HBD, Little

Dear Little,

Today, you turned 15. And I can't believe how quickly that got here. Soon you'll be taking your learner's permit test. And before long you'll be driving yourself to school. I mean, HOW? How can you already be at this point in life? Wasn't it just last week that we brought you home from the hospital? Wasn't it just yesterday that you were singing along to the Wiggles? Time went by so fast, Little. 

I miss the days when you would cling to my neck. Rub your nose on mine. And giggle at how it tickled. I miss the baby cheeks and the tiny little clothes. The way you would say "mama" and reach up so I would pick you up. Sometimes, when you fall asleep, I glimpse that little baby. And I can recall those little giggles. 

All of that said, I am so proud of the person you're becoming! You try new things all of the time. You still blow kisses at me as you get out of the vehicle during school drop-off. You still like to run errands with me. You help me clean when you see things are overwhelming me at home. You hold your little brother when I need to get something done and he's too fussy to put down in the bassinet. And there's no one else I'd rather binge-watch The Kardashians with than you. You are wise, smart, and funny. You're beautiful and strong-willed. You love to talk to me before bed, and there are no secrets. I'm thankful for another year here with you. I am so grateful that God allowed me to be your mom.

Here's to YOUR next chapter. Praying, always, that it's filled with laughter, love, and joy. 

Love,                                 

Mom                                

Little Things // Being Loved

Sometimes, I get hung up on these fantasies about what being loved is supposed to look like. How it should be given/received. I’ve spent a lot of time reading romance novels, watching romantic movies, and binge-watching whatever comes on the Hallmark Channel that I’ll catch myself thinking, “See? Why doesn’t my partner do stuff like this?” or "That's how family gatherings should be!" As if any of those characters or scenarios are even real for me to be comparing their actions. Insert eye-roll. Then, my anxiety and insecurity get the best of me and I start to worry that I’m giving too much. I wonder whether I should hold back or if my efforts are even being matched. I question whether I’m loving others enough. If my daughter is feeling or seeing it from me. And often, I forget that we all have different love languages. I forget that there are so many different ways for us to show love. I forget that sometimes it’s the little things that are the most important. 

Being loved is when he says, “Don’t worry, I’ve got it” even after he’s had a long day of hard labor. It’s when she says, “Mommy, thank you for being the best mom ever.” Being loved is when he checks the oil level in my car as well as the pressure in my tires. It’s when she randomly comes up to hug me after a long day. Being loved is when I have the music playing and he pulls me away from the kitchen sink to dance. It’s when she gives me a quick smooch before getting out of the car. Being loved is when he cooks my favorite meal and serves us all our plates. It’s when she snuggles up on the couch with me to watch a movie. Being loved is when he rolls over in the middle of the night, pulls me in close, and says, “Thank you, for all that you do. It doesn’t go unnoticed.” It’s in the excitement in her face when she tells me about something that’s just made her day. Being loved is when he apologizes when he knows he's said or done something to upset me. It’s when she says, “It’s okay mommy, I love you” after I’ve had to ask her for forgiveness for being too harsh. 

Being loved is when they both extend me a good amount of grace on my bad days. When they’re both patient with my mood swings. Being loved is seeing these two incredibly important people in my life get along and laugh together. It’s when we all pile into bed and talk for an hour before falling asleep. Being loved is when he kills the random insect that finds its way into her room or the spider that makes its way into ours. It’s when she asks to bake brownies because she knows they’re his favorite. Being loved is when he finally addressed the hamster by name rather than “the rat” just to appease her. It’s when she opens up to me about the hard stuff she’s going through. Being loved is when he teaches her something new and spends time trying to understand a bit about where this ten-year-old little girl is coming from. It’s when she high fives him after he’s sat through one of her ridiculously long stories. It’s in the understanding that comes from each of them at the end of our day. 

Lately, life looks so much more different than I ever imagined it would. My daughter is thriving and we are learning to stand a bit on our own two feet. She’s becoming more independent and trying new things. She’s also very open with me about how she feels and what’s hard for her. I really hope that never changes. My partner isn’t perfect, and sometimes that selective hearing of his can drive me up the wall. Arguments can have us not speaking for a whole day, but at the end of it, he shows up. Whether it’s reaching for my hand in the middle of the night to give it a squeeze, or hearing me out when I’m the one that needs to apologize. He’s there. He’s helped to ease some of the harsh criticism that I dish out about my body when I’m alone. And they’ve both given me the gift of laughter on most days. I’m constantly being shown that I’m loved. It’s being offered to me, unconditionally, all of the time. When I finally take a break from all of the heavy things going on in life to take stock in all of the blessings that I have, it makes my heart so happy. This season that I’m in; of healing. It’s been one of the most incredible seasons of my life! It’s wrapped up in understanding and love. It's shown me that I can do hard things, with grace. It’s shown me that the little gestures are just as important, if not more so than the big ones. And in most cases, it’s the daily little ones that end up meaning the most.

Making An Unlikely Semi-Friend

A while back I was talking to my sister-in-law about how alone I had been feeling lately. And I don’t mean this in the sense of not having a partner anymore either. Well, it’s not just about that. I’m talking more along the lines of having someone you can talk to about the recent book you read or show you've watched. Someone that helps you out when you need it. Someone who’s totally okay with 3 AM text messages when you can’t sleep. Someone who’s willing to sit there and listen to you as you work out your problems out loud. Not so much to give their opinion, but instead just to be there so that you know someone hears you. And maybe, sometimes, when you get a little emotional over your recent divorce they’re there to say, “Fuck them for hurting you.” So basically, a friend in every sense of the word. Because sometimes that’s all you need. It’s not about having a romantic relationship or trying to hook up with someone either. Now even though I have a handful of really great friends, the closest one has always been an hour and a half away. And the way I feel about making new friends is exactly the same as how some people feel when it comes to where they should place their hands while posing for pictures. It’s awkward, and I just don’t know what to do. But imagine the laugh I let out when my sister-in-law suggested that I should think about striking up a friendship with that one dude who’s already in my life part-time (ish).  

