Emotional Days

I wrote this last Wednesday. It was a day after my sister's funeral and I was feeling a bunch of things. I wanted to let it out and to also chronicle what I was feeling at the time. This evening I looked it over and decided to share this with you.

So now I present "Emotional Days" 12-23-09 (originally written on 12-16-09):


I caught the bus and had less than 10 minutes to go until my stop. It was a stop I didn’t want to make but even if I didn’t jingle the cord and signal my forthcoming departure it would not matter. I could look out the window into the rainy night and watch that stop shrink into the distance but a family member would still be gone too soon and I would only have further to walk in the rain when I got off the bus.

When I made my way off I only had to walk a short block to the funeral home. When I thought about everything that awaited me in less than 5 minutes my eyes teared up a bit. Not only was I going to see someone I cared about in a way I didn’t want to see them, I was also going to see family who in some cases I hadn’t seen in over a decade. There was nervousness. There was sadness. There were tears. I thought of a famous Temptations song called “I Wish it Would Rain”. In the song David Ruffin sings how he wishes it would rain because the raindrops would hide his teardrops and no one would know he was crying. I thought about that song as the rain bounced off my face.

I composed myself as I hit the parking lot. I slowed down as I approached the building. I started to take deep breaths and I tried to relax the best I could considering everything that was going on in my mind. I wiped a combination of sweat and rain from my brow and walked inside. When I did I noticed a lot of people were there. I could feel beads of sweat starting to reform on my brow. My social anxiety was starting to appear a bit but this was bigger than me or my fears.

I sat down because sitting and being in one place absorbing the room makes me more comfortable in situations like these. By nature I’m a watcher and listener. At least that is when I am at my best. In those situations I am fairly calm and comfortable. When I am on my feet wandering about talking to various people I feel like I’m in a whirlwind. I don’t feel like I’m absorbing much because I feel like I’m caught in the rapids so to speak. Sometimes it’s fun to get out there, drift, say ridiculous things and be silly but in this situation my comfort levels, emotion and nervousness dictated that I find a place to sit and chill.

In only a minute of sitting there I began to see familiar faces. I’d stand up and hug a nephew, then another, then a niece, a brother, another brother, a sister and so it went. My fears and sadness over my sister’s passing faded just a bit and were replaced by warmth and love. Seeing a new person that I hadn’t seen in years brought a smile to my face each time. When a person came by and I looked at them and it registered and that moment came when I knew who it was I was tickled. There was so much warmth from everyone at such a cold moment in our lives. It was really touching.

When you really get the emotions going like that you can’t shut them off. You can’t say, oh okay this is over I’ll just start thinking about something else. So at the end of the viewing I didn’t want to go straight home. I couldn’t have gone straight home. I probably would have walked the neighborhood for an hour or two deep in thought, even on such a rainy night. I was thrilled when I was invited over to my brother’s house to hang out with the family.

When I arrived I was delighted to see so many of the more familiar faces I saw at the viewing. Plus there was delicious food and the Sabres were playing on my brother’s HDTV. I’ve hardly seen hockey on those televisions but when I do, what a treat! Between the game, the food and the catching up it strangely almost felt like a pleasant get together rather than a gathering for tragic reasons. Being around so many loved ones really helped to take some of the sting away. It wasn’t a thing that had any kind of staying power. It was a buzz and a happiness that would be gone a few hours later but that was no matter, for now I’d take it.

I caught a ride home and looked at the clock. It was after midnight. I had to get up at 7:30 to insure I’d be able to catch the 25 and make it down for the service by 9am. Now because I walked in a little after midnight it didn’t mean I could get to sleep right away. I was all wound up with emotions, good and bad and there was no way I could close my eyes and sleep at that point. I found a photo album and in there I had a few old pictures from the late 70’s when I was a wee lad. A couple photos were from Thanksgiving in 1979 and in them was nearly everyone in the family. My mom and dad were there. My niece, 2 sisters and at least 3 brothers were in the pictures. It was nearly everyone. As I looked upon those pictures I thought for a while about my sister who passed and I remembered as many things about her as I could.

Before I knew it, it was getting towards 2am. I was getting sleepy but I’m always someone who has trouble getting up when there is not at least 7 hours to sleep. Don’t get me wrong, most times I’d like to get up but often I will turn the alarm off and tell myself that I will rest for a few more minutes and then wake up an hour later. I would never forgive myself if such a thing happened on this morning so I set my alarm, then the alarm on my phone and then I set my television to turn on a minute after the phone went off. I thought that if the stress and anxiety alone didn't do the trick 3 alarms would surely be enough to get me up and active when I needed to be.

