenges we faced since we were forced to leave our country.
Many perils we went through together. Now, we must face new ones without her. But I know that she looks upon us from where she is now. God bless you for having been with us for 29 years. In this Christmas, we love you and we miss more than ever.