First, I’d like to just point out that other than my brother and sister-in-law, Dude and I have very little in common. I’m older, with a lot of responsibilities, and usually preoccupied with my daughter. His only responsibilities are keeping his dog alive and showing up to work on time. I enjoy watching all kinds of movies and shows. He’s not a fan of TV, and proudly states that he lives under a rock when it comes to not knowing about anything current. I decided a while back that I didn’t really want to consume alcohol anymore, and it’s rare for me to have a drink. In his case, it would be rare to see him without an alcoholic drink. And in the times that we’ve all hung out together he and I never really talk to each other. It’s always been us taking part in group conversations. So, in my eyes, he’s their friend; not mine. I laughed off her suggestion and thought she was ridiculous for even bringing it up. But then, fast forward a week later and I’m basically desperate to talk to anyone. I’m feeling really anxious, I’ve been tossing and turning for hours, and it’s a little after 1AM. I started scrolling through my contacts wondering who else could possibly be up at 1AM on a weekday. And that’s when the realization hit that the only person I knew, who would be up that late, was Dude. Before I continue I'd like to take this time to just say that I'm really proud of myself for holding out for a good forty minutes that morning. However, when I saw the clock read 2AM, desperation won out. I quickly typed up a text and closed my eyes as I hit the send button. As soon as I heard the little “ting” signaling his response I immediately regretted my decision. “Oh, fuck. Here we go,” I thought as I let out a sigh before raising the phone up to see his response.

Now, let me just give you a brief history on Dude and I. We’ve never really gotten along. There’s usually name calling, and threats of inflicting bodily harm involved. I’ve even gone as far as to throw physical objects at him. Trust me, with his mouth, you wouldn’t be above that either. He’s probably one of the last people I could have ever seen myself being real friends with if I’m being honest. We’d kill each other. But you know what? Color me fucking surprised. Because now, Dude is my semi-friend (he’s begrudgingly accepting this label). That night, when I picked up my phone, Dude was actually nice and sympathetic towards what I was going through. He even went as far as playing 21 questions with me until I fell asleep. Then one afternoon he came over and watched "Peaky Blinders" with me while I waited for Emery to come back home. I mean, we spent the entire time arguing over the episodes and the character’s actions. There may or may not have been a shoe thrown. But the time flew by and before I knew it Emery was back. That same evening is when he mentioned that he prefers to read books over watching TV. So we agreed to read each other’s favorite books and then later plan on getting together to discuss them. When I handed over “It Ends With Us” by Colleen Hoover he looked at me in confusion as he said, “This is...umm...REALLY pink.” I smiled smugly as he shook his head and walked to his truck. As of this posting, he’s made it through the first chapter safely. Then a few days ago, when he stopped by to drop off his book, it was his turn to smile smugly. Because of course, his favorite book is written entirely in Spanish. Challenge accepted. And finally, when I needed help with my flower beds he came over and accepted Taco Bell as payment for his gardening services. So, it's been nice having these challenges that we dish out to help keep me preoccupied.  

Overall, it’s been interesting getting to know him a bit better. Obviously, we’re really different, with different upbringings, and in completely different seasons in life. And yet, there’s still a lot that we can agree on. Thankfully, our dynamic has remained the same which I'm really happy about. At first, I thought it would be awkward for some reason? But the only real change is that we can actually get along now. You better believe I'm still gonna throw something at him when he says some stupid shit though. So, I guess, I should give credit where credit is due, right? And since I know he’ll never read this I’m gonna go ahead with expressing my thanks.

So, thanks, Ramon. Thanks for taking pity on this “old lady”. Still not 35 though. Thanks for answering my random ass questions at 2 AM. And the second round at 3 AM. Thanks for showing me the correct way to plant my plants. For not laughing too loudly when I jumped at the twig I thought was a snake. Thanks for allowing me to bounce ideas off of you, no matter how crazy they may be. Your facial expressions sometimes say otherwise but at least you don't verbalize those thoughts. Thanks for allowing me to lean on you after a really rough day. I know how much you hate being touched so you were a real trooper that afternoon. But most importantly, thanks for allowing me to call you my “semi-friend”. Though I’m sure by the end of the year we’ll be BFF’s and braiding each other’s hair. Anyway, life has been a little rocky for me lately, and you’ve been kind enough to help me stay busy. To not feel so alone in this tiny little town. So, thank you. Again. It’s really and truly appreciated. 

Thoughts On A Stranger

This post was written on June 12, 2018

I’m not exactly sure what direction this post will go in. Sometimes I just have to purge some feelings, you know? And so, they get stuck here for you to read or not read. But they need to go somewhere or I’ll start to drive myself crazy with all of the overthinking. Sorry! Now, today, I need to talk about something that happened in our little town. It’s nothing out of the ordinary really. It happens all over the world. Every day. Every minute. Someone dies. Now, I know I know, you’re probably sitting there thinking “What the hell, Raquel? Why so fixated on such depressing subject matter lately?” Well, I’m sorry y’all but apparently this month was just a downer. But bear with me, okay? 

On Sunday morning I woke up around 2 am to the sounds of sirens. They weren't extremely loud so I knew it wasn't on my block, but they were loud enough to know it was close. Since they woke me up I got out of bed and walked to the back door. I opened it, and I looked around. Still half asleep I shuffled outside, and just stood there quietly for a few moments listening. After a bit I made my way back in; back to my bed. I fell asleep thinking about the smell of smoke. Later that morning, around 8 am, my mother called to ask if we had power. She was at the grocery store a few blocks down the road and they were experiencing a power outage. She asked if I had seen all of the fire trucks blocking off one of the roads, and whether I knew if a transform had blown. Half asleep I responded with something along the lines of, “Yep. We have power. I heard the sirens in the middle of the night. If it was a transformer I’m sure they’re working on getting the electricity back up.” We hung up, and I went about my day like normal.

On Monday morning I saw a picture that a friend posted along with a caption about still being in disbelief, and shock. That’s when I recognized the person in the picture with her. I blinked. I scrolled further down my feed, and there was someone else talking about tragedy. I blinked. Further down there was a post from the local gym sending condolences to the family of some name that sounded familiar. What happened? Then there was the scanner page with a notice about a structure fire in our little town. At the very bottom of the post it read: ONE FATALITY RESULTING FROM THIS FIRE. There was a picture of a building that was charred on one side, and right next to it was what remained of a house. A house I knew I had driven by countless times. A house I once marked as my half way point during my runs. A house that I can now only picture as the rubble and burned piles of wood from the pictures that were posted online Monday afternoon. And no matter how hard I blink I cannot remember what it looked like before.