When morning came I woke up without a hitch despite getting only 5 hours of sleep. I rolled over and looked at the clock and saw that I woke up 10 minutes before the alarm was to go off. I shut off the alarm but then not to outsmart myself I got up and starting wandering around the apartment to ensure fully awake status. If I had shut off the alarm and then stayed in bed I might have fallen back asleep with only 2 secondary alarms left to wake me. I couldn’t take the chance.

Everything worked out and once again I was on the bus ride to the place. I felt a good deal of sadness but I kept thinking about those closest to her. Those people who would see her everyday and interact with her all the time. I thought about those who would miss her most of all. Needless to say, everyone there would be sad. Everyone there would be hurting but my heart went out to those who would hurt most.

When my father died I remember being at the funeral and seeing a great deal of people. I wondered who some of them were but in my grief I didn’t get around to talking to too many of them. In hindsight I wished I did. Since my dad was such a quiet man there were a lot of things I didn’t know about him, especially from the times when he was younger or before he met my mom. He would often tell Army stories when he was drunk but that was about it. He really kept to himself, even with family. So when I look back on it I wished I had heard more stories and met more people who knew him but when you are overcome with grief, anger, shock and you have other family to care about like my mom who was a wreck, it’s hard for the mind to overcome the emotion of the moment. I wondered if it would be this way for some of my relatives at this service.

I got off the bus at the same stop as before. Even though I visited this place the night before and the temperature was far lower then, I felt colder. I felt the chill of a final goodbye in my bones.

I made sure to arrive early to find a seat for the service and relax as best I could before the vast majority of people would arrive so I wouldn’t have to deal with my social anxiety. There weren’t too many people there when I walked in. I saw some relatives walking about with these blank expressions on their faces. I could only think they were deep in thought, memory, or maybe suppressing emotions or thinking about someone who wasn’t. I could feel the pain in the room and it was the first moment of many when my eyes watered and I felt the dull ache of loss.

I found a comfortable chair in close to the front but not too close. I sat down and occasionally I looked at the casket. I’m not someone who likes to look at those things. In fact I never approached it on either day. I can’t stand to see someone that way. After my dad’s viewing and funeral, that was it. I’m far too emotional and sensitive. I fear that my system could overload as it almost has on a few occasions and that is a scary feeling.

I was instead sitting 25 feet away still feeling the sorrow. I’d be okay one minute and watering up the next. When I’m in a group I tend to talk less than when I am with 1 or 2 people. I tend to fall back and become more sponge-like. I absorb whatever the feeling is around me and for the most part my sadness didn’t overcome me but whenever someone would lose it then the water in my eyes started to descend down my cheeks. It hurt me to see some in my family in so much pain. When they cried, I cried.

The range of emotion was heartbreaking. Some were incredibly sad, some angry, some temporarily distraught. My words really cannot do it justice. There was an invisible pendulum swinging throughout the ceremony. On one side there was the celebration of her life and joy for having known her, having been related to her and on the other hand was the sadness that came with the loss of her. I would smile, and then I would cry. The cycle was repeated throughout. It fills your heart and then tugs at it.

When it neared time to go I felt like I had let a lot out and had come to grips with what had occurred. I was at a loss at what to say to those who suffered the strongest. There are no words. All you can do is be there and hug someone if they needed to be hugged. Being there is the strongest statement that I could make.

In times of sadness sometimes we are privy to the kindness and generosity of others. This situation was no different. Many people I don’t even know donated food, time and other things to the family in their time of grief and this is admirable. After the funeral most of the mourners adjourned to a small reception at what I believe is called the Agustin “Pucho” Olivencia Community Center in downtown Buffalo near the ballpark. As I understand it the people there donated the space and food.

There were all kinds of snacks and some tasty food and sides to boot. I was in awe over the kindness that was showed. While there I was able to chat a little with family, pose for a few pictures and I even met a few people I had never met, or at least didn’t remember meeting when I was a kid.

One man I met was Rafael. He and his wife sat down at the table I was sitting at and I didn’t know who they were at first. Then someone came by and told him in Spanish that I was Ramon’s son. I was able to pick up bits and pieces of it even though they only spoke Spanish. Rafael was impressed with my size. My father was about 5’9” and maybe 130 pounds and me… well I’m a bit larger than that. :)

He called out to me in English and said “Hey, I knew your father”. This grabbed my attention immediately because as I mentioned earlier, there was much I didn’t know about him. He started to tell me about how he and my father used to drive back and forth between here and North Collins and he told me a little how they used to drink and have good times. I must have shaken his hand 3-4 times. I told him it was really a pleasure to meet him. Now that my father has been gone nearly 14 years I feel like the chances and opportunities to learn more about him are slipping away.

This reception felt like a celebration, not just of Wanda but of life and family. It’s kind of a sobering happiness. It’s a sunshine that comes after a storm, happiness that comes after pain and tragedy. I’m reminded that there is a bright side to everything; even the darkest of hours will give way to light once again. It’s not just a light but it’s a spark that occurs reminding us how precious life can be but also family.

