Tomorrow marks a year that a close friend left his human experience and is now onto his next one. He left too soon...for me. He was dark and twisted, wrapped up in an understanding that was joyful. He was the most loving angry friend I've ever experienced. He drank too much, and on purpose. He drank to forget, he might have drank to be able to remember, and he surely drank to die. I tried to be there for him at every turn. I failed him as his cries for help, in the form of cynicism and helplessness, repulsed me in a way that kept me from sharing in his pain.
I worked so hard to learn to heal, especially with empathy, compassion and interest. In this loving friendship I failed. I couldn't heal him. I couldn't endure the pain that tortured him. I hear his voice in my thoughts. I hope to never understand the pain that kept him from fulfilling his role as a dad, a husband, and a friend. I am writing selfish and raw because I miss him.
It would have been interesting to see him grow old. And maybe he did, spiritually. Learning to say goodbye is the horizon, but using hello is still happening too. This is why we have to live with the idea that "Life is Hard" Viviendo es duro! Loving is too.
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There is a part of the Chicano culture that is ruthless. Even the slightest social struggle creates opportunity for deviance. My family wa... -
Part 2 The darker aspects of my culture are simply expressions of communal pain. Without diving into excuses or reasons for class structure... -
Part 3 Where did the ability to self abuse originate? If I take a critical look at the people in my barrios that perpetrated on the home...