The first time I ran into this person was at the gym. And I literally almost ran into him. I was coming out of the women’s bathroom as he was walking into the hallway, and I was so focused on getting my playlist to work that I wasn’t looking up. By the time I did look all I saw was a chest, and I quickly jumped back. “Whoa, my bad! I’m sorry.” I took a few more steps back as I slipped my earbuds in, and then awkwardly shuffled around him. I went about my workout, and left. Now, I don't know if you know, but you can learn a lot about someone while your at the gym. And in case you haven't figured it out yet I’m not a hugely social person. So, my gym time consisted of listening to music while people watching in order to get through my workouts. And as the weeks went by I found it really interesting to see how people gravitated towards him when he’d show up. He was always focused, but if anyone came up to talk with him he would always smile. When he talked people listened, and when he was on his way out of the gym he always made sure to say "bye", and wave at everyone he knew. So, from that day forward he was “that happy gym guy” to me.

After that, I saw him around town a lot. And y’all, his face was not one that you would easily forget. He was handsome, but sometimes I wondered if he even knew it? I’d see him at the grocery store, and at Walgreen's. I’d catch glimpses of him as he drove down the road with his dogs. And just a few weeks ago, I had been sick making a last minute run to Dollar General to grab some medicine. Emery made a break for it the minute we stepped inside; running from aisle to aisle. I was sneezing, a frazzled mess, and as I rounded the corner I almost ran right smack into him yet again. He had been pensively looking at the random wine selection when I almost fell backwards in order to avoid face planting into his shoulder. As I mumbled my “excuse me” he turned to the side and smiled. When I passed by him I could smell smoke, wood, and something earthy. And as weird as it may sound, I almost wanted to ask him if it was a cologne, or body spray. Once I had grabbed everything that I needed I made my way to the checkout line. He was already there, but when he saw me coming around he said “Hey, why don’t you go ahead of me?” I shook my head and told him it was okay, but he insisted. “No, go ahead,” he said as he stepped aside for me to pass. “Thank you,” I replied. And he just smiled.

That was the last time I saw him. As I did more digging, and clicked on various articles the realization that the name did in fact belong to the guy in the picture left my stomach in knots. Less than twenty-four hours later an obituary was posted, and it was confirmed. I felt sadness, shock, and disbelief. It kind of caught me off guard. I mean, I didn’t even actually know the guy. He wasn’t someone important to me, or even someone that I spoke to. And yet here I was wishing that I had a time machine to go back, and fix things. To stop it all from happening. You see it’s people like him, who go out of their way to make others feel important -- who are kind, and smile-- that I wish we had more of in this world. Now, I could be totally wrong, and he could have been a complete jerk. But from the way others, including people that I know for a fact would not associate themselves with assholes, speak of him I have a feeling that my assumptions are correct. That he may not have been a complete saint, but he was a pretty decent human being. And as strange as this whole thing may sound to you I’m really going to miss his presence in this town. I’m going to miss seeing him at the gym, and watching the younger girls trying to get his attention. I’m going to miss seeing him driving around with his pups, and awkwardly trying to avoid causing him bodily harm with my clumsiness. But I’m also sad for the future that’s been completely taken from him. Snuffed out; just like that. I’m sad for his son, who lost a father. For his siblings, and parents. I’m sad for his friends, whose lives were made better by his friendship. And I’m sad that whatever his plans may have been, whatever steps he was taking in order to achieve his goals, they will no longer be set into motion. I’m sad for the possibility of what could have been, for him.

Now, does all of this sound weird to y’all? My reaction. I know I probably sound completely off my rocker by talking about a stranger like this. But how interesting is it that we go through life, and have certain people who affect us in such different ways? Some we don’t even really know until they aren’t there anymore. How amazing is it that people we only have these tiny moments of interaction with can lift us up by just smiling? By making kind gestures. By acknowledging that we aren’t invisible. Even on the worst days. Sitting here my only regret is that I never reciprocated. I was always so caught up with my life, my drama, and my problems. I don’t remember ever smiling back. I don’t remember ever saying bye, or nodding. You know, "the gym nod" that gym people give each other as they leave. And maybe that’s not even something he ever gave a second thought about seeing as how I was no one to him. But it made me think that I must have come off as a snobby bitch. Then as I drove home I remembered an article I once read several years ago. It was about someone who suffered from depression, but they made it a priority to smile at others every day. They said it was because we never knew who was battling demons. Who was struggling to just exist that day. And for a long time I took what that article said to heart. So I tried to do that for others. I would smile at people, and try to pay it forward as often as I could. Somewhere along the way I guess I just...stopped. Maybe not completely, but I definitely didn’t do it as often. And now that this man is gone it’s bringing it all back up. Because whether he knew it or not, he left an impression on me. In my life, he was that guy in the article. The one who always smiled. And looking back on it now it means a lot that he did. The reality of him not being here to do that anymore is leaving me with this feeling of unease. Unsettled. So, I needed to talk about this. I needed to get this out. Because he was important. And just maybe it'll show you that even when you don't think your presence is wanted or needed...you're probably still very much important to someone out there.

Rest easy, Jeremy. 

Thank you for your light.
💙

To That One Dude

Last weekend when my family was down for a visit, a friend of my brothers came to spend the day with them. I’m sure he thought it was going to be a “him & them” situation, but it quickly turned into a “him & all of us” situation. Now, I only see this guy maybe once a year. And we basically get along by insulting each other until one party is leaving, and then it’s a wave goodbye followed by “See you around asshole.” -- His words. And that’s just how we roll. This time around was no different. And I'm actually pretty proud of how creative we are getting at our insult delivery. However, I’ll give credit where credit is due. And today, since I know he’ll never read this, I just wanted to say thanks.

It’s no secret that family life has not always been smooth sailing for us. This is why I’m happy to have so many strong, positive, people in my daughter’s life for the times that we fall short. It’s also no secret that sometimes our daughter is interested in things that we either hate, don’t always have time for, or have no knowledge of whatsoever. This is why I’m really grateful to have help. When Emery started showing interest in archery I was clueless. If I’m being honest, I still am. When she wanted to try her hand at it I was able to turn to my brother & sister-in-law for help in teaching her. When she wanted to learn, and play soccer my dad was able to spend some time teaching her what he knew. Now, he even plays against her when he gets off from work. When she wants to get all arts, and crafty my mom steps up to the plate with countless projects they can create. She also has a whole section of their house dedicated to that space for her. So, I’m pretty lucky, I know.