Despite everything that has happened the past few days I am feeling okay. I have a lot of nice memories and a lot of respect for Wanda. I am very happy to have known her and to have called her sister. She made it through a lot of things that claimed lesser people and I cannot even fathom that kind of inner strength.

As the emotions have peaked and have slowly begun their descent back to normalcy my mind starts to weigh in and the feeling I have and the philosophical thought/debate going on inside reminds me of how I felt back when one of my brothers passed, when my father passed, my grandfather, and when my friend hung himself. It’s an inner debate that I cannot resolve especially at times like this. Do I cram as much life as I can into the moment or do I make every effort to extend my time on this earth? Is life so precious that I need to live it up or is life so precious that I need to be able to enjoy as much as possible which means making myself able to prolong it and have more of it to enjoy? In a crude way I am asking the age old question of quantity versus quality. One cannot help but to reflect on the meaning of life when they lose someone they cared for.

Getting back to it, now anyone with any measure of logic or wisdom would choose to live smartly and have as many good years as possible. Someone acting purely on emotion may choose to go bananas and live life to the hilt. What complicates what should be a black and white decision between two extremes is that there is a variable that I was reminded of this past week… you can go at any time.

It’s a scary scary thing to think about but it is true. With that in mind does it make you want to live like there’s no tomorrow? It’s tempting. Sometimes I think about saying screw it and getting a pizza, bucket of wings, cake, ice cream, 6-pack of sodas and eating until I pass out. Then when I wake up I’d go out and pick up a female and have a good time. Then I would spend beyond my means, think beyond my means and live beyond my means but feel incredibly alive. It would probably only last a short time. Would cramming all this life be the way to go? Perhaps it’s simply an illusion because I’m alive right now but I wonder if I could become more alive. Times like these when someone is taken from us too soon put these thoughts into my mind.

To be honest with you I live my life like it is a marathon. With the exception of my food weakness, I do everything slowly, carefully and with an obvious fear of my own mortality. I don’t want to go anywhere so you’ll never see me take big risks. I won’t drive a car 70 MPH. I won’t smoke. I won’t do drugs and I will rarely drink and when I do it’s going to be a moderate if not light amount. That’s me. I would like to be around to live, love and see the wonders of the future.

So maybe I’ve already answered whatever questions that are bouncing around in my mind. I suppose I’ve never left the path but of late it’s been hard to find my way during these emotional days.

Life is full of ups and downs (12-11-09)

When I first encountered the phrase “the roller coaster ride of life” I was afraid. First of all I am afraid of roller coasters so that phrase naturally had an uncomfortable feeling for me but when I really thought about it I didn’t like the idea of life moving so fast, going really high, then really low, side to side and for a loop. I don’t like to rush. I don’t like big loop de loops. I don’t like going 60 MPH in a car. That’s who I am. I’d rather avoid the twists and turns and live a life full of balance, loyalty, consistency and stability. I like to keep the surprises to a minimum but that’s not to say I won’t mix up things in daily life.

I’ll walk down a new street to get somewhere. I’ll be happy to try a new restaurant. I’ll impulse buy a t-shirt that I see online or at some little store. I’m not afraid of the kiddie coaster. Those are the kinds of twists and turns I like… little ones. I don’t know where my path leads but I cling to it and do everything I can to stay on it despite the allure that tempts me to leave it. I’m looking for comfort on my adventures if that makes sense.

As you might expect there are positives in living this way and there are some negatives too. You can decide what you think they are. I try not to get too high or too low but sometimes life knocks on your door and leaves a flaming bag of poop on your doorstep for you to stomp out. Other times it rings your doorbell and gives you flowers.

Ed note: At this point I was going to whine about the annoying parts of my day and rejoice in the beauty of the instant rebound. I was going to tell you about how my heater was not operational and how I was freezing this morning with my space heater keeping the apartment over 60 but not too comfy. I was going to add how I woke up late because I was hiding under the covers and disregarded time making me very late for work today.

I was going to continue with how listless I feel with my job and how I didn’t really care about being late because I knew the building was going to be freezing today. I took my time getting ready and I even stopped at the mini-mart on my walk into work to get cocoa because what’s a better partner to accompany me into a chilly place than a fistful of hot cocoa?

Unfortunately the mini-mart had a serious problem with their cash register. They had a modern computerized system that probably saved a ton of time and limited mistakes from what they must have had a decade earlier. Of course I tell you this because today is the day it comes crashing down. I’m standing there 3rd in line with a 24 oz. hot cocoa, an orange juice and a soda but I’m getting any closer because the register is freaking out. It won’t open, it won’t reset and it pretty much will not do anything.

