It was February 2009, and still a bit chilly out, but I was so excited to be back in California that not even the cold could ruin my mood. We were on our way to the beach, but first we were making a stop at one of Beau's cousin's house. I remember walking up to the little house with palm trees in the front yard. We walked up to the front door, and through the screen I could see one gigantic rottweiler just staring us down while giving a low growl. Right behind him was this young thin framed kid, who looked like he had just woken up, reaching over to unlatch the door.
You had a smirk on your face. I will never forget that. Your eyes crinkled when you smiled, and your head was shaved down pretty short which I later learned was basically your staple look. I remember how you laughed, and cracked jokes. The night before had been pretty wild for you, and your brother at this party you were telling us about. You were both just waking up, and once we arrived all three of you started making plans to have the rest of the family meet up for lunch. But first, I had to see the ocean. I had to go stand on that beach. You told me it was a good day for it. We stayed there about thirty minutes, smoking, and talking about your plans. About ours. I had a plastic bottle in my hand, and I remember tapping it on my leg. Everyone was making their way out of the room, and as I started to get up I looked down for a moment. As I looked back up I was face to face with the rottweiler. He started to growl, and there I was half sitting, half standing; frozen. Your brother and Beau had walked into the kitchen, and you were coming back in to grab some papers. I'm sure you saw the panic on my face because this dog was almost the size of a Saint Bernard, and I had no idea what to do other than to stay still. I remember you laughing. I remember scowling at you, as you said "Give him the bottle." Everyone else came back to see what was going on. "He's not going to let you out of the room until you give him the bottle." So, I slowly offered up the bottle, and that giant of yours snatched it from my hand and trotted off. And then you smirked.
It was February 2012, and it was cold in Texas. I had just gotten home from work, and Beau had told me that his cousin was coming over. He had been there a few months already to "get his shit together", but now he was off to better things. He was going home. But he needed to stay the night. I can't remember what time he came in, and truth be told I was so damn tired with classes and work that I really didn't care. It was Thursday, and I just wanted to make it through Friday without falling asleep at my desk. So I was a little agitated when Beau asked if I didn't mind waking up earlier (than originally planned) to take his cousin into town so he could grab a few things before catching a bus ride out of town. Saying goodbye to that extra hour of sleep, I agreed.
You were up before I was. Excited to be going home. We had a 25 minute drive ahead of us, and I'm sure the fact that I wasn't a morning person became very apparent, very quickly. I don't think I was rude; just tired. I felt like I was moving in slow motion. After getting dressed, we bundled up, and you said your goodbyes to Beau. Then we were off. I asked you why you were leaving so soon? Was Texas really that bad? "It's not home," you said. "And what exactly is home?" I countered. "My family, the beach, the salty air! Don't you remember it?" you asked me. "Well of course I do, but sometimes going home isn't always in the cards. Sometimes we can't go back until we've learned what we need to from being where we currently are in life." I explained. You laughed at me, crinkled eyes, and simply said, "Home is home. You always find your way back." So I asked you what you would be doing? You explained your plans, and what you hoped would happen when you got there. You told me to pull into Starbucks, and you bought me a coffee. We sat there in line and I kept asking you questions. Where would you go? What's the first thing you'd do? Do you remember what you told me? You said, "When I get back I'm going to get on my board, and paddle out. I miss surfing! I miss the beach. You have nowhere to surf here; Texas should really fix that." I laughed and rolled my eyes as you asked, "How can you stand being so far way from the ocean?" Looking over I simply stated "I grew up here, I'm used to it. Oceanside spoiled me though. I do miss the beach." You smiled and shook your head before continuing, "Well, anyway, I'm going to sit on my board as the waves lap under me. And I'm going to enjoy the ride." We continued talking about small things, and as I dropped you off at your Aunt's house I gave you this awkward side hug. You told me that you'd see us the next time we came out to visit. And I told you that it would probably be you coming back to visit us first. "Maybe," you replied as you closed the car door. I rolled down the window, "Hey! Take care of yourself, okay?" I called out. You turned around, and waved. And then you smirked.
It's November 2016. It's chilly, but unusually warm for this time of year. We got the news on Thanksgiving morning. It wasn't good. But we prayed, and that request branched out to others as well. There was hope, and every single moment that my mind was not focused on something else it was praying for him. I prayed as I drove, and right before bed. I prayed when I woke up, and as I got dressed. On Saturday we were told that things looked better, and we all sat in Gigi's kitchen crying, hugging, and thanking God. There was this sigh of relief, and it's as if we didn't realize we had been holding our breath. We prayed some more. We had hope. We smiled, and we clung to that progress so tightly that our fingers would have turned white had it actually been a physical rope. But then Sunday morning greeted us, and you had gotten worse.
I am so mad at you, kid. "Wake up, damn it." You never came for that visit. We didn't get a chance to go see you. "Wake up." A lot of people are hurting right now, do you see it? Do you see how loved you are? How much you are wanted? You were supposed to beat this. Grow old, meet that soulmate I know is out there for you, and have a bunch of kids. Okay maybe just two? "Wake up." You were supposed to be there when we finally get a chance to go back to that beach. Your beach. My beach. And I needed you to let me borrow a surfboard, to help me paddle out, so I could have that "eye opening" epiphany I know is waiting for me out there on those waves. "You have to wake up." You are kind, funny, caring, and loyal. That is apparent in all of the ways that you treat your friends and family. You are also set in your ways, and so damn stubborn. You made mistakes, I get it. And you slipped into a life that we all would rather you didn't. But we all have our faults, and every one of us has issues. Don't you see that? "Wake up, wake up." Today is your birthday. You're now twenty seven years old, and this is not how it should be spent. There should be drinks, and dinner. A party, and gifts. You should be visiting your mom, and thanking her for giving you life because she's a champ for going through childbirth without wine. Today is your day, kid. "Move." I didn't get a chance to really get to know you. But the handful of times that we spoke I knew you were a great person right off the bat. Do you remember the times you spent at our house, the rundown little shack, and how you'd bring us left over food from the steakhouse? The coffee you bought me when you knew I had been up for a long stretch? Your love for animals, and how kind you are to them. I mean, Sampson loved you when you came over. And the way you held Emery when she was little, and made the peek-a-boo faces with her. Yea...I caught that. These were all the things you did because you are good. Cracks and all. And a lot of people need to see that. You have your whole life ahead of you, and I need you to take it. "Please...wake up..."
Whatever happens, I will always remember this smile. That smirk. The way your eyes light up, crinkle up, and that laugh. I'm still praying for a miracle. I'm still holding onto hope, and I am grasping so tight because I don't want to let go just yet. All of this emotion from someone who only met you a few times is probably weird, huh? But you're Beau's family, and that makes you my family. His loss, and their loss is also my own. We always asked about you, and hoped that one day something would click. I looked forward to hearing that you were doing well. I found out from Gigi that things were turning around for you, and maybe that's why this reality is so hard to accept right now? You are such a light, James. For so many, and it sucks that you might not even know it. I know Beau doesn't say much or show much emotion when around everyone, but trust me when I say that inside the privacy of our home he let it out. The anger, the sadness, the hurt, and the loss was all there. We are all feeling it. I hope you know how loved you are though. How much your absence would/will be felt. But most of all I wish you peace in whatever comes. Until we meet again...💚
*The picture above was taken by his mom. Credit goes to her.