Now, what some people don’t know is that the past few weeks have been a little rough for us. And this past weekend we were finally able to take a step back, and just take a break. Enjoy family time. On Sunday however, once the sun started to go down, we were all a bit preoccupied with getting our family members ready for the road trip back home. And this friend, who had already been entertaining my daughter’s demands for thumb wars, and piggy back rides earlier that day at the flea market, stepped up without complaint. Now, it could be that he tolerated it all pretty well since he doesn't have to deal with it on a daily basis. Or maybe that's why my grandmother kept telling my daughter to quit pestering him? For fear that it would scare him away?  But, he went on every bicycle race that he was challenged to. He played catch wearing a kid sized glove, and chased after baseballs that went over the road or across the field. He played soccer, and “you can’t catch me”. Over, and over again. I mean, I won’t lie, there were instances where even I was thinking “Okay, now this is just getting annoying.” But he went along with it. And my daughter thought he was just the coolest kid ever.

So, thanks, jerk face. Thanks for hanging out, and playing games with my seven-year-old. Thanks for not complaining when she got really annoying, and almost choked you out as you let her climb onto your shoulders for the third time in a row. Thanks for teaching her how to throw a baseball, and hold her glove so she wouldn’t get hit in the face. Though if you had let that happen, your torture would have been over much sooner...just saying. Thanks for keeping her entertained so my dad, and brother could work on the truck. And, thanks for playing some weird version of soccer/kickball with her while I was getting my last little bit of snuggle time in with my nephew. But mostly, thanks for just giving her some of your time. I’m sure it wasn’t how you had hoped your day would go, and I’m sure there were other things you would have rather been doing. But to her, it meant a lot that you paid attention. So…thank you.

Now, in the slight chance that you ever come across this post: This…changes nothing, and even though I appreciate your kindness to her you’re still kind of a dick. And the next time you over estimate my age by ten years, make fun of the gray hair coming in, point out a new forehead wrinkle, or critique my “elbow game” while eating pizza I will throat punch you. Comprendes? Okay, good.  

"Sobriety"

Today I wanted to talk a bit about my recent decision to quit consuming alcohol. Back in October, the weekend before my birthday to be exact, my husband and I got into a huge fight. It was ugly. That night I had had two small bottles of wine, a few shots of vodka, and a six pack all to myself. Then something was said, and it's like every little thing I had locked away was unleashed. I said whatever came to mind without really thinking about how my words were coming out. I became violent, and I just remember thinking that I wanted to scrub every damn surface of the house. Odd, right? Well in my mind, every single thing in that house had been a witness to all of the ugly lies. Every damn thing that had happened hit me full force, and I was fucking angry. The aftermath of that night left me embarrassed, and shocked. Here I was, almost thirty years old and still acting like a damn fool.  

So, on my birthday I had a shot of whiskey with my coworkers, and I let them know it would be awhile before I took part in another "shots Friday". With the exception of having some homemade liquor to try around Christmas, and then a glass of wine on New Years Eve, I haven't had anymore alcohol. I'm not an alcoholic, at least I don't think so, and according to the definition I don't fall under that label. In fact, it was quite the opposite. I don't feel like I need to drink, or that I'm missing out. I didn't drink very often before because I honestly didn't have the time. Nor the money. If I were to drink it was only on nights that my daughter was staying with my parent's, which wasn't often. And maybe once every few weeks I'd indulge in a glass of wine while cooking. That sounds pretty normal right? The thing is that on the nights when I knew that I didn't have to worry about driving anywhere, or when I knew my daughter was safely in bed at my parent's house I made sure that I had enough to get myself hammered if we were going to be drinking. Call it a byproduct of the "go big or go home" generation. On those nights I was hell bent on drinking and dancing in my living room until I couldn't anymore.

What I didn't really realize until that one night was just how mean alcohol made me. How I would say things, hurtful things, just because. Sure I'd have fun for awhile, but then my mood would shift as I started to do that "drunk deep thinking". Or more recently, when my husband would say something, or play a song that would trigger my anger. And that was another thing...it only happened when I was with him. I could drink with friends, and be the happy, giggly, drunk woman who just wanted to dance and eat food all night. But something about drinking while in my husband's company, or right along with him always changed my demeanor. It was starting to become toxic, and quickly getting worse. On that night I remember being slumped on the floor, sobbing, and trying to scrub the floor while apologizing for my existence. 

The next day I spoke with a counselor. I had my ass handed to me. I was told I needed to grow up, and to stop letting myself become a victim. Thousands of women have been in my shoes, some worse off, and even though it was a really shitty thing to go through I needed to face it like the adult that I was. And so I walked out of that office knowing that I couldn't let myself get like that again. If I had gone through that night with a sober mind it would have been different. My temper wouldn't have gotten the best of me. I would have said things in a calm manner, and with more thought behind them. I would have known when to stop pushing. And that's what I wanted. To be calm; to have peace. I wasn't going to get anywhere with all of the anger. So, I knew that I had to give it up. It wasn't something hard for me to do. I drained the remaining wine I had, and put all of my wine glasses away. I didn't look back, and I don't regret it. Sure maybe one day I'll have a few beers, or some wine but right now I'm enjoying how clear my mind is about everything. How I can have  a discussion, or talk about how I'm feeling without anything clouding it. What I'm feeling is all me, and it's not being intensified or heightened by a buzz. So for now, a life without alcohol, is what's best for me. And I'm loving every minute of it. 

Goodbyes

Today your family has to let you go. Gigi told me what you did before Thanksgiving. I hope you know that we're all proud of you. And I'm still praying that when it comes time that you'll breathe on your own. I believe in miracles, and I know God can do big things. But if you can't...it's okay. If you don't want to come back...that's okay too. You're going to be missed, James. I understand how big of a pull that better place probably is though. That peace. I also know that sometimes we don't get what we want in life. No matter how hard we pray for it. Maybe we're being selfish with our request? Maybe this decision isn't up to you? I guess I'm just really grateful for the time we did get with you. I wish it had been longer. I know about the struggles, and I know that life wasn't easy for you. But I'll always remember you as the surfer kid who smirked before giving that full blown smile, and had such a silly sense of humor. As the guy who wanted to change his life for the better, and was so close to getting on that path. So whatever happens, rest easy. We love you, and we carry you in our hearts. 

Always. 💕

James

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.

To The Troll

My previous post was an update. When I spend a lot of time away from writing on this blog that's what I do. I take everything that has happened, and try to condense it into one summarized post. There are no dates, or actual timeline for those who read to actually know the minute or day that things happened. And even though YOU (you know who you are) don't really deserve any type of explanation or response, I feel up to giving you one anyway. Because fuck it. I've addressed you via text and over social media, and yet you still choose to hide behind other accounts. And worse, you try to create more drama by trying to go around me. 