A second worker arrives on the scene and offers advice and tries to help with the problem. It’s funny to me because everything he suggest the first guy already tried and he proceeds to swat the guy’s fingers away repeatedly… “I already tried that!” After about 5 minutes from the mini-mart comedy team the owner or at least the guy in charge arrives. Once again they attempt to do things that were already tried and sighs and the smacking of gums start to become more frequent. It almost became melodic. In fact in one space where it was really quiet I took a deep breath and sighed just to keep the music going.

Now I’m standing there for 15 minutes holding that cocoa and I won’t sip it because I haven’t paid for it yet but I have moved up to 2nd in line because one of the people in front of me gave up. Another pleaded with the cashiers by offering to give them extra cash for his coffee if he could leave but they wouldn’t allow it. After banging their heads against the wall for a while they basically treated the register like our internet connections. They unplugged it and then plugged it back in. It took a few more minutes but the register was fully operational once again. I got out of there after 15-20 minutes and realized I was incredibly late for work.

I was going to continue by telling you how I was feeling like poop for getting in so late and then right off the bat, before I can even take off my jacket someone mentions to me a problem that we had that I was responsible for. I don’t make many mistakes at work but if I do I get really angry with myself. I started to think this was the worst Friday in quite some time and it wasn’t even noon yet.

Not long after I arrived my cell phone rings and it’s a teacher friend of mine who was off of work again. He said, “Hey, you wanna get lunch over at India Gate?” At this point I had only been at work for a little over half an hour but the thought of yummy Indian food to break my mood was too tempting to refuse. I said yes and suddenly I was on my way to enjoy a nice lunch.

It was everything I hoped it would be. In the lunch buffet they had a chicken dish I like, some delicious squash and they even had strawberry mousse. I ate a nice amount and chatted with my friend about sports, life and the future. I went back to work with a smile on my face and Indian food smell absorbed into my clothes.

When I returned I discovered that an annoying task that would have been mine to do was given to someone else since I wasn’t around. My smile grew. Then I made a plan with a friend of mine to go out to see those Christmas movies next weekend I posted a few days ago. I finally got someone to come along! The day had made a 180 degree turn and suddenly everything was groovy and gravy, whichever one is better.

I was going to wax philosophical about the ups and downs of life and how the highest highs and lowest lows could happen in one single day. Then it happened…

At 3pm I went on my break and logged into facebook wondering what wacky things people were up to and then I see it. My nephew posted an RIP message about his Aunt. I scrolled down and then I saw what her daughter and my niece wrote. Then I reread it because sometimes we seem to think that if we reread bad news that it will be different that 2nd time. It wasn’t and this is how I found out that one of my older sisters was gone.

I started tearing up for many reasons. I had many good memories of her and I always looked upon her favorably. Unfortunately I hadn’t seen her in over a decade and I started to feel anger with myself over that. There was never any problems or anything like that, it was just after our father died in 1996 I went into a shell that I have not really come out of. Ever since our father passed I’ve dealt with deep personal things by not dealing. I’ve battled depression and stress. These were probably things that I should have shared with and battled with the rest of the family but I’m an idiot sometimes. The point is that I haven’t seen her in long time and I feel awful for it now that she’s gone. I hope she’s in a better place and is no longer in pain or suffering in any way.

Things like this happen and all my little troubles and games that I play with myself pale in comparison.

One of the things I learned about my father passing was that it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to let those things out. It’s important to let those things out. It’s important to let those things out with friends and family and it wasn’t a lesson I learned right away. It took many years after his death for me to learn that because I held everything in. For so long I carried the weight. I carried resentment, fear, anger and so many other things that aren’t healthy companions on my life’s path. I almost turned to the dark side.

When my friend committed suicide in 2003 I cried for days. I cried through the ceremony, and I hugged everyone I could. Afterwards we sat around and talked and talked and everything came out. While it ended up being a cathartic and positive experience it’s not a ride I ever wanted to take again. Now I realize that it is inevitable.

So how do I feel? How I feel right now is a combination of sadness and joy. I feel obvious sadness for someone who I knew, who I spent time with, who is family, who I cared about, who meant a great deal to others and who is now gone. On the other hand I want to feel an incredible joy for life because it has revealed itself to me yet again to be very precious indeed.

I want to hug all of my friends. I want to hug all of my family. I want to walk into the sunset with my eyes open and I want to walk into the moonlight with my eyes closed. I want to sit at the head of a table holding the most magnificent feast. I want to score a diving touchdown. I want to kiss a pretty female softly on the lips. I want to shovel my neighbor’s sidewalks and give ten dollar bills to those on the street digging through garbage cans for refundable recyclables. I want to dive headlong into a vat of milk chocolate. I want to read Christmas stories to little ones and listen to children explaining what they want for Christmas like Santa Claus. I want to surprise and provide. I want to compliment and reinforce. I want to give and share. I want to love and be loved. Most of all I want to live. RIP Wanda.