This is a message that I received last night. Along with the same person trying to create drama by addressing my estranged husband over social media. But before I address that, here's a bit of history for you, that is extremely personal: My husband pursued another relationship while we were living separately. I won't get into the dirty details, but I'm sure from the previous posts many had already guessed that. I spoke with a lawyer, he spoke with a lawyer, and things got pretty nasty. I had papers drawn up in JANUARY, and we had agreed to file for a divorce at the beginning of FEBRUARY. At this point from the suggestion of a counselor, my doctor, my family, and even some coworkers I was encouraged to start "getting back out there". Reconnect with some old  friends. Go out on a date. Start doing things that I wanted to do. And so I started to do just that. Only, as that was all unfolding for me my husband spiraled out of control, and hit a wall full force. That's when he asked for help. And even though he was living with us we were in separate rooms, and he was still talking to someone else. For the sake of our daughter we wanted to remain amicable going forward.

So, with that in mind I actually reconnected with several old friends. I spoke with one of my best friends, and was informed that I should reconnect with a mutual friend of ours because he had just gotten out of a relationship as well. I was told that we should talk because we were going through very similar situations. So, I got in contact and we talked. Initially it was just a lot of catching up. Comparing notes, who got dealt the worse hand. Then there was flirting later on from both sides, and communication became more frequent. However, that's as far as things ever went. I wasn't ready to actually date anyone. According to him, neither was he. By law I am still married, and I wouldn't bring someone else into the picture until I was divorced. Any person going through this knows that it's nice to be complimented. To be hit on. Especially when you've heard some pretty ugly things about yourself that came from someone you thought you would be with for the rest of your life. When that person walks out, tells you that they might prefer someone else, it really does a number on you. And so, dipping my toes so to speak, into putting myself back out there was a baby step for me. I didn't have any expectations, and for the most part it was just really nice to have someone to talk to that knew what I was going through. The confusion; the hesitation. The heartbreak, the anger, and the loss. Sometimes when I felt like I was so deserving of what I was going through, what had happened, I was reminded that I was worth more. No one deserved that kind of treatment. That alone got me through some rough days, and anxiety attacks. Maybe I should have waited longer? Maybe I should have set boundaries? Maybe I should have done a little more homework on who I was talking to? From where I was standing though, my marriage was over and that had been stressed to me on several occasions by my own spouse, so I was doing my best to move forward. And if you're wanting to judge me for that, go for it. Your opinion of me doesn't matter because you're not important to me.

Last MONDAY, my husband randomly asked if there was hope for us. If there was any chance of us trying to make things work. Or had he pushed things too far? I informed him that he had pushed things too far. That I wasn't sure we could ever work things out because the trust was gone. He was still speaking to other people, and I had seen the messages to prove it. So unless that changed, I didn't see a point in us dragging things out. I wanted us to both be happy even if that meant we would no longer be together. He asked if I wanted to see other people? "Maybe" was my response, "But I won't date anyone until the divorce is started." Then on THURSDAY, he did something really reckless. He hit the absolute lowest point that he could, and those actions that he took shook me. We had to have an emergency meeting with two doctors, as well as three counseling sessions. We've both gone in this week, and will be doing more "group" (he and I together) sessions today as well as tomorrow. We've talked to the counselor about needing to find goals, about whether we need to table the divorce for now, can things work out if we both get to a good place, and how each of us feels about getting to a better place regardless so that what happened on Thursday does not happen again. So for now, as of THIS MONDAY, we've both agreed to put things on hold. The papers have been shelved, and we will see where the next few months take us.

SO THAT'S WHERE I AM, CURRENTLY. However, last WEDNESDAY, I received some messages from that friend's ex girlfriend. Or as she claimed, still current girlfriend, and had been the whole time. Which was news to me. That same night I received messages from him as well as one of his friends, stating that the "crazy ex girlfriend" had stolen his phone, and to disregard anything that came from that number. Instead I went ahead, and addressed both of them. Because the last thing I need in my life right now is more drama. He needed to figure his shit out with her, and I wished him luck. If she was mad about the flirting then she needed to take things up with him. Because from what he had told me, and others, he was not with anyone so he could do as he pleased. And I was definitely the least of her problems. I washed my hands of the situation, stopped responding, and moved on to more important things because the following day was one of the scariest I had ever been through.

Then last night, my husband received a message via Facebook, and I received the one above. So it seems this person is still mad, still trying to retaliate, and still wanting to stir things up. Here is my response to YOU: 

If there's something you want to talk about or need addressed, do so with me. You have my number. Do not be a coward, and hide behind different screen names so you can try to bring other people into the drama. My estranged husband and I are currently going through our own private situation that I really didn't need to explain to YOU, but since you clearly want to know/get into my business; THERE YOU GO. Even that brief glimpse above doesn't even begin to cover the extent of what we are going through so do not try to pretend like you know anything about my life. You have some serious issues you need to work through, and I suggest you do that with your ex or current boyfriend or whatever it is that you two are. Along with a really good counselor because you obviously need it. Your situation has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with you two so maybe you should focus on that. If it is true that you were still together then know that it was never my intention to be talking to someone who was in a relationship because that happened to me, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone. So how about you deal with all of those that stated you two were not together, including him personally, instead of trying to repeatedly attack me. I hope you two figure out whatever it is that you are or are not, and I hope that it's resolved soon. However, if the harassment continues, I will seek out a more permanent and legal way to remove you from my life.

Now swerve on. 

Japan is Calling

On July 24th, I said farewell to one of my best friends. She boarded a plane for Tokyo, yet again, on July 27th.  Except this time she won't be gone for just the summer. She'll be gone a whole year teaching English to kids in Japan! Once school is over she'll be asked if she'd like to stay on for another year, but she told us she didn't think she would. As lucky as those people are to have someone like Olivia working for them, I hope she doesn't change her mind! I hope she comes back to us next year because she will be missed!  So here's to you Miss Olivia! Good luck this year, and I hope you have a wonderful time while in Japan! I'm so excited that you are out there living your dreams and achieving your goals. You're a wonderful person, the sister I never had, and you deserve all of the wonderful things headed your way! Thank you for being a shoulder to lean on, a great listener, and one of my best friends . You have no idea how much I appreciate you being in my life and my daughters. We couldn't have picked a better god mother for her. This year won't be the same without you, but live it up girl! We miss you and love you very much! Can't wait till you get home next summer! And yes, that's definitely me hinting at you to just stay for a year. Pretty please? :)

Two

Today, my daughter turns TWO. 

At 3pm. 

I'm taking a few hours to process this. 

Fortunately, I wrote a letter in advance yesterday. 

Dear Emery,

Well, look how fast time slipped by, baby girl. Today you’re turning two! People are always telling me to “not blink”, or I’ll miss something and regret it. Well, today, I’m realizing just what they mean by this. Where did this past year go, mija? One minute you were taking your first steps and the next you’re wanting to pick out your own clothes for the day. We went from baby babble, to full sentences in the blink of an eye. And as I type this, I’m trying to recall every single second of the past year that I can possibly remember. I wish there was a way to go back and watch our lives like you would a movie. Because I don’t want to forget a single moment.

You've taught me so much these past two years, Em. You’ve taught me unconditional love, and patience. How to enjoy the simple things, and moments. I’ve learned to see things in such a different light, all thanks to you. I’m a better person because of you. I’ll never let that go.

So Happy Birthday, baby girl!

We love you very much!

p.s. I apologize in advance 

for sticking a camera in your face, 

pretty much all day tomorrow. :)

Dear Lisa

Last week, the internet was buzzing about this girl named Lisa Khoury, who wrote a column about her opinion on women with tattoos. I have links to her original article, and her most recent "apology" in the post below. Her opinion was not very well liked, and she received a huge backlash for her opinion. This is my letter to her. One I doubt she will ever read, but I felt the need to write it anyway. 

Dear Lisa,

I didn’t respond to your first column because in all honesty I thought it was stupid. I understand that it was supposed to be an “opinion piece”. But you didn’t choose your words very wisely, and whether you meant it or not, you came off as close minded, sexist, and yes, stupid for talking about something that you clearly had no clue about.

“An elegant woman does not vandalize the temple she has been blessed with as her body. She appreciates it. She flaunts it. She's not happy with it? She goes to the gym. She dresses it up in lavish, fun, trendy clothes, enjoying trips to the mall with her girlfriends. She accentuates her legs with high heels. She gets her nails done. She enjoys the finer things in life, all with the body she was blessed with.But marking it up with ink? That's just not necessary.

I'm not here to say a girl should walk around flaunting her body like it's her job – that's just degrading. Instead of getting a tattoo, a more productive use of your time would be improving and appreciating the body you have been given, not permanently engraving it.Can you get meaning out of a tattoo? Arguably. If you want to insert ink into your skin as a symbol for something greater than yourself, then maybe you are proving a point to yourself or the rest of the world.

But at the end of the day, are you really a happier person? Has this tattoo, for instance, caused you to learn something new about yourself? Has it challenged you? Has it led you to self-growth? Nothing comes out of getting a tattoo. You get a tattoo, and that's it. You do something productive, though, and you see results. That's a genuine, satisfying change in life. Not ink.

Invest your time, money, and effort into a gym membership, or yoga classes, or new clothes, or experimenting with different hairstyles if you're craving something new with your body, not a tattoo.”

The above paragraphs are not taken out of context. 

I just copied and pasted your own words. 

First, let me just say that I’m a mother of one, married to a great man (who also has tattoos), currently attending college, and I work at a great small business that sells pumps for oil rigs within the U.S. and internationally. I don’t always have the money to “enjoy the finer things”, but hey, that’s okay. My family is taken care of, and I’m proud of that. I don’t feel the need to “flaunt” my body in any way or to anyone who isn’t my husband, because how is that going to make me happier? I’m seriously not that vain. So what if someone thought I was pretty? What does that have to do with my personality? Clearly, from my pictures,  I'm not a big fan of “trendy clothes”- I’m more of a jeans and t-shirt type of girl. This isn't saying that I can't look "presentable" because sure it's nice to dress up. If it were up to me though, I'd choose comfort over anything. Oh well! I don’t seek out anyone’s approval, and I sure as heck don’t care about what someone’s opinion of me is. I am who I am, the way that I am, and people can take it or leave it.  

Also, Lisa, beauty is not what’s on the outside, although there are some mighty fine looking people out there. Still, you can have the prettiest, tattoo-less, accomplished woman, who is the biggest bitch in the world. And just because she spent her money on yoga classes, trendy clothes, and lost weight doesn't mean that she’s above everyone else. None of those things will mean a damn thing to people who surround her (or lack thereof). So what does she end up having? How did any of the things you listed help her out in any way? This is where that saying of “don’t judge a book by its cover” comes into play. If you really believe that appearances are everything, then dear you have a lot to learn.

I currently have two tattoos, but plan to get more. Why? Because I really, truly love them. So to me, yes it is very much necessary. Both of my tattoos mean something to me, and any that I get in the future will do the same. My first tattoo is of a band that I have always LOVED, and their music really brought me out of a rough time in my life. Without their music, who knows where I’d be? And my second tattoo are the words “California Dreamin” which I got in honor of a place that helped me grow up, and also a song that my mother used to play on Sunday mornings by a group that she liked. And do you know what happens when I see my tattoos, still to this day? I smile. They both remind me of happiness and  of wonderful places in my life. So in my particular case, I do get something out of it.

That last part that I quoted from your column is like the icing on the cake though. You may want to invest in all of those things to make you feel better, but that doesn’t mean everyone else does. And quite frankly, you come off as if you’re trying to tell people that all of those things are so much more important. But they aren’t. We, individually, define what's important and special to ourselves so it’s really not up to you. Yes, you can have an opinion about it. Yes, you can find those things to be more meaningful to you. But you should have stated that right off the bat. And you should have made it clear that these were your own personal choices, and that they were not meant to be for everyone else. Instead you came off as if you were belittling women, and sending us back a few centuries.

But, here’s the thing, some people like tattoos and others don’t. I get that. I also understand that, unless you’re 100% sure about what you’re getting, maybe you should hold off on the decision. Unless you're the type that likes to be spontaneous, and really don’t care, then props to you! And Lisa,you may have not intended to hurt anyone’s feelings or “attack” a certain subculture, but you did. I personally could care less what your thoughts on me, as a woman, that has tattoos are. I understand that they aren’t for everyone. But to call women in general (not once did you say anything about men) who have/want/like tattoos “classless”. Well, what did you expect would happen? People would commend you? They’d praise you for your amazing insight, and shower you with lovely comments about how you totally opened their minds? Of course not! You picked a bone, and now you have to deal with the consequences. 

This was bound to cause some kind of a ripple, and if the column you posted is really how you feel, don’t apologize for it. That to me is just cowardly. Own up to it, and take the heat. Not everyone is going to like what you have to say; just like I’m sure you don’t like what everyone else has to say. That's life, dear. But, I do hope that you really did learn a lesson. I hope that this has opened your mind, even just a little bit, to how different people are. I hope that you were exposed to some beautiful, gorgeous, strong, and wonderful women who have tattoos. And next time you decided to write an opinion piece, maybe you should look at both angles, before choosing a topic and throwing things out there?  

A Not So Wordless Wednesday

Dear Seth,

It’s been a year my friend. Time has gone by too fast. I know you and I weren’t BFF’s or anything but a lot of the stuff you told me when we hung out has stayed with me. So guess what?! I’m actually going to school now! I signed up for classes yesterday. I’m finally getting myself educated. Throw some of your smarts my way, ok? I’d really appreciate it. 

Did you know that sometimes, I have to tell myself that you're not here anymore? I’ll walk right into H-E-B expecting you to be there. I’ll see a nice black car sitting in front of Hasting’s and I swear it’s yours. Sometimes I even “see” you in someone else. I have to do those embarrassing “double takes” and I bet those guys think I’m weird. Then, I have days where I’m just driving along and all of a sudden it just hits me, “Seth’s not here.” Right out of nowhere. BAM! Like a ton of bricks to the face. On those days I can’t really shake the sadness. 

I get mad at you sometimes. But you probably already know that. I’m sorry about this. But you probably already know that too. I really wish that things had been different. I wish that you hadn’t been in that car. That you would have been safer. I really wish you would have been able to come home for that visit. But I can’t really dwell on that. Nothing can bring you back no matter how much we all wish that you could. I know you’re in a good place now though. It’s definitely something to look forward to when our times come. I also know you’re watching over everyone you love. You’re giving them that extra push, that extra hug, and that wonderful smile. Lots of wonderful memories, and laughs. So in reality, you’ll never be gone, love.

But today is going to be a hard one for a lot of people. Your family is still hurting like it was just yesterday. So today, just please be with them. Let your sister know that it’s ok. And just give them all some kind of peace. It’s been a long, hard, painful year for them. We all miss you very much.

Love,

Raquel

Old Writtings- Baby Brother

Ok, so when I have these ideas for topics to write about, or if I randomly think of something I'd like to share on my blog I write it in my email and save the draft. Well, some of those posts sometimes end up staying there. So today, I was cleaning out some of those posts when I came across one that I did about my brother! It was on 12/15/2010, and I decided to post it on here because I truly love my little brother. He's awesome, even when I'm wanting to beat the everliving crap out of him!! LOL! And here it is:

I have a fear of losing my brother.

Emotionally

Ever since we were kids, I looked after my BABY brother. I beat kids up for him. I taught him how to pick his outfits, and what badass music was. I did his hair for school, and I even played “pretend war” with him. I packed his backpack every night, read him books, and helped him with homework. My pride and joy; being the protector. The caregiver. The big sister.

Then we got older and overnight he was taller than me, handling his own battles, doing his own hair, choosing his own clothes, and no longer playing “pretend war”. But we got along, and our interests kept us close. People actually thought that because we got along so well, that our relationship was more than brotherly/sisterly. That boiled our blood. (We called people out on it, but no one ever owned up to starting the rumor.) But we were raised to love each other. We always hugged! And if we fought we had to hug and kiss each other's backs (that happened only once). So we felt that just because everyone else didn’t get along with their own family, that didn’t mean we had to be the same way with ours. Then, I started partying/drinking and it seemed like the roles switched. All of a sudden he was taking care of me! He was making sure no one took advantage of me, threatening anyone who even THOUGHT of hurting me, and driving my drunk ass home. He saved me, from me. But not once did he tell me that he was the “big brother”. He let me think that all of the ideas were mine. Not once told me I was wrong.

Next, I moved away to California. And I spoke to him pretty much EVERY day. He had shaved his head, grown a beard, and was dressing the exact opposite of how he had been when I was at home. He was living his own life. Making his own decisions, and doing his own thing. BUT he was still the same funny, down to earth, anime watching, loveable, and carrying BABY brother. I could totally add to that list of attributes because trust me it goes on and on, but you guys would fall in love and he’s already taken. Sorry! But anywho, he had changed and was now on his way to becoming his own person. On his path to becoming a man.

Now, I’m back home and my brother is living BETWEEN homes. Sometimes he stays with us, and others (most of the time) he stays with his girlfriend. –Ahem- Kim, you bee-otch, BRING HIM BACK!! Or at least make him come visit during the week, GEES! Now, back to my point- He’s always close by, but recently, I haven’t gotten to see him as often. The little twirp never comes by (only on weekends)!! And my role as the big sister is FADING....fast! Actually, I think it’s pretty much gone he just lets me THINK that it’s still there.... sometimes... when he’s feeling generous. Maybe. 

So, I feel as if we’ve grown apart. Like we are really, officially, our own people. That sibling empathy and that bond we had defended constantly seems to have faded. We used to do everything together! Movies, going out to eat, hanging out at Hastings or Wal-Mart! Even just being at home listening to records (yes, vinyl records) while laying on the living room floor talking. I know that we are growing up and starting our lives, but some part of me can’t help but feel as if this is our OWN fault. We could be just as close as ever if we took the time. We could still have that psychic “I know what independent film you want to watch without you saying a word” ability. But, we are now our own people, with our own lives, and we don’t set aside time to keep those “traditions” alive. We don’t seem to have the time these days. And now that my brother is finally a man, with his own future wife, there is no need for that bond we had, because he gets THAT and more from her. And that’s OK! I get the same from my husband. But, I still miss him. I miss my baby brother. I miss our friendship.

Physically

I remember the day that Niselda, my cousin, died. I felt as if my heart had been ripped out and my throat had closed. My heart was broken and I was no longer breathing. I cried for months; still do sometimes. But, I couldn’t possibly imagine what Nasalia, her sister, felt. That hurt and sorrow. That anger, and that despair. That light being taken, and replaced with a huge hole. A hole that could never be filled. I could imagine these things, but only if I had gone through it myself could I ever truly comprehend those feelings.

Lately, I’ve been having dreams of my brother dying. Two dreams every week, for the past 6 weeks, each one different than the one before. I’ve chalked it up to them being about my fear of losing this bond that we have. But the dreams are still, VERY real. And each time, I wake up feeling as if he’s really gone. I literally have to convince myself that it was a dream. Talk myself back to reality, if you will. And it hurts. Those feeling of helplessness, excruciating pain, and loneliness that hit me all at once, as soon as I open my eyes, is so real. I’ve woken up a few times crying. That weight and dread coming off my heart as soon as I realize it WAS just a dream, is such an indescribable kind of happiness and relief. I don’t know what I would do if I ever lost him..? I don’t know how I’d function, or how I could ever get that “light” back into my heart. My brother is my rock. The one who can smack me back into reality. The one who can straight up tell me when I’m being an idiot, and it be ok. He’s been one of my best friends. Sometimes, I look up to him.    

I can’t imagine my life without my brother in it. I can’t see us not each having a couple of children and watching them grow up together. Us arguing over who’s got more grey hair. Having family gatherings. Still fighting over Alien vs. Predator (Alien won, for sure!). I just can’t see him not being here. So, as you can imagine these dreams have been freaking me out! And I’ve felt fear. I almost want to pick up the phone and call him each time I wake up from these dreams just to make sure he’s ok. But, knowing him, he wouldn’t answer and I’d assume the worst and freak out. Not once considering the fact that it’s 2 o’ clock in the morning and he’s probably passed out, trying to get as much sleep as he can before having to wake up at 4:30. But then, if he did answer, and he found out the reason for my calling, oh man I’d get it. LOL! Not right away, but later that day, I’d get a “Psht, THAT’S why you called me? Because of a dream? You woke me up from my deep, much needed, slumber BECAUSE OF A DREAM?!?! RAQUEL!!! What the crap?!?! I’m not answering the phone at that hour again!” So I don’t even attempt those phone calls. I know better.

I know that we all die. It’s inevitable. But being taken too soon is something that always gets to me. And I pray every night for my family’s protection. Because I have that fear. Like I stated in my previous post, I’m afraid of not being vigilant enough with my daughter. And that, that mistake might one day cost me. I’m constantly afraid of my husband up and leaving me. Afraid that one day (especially with OUR pasts) that someone might hurt him, or worse. But more on those topics at another time. I’m just scared. Again, I feel that these dreams are more like my minds reflection/interpretation of my fears. So, I’m trying to put it aside. The dreams still freak me out, and I guess they will continue until I settle this conflict within myself.

My baby brother is no longer a baby. He knows right from wrong (more so than I do). He can take care of himself. He can make his own decisions. He has and will live his own life. And I have to learn to let go.

I'm glad to report that Kim did bring him back, lol! We do get to see each other a lot more. The dreams have stopped, and I have let go! I'm good with knowing that we are going to take different paths in life and that we aren't children anymore. We are living our own lives, and no matter what we will always have those memories! Those times made us who we are today. It's something that we'll show our own kids. To love each other and never take each other for granted. Our bond will never be completely severed, it's just more of a "grown" bond. Beau can't take it away, and neither can Kim. But we each love our significant others more and differently, you know? It's our time to start on our own. I'm sure Kim can take care of him and protect him as well as I ever could, so I'm passing the torch on to her. 

So Kim, take care of him ok? And when he says his bones hurt, make him slow down and not push himself so much. Force him if you have to! LOL! Make sure he doesn't stay up too late either, because then he has a problem staying up during the day, and I know a few times that he's almost fallen asleep at the wheel! Bad, bad, bad! And just know that my brother loves you! We all love you (never doubt that), and I'm just waiting for the day that I get to go ring shopping with him!! LOL! But never feel bad for setting a bitch straight when she thinks she can get in the way of that, ok? You have my number if you need a truck and shovels. :-D 

Love, 

Your Future Sister-In-Law

Happy Birthday Melissa!!

I have had Melissa in my life since elementary school. We have had some great times, some drunk times, some angry (I hate you bitch) times. But we always ended up back “together”. Better friends than ever. We live in two completely different cities (and at one point states), but we always found time to catch up. Always found time to get together, have dinner or lunch, and just talk. She has been a rock for me during some of my roughest times, and someone that I could vent to when I wanted to strangle my husband. I wouldn’t trade any of our time together for the world. She’s one of my besties, and in so many ways a sister. I wasn’t able to get her card to her along with this letter by today, so I decided I’d post it, instead. Love you Mel, and I hope you have an awesome day!!

Melissa,

So, we are now 23 year olds. How the hell did that happen? Seriously, it seems like just yesterday we were 13, all bent out of shape over “boy” friend drama. –AKA- Which Ballard brother was worthy of our time. Trying to convince our parents to let us go to the Jr. High dance after the game! LOL! And it seems like just last night, we were drunk as hell trying to figure out what line we could pull on our parents (that wouldn’t give away our drunkenness) just so we could spend a few more hours at the 144.

–sigh-

Good times! But today, we are “grownups” (whatever the hell that means). And you are officially 23 (we’re getting old, bitch)!! But take a breath (a step back) and really look at us. Grown up and all. Sure, we didn’t turn out as we had planned (but honestly three husbands would have been A LOT of work), and we aren’t all rich and famous. But you’re still Melissa and I’m still Raquel. We’re still friends, despite all the distance and totally different lives! We STILL keep coming back and catching up; never forgetting each other. And deep down inside we’re still those two girls that had sleep over’s and stayed up talking about how hot JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE is was. And I wouldn’t want to share those memories with anyone else but you!  ((awwwwwww!! Yea, go ahead, you can say it))

Now, I’m married (DON’T DO IT!), with my own little monster that I will eventually have to worry about (ESPECIALLY if she’s anything like us), and barely trying to go back to school! And you are about to graduate, and start on your own career. You’ll probably meet a MAN (boy) that is finally just as crazy as you are, and you’ll get married (yeah, even after I warned you against it, lol!)! You’ll make babies and probably name one Jose or something really Mexican like that (jk!). And you’ll definitely wear the pants in the relationship. Yes, that will probably happen in the near future. But lets not rush it ok? Because like I said before, I am married, so I must live the single life vigorously through you!! So tonight, go get hammered and have wild crazy sex with a stranger! Call me in the morning and don’t leave out any of the details!! LOL! Hope you have a wonderful birthday!! I love you, my BFF. And here’s to many more birthdays to come!!  

Love, 

Raquel

p/s I know twenty three isn’t a number we were hoping to get to this quickly (like 21 was). But don’t get all down in the dumps. It could be a lot worse. You could look like Snooki, and that skag is ORANGE.