Final Last Call

The following story was requested.

“You say it’s easier to burn than it is to build. It’s easier to hurt than to heal. But I say you lose when you give up what you love…”

She wore a red chiffon dress. She was of fair skin, hazel eyes, and red lips. Her beauty was eminent in an effortless kind of way. Her long dark brown hair was playing with the breeze as she stood on the pier looking out at the horizon searching among the skies for a bit of strength and comfort. There was a sadness, melancholy, way about her. You could see it in her piercing eyes. Her very bruised and beaten heart was one that beat slowly. No amount of sunshine could take the cloud over her away.

She sighed deeply as the wind blew by reminding her of things she didn’t want to hear. He came up behind her and stood right next to her like he’d been there all along. They didn’t touch or speak for a while. The eerie silence between them could be broken any moment if they’d only let their souls say what they really meant to say all along.

But as she peered out to the world she simply said. “I’m leaving tomorrow.” He nodded in agreement like he’d known it all along. Then took her hand and faced her. She looked at him with the sweetest sadness in her eyes. As he rested her palm on his chest and held it there. It took everything in her to not fall apart as he said “You once asked me to please not break your heart. And I did. And I’m sorry. I made a mistake. And I lost you once, but if you go… I’ll lose you forever and forever… is a long time. What do I do? What can I say?”

She shook her head no from side to side. Put her hand to her mouth terrified she might blurt it out. And the tattered spirit of hers shook from head to toe. Her soul was screaming. He could see it in her eyes but it was too late. Too late to say I love you. Too late to say I’ve missed you. Too late to say I don’t want to live with out you. They were just words now, and the wind would blow them all away.

He took her in his arms and held her tight. She held on like her life depended on it. As a tear fell down as she let go. And she cried. Cried every tear she had left in her as he held her unable to speak. Sometimes, our vision only clears after our eyes are washed away with tears. And it was then she understood he’d always been the one for her. But he didn’t love her; his actions proved it so. And she couldn’t hold on to something that had never been truly hers.

They fought the battle against the past and the failure, against her missteps and the ghosts that followed her along for far too long. Every day was a challenge to not let the loss of them completely break her down. It took a while but she realized the only thing she held were fading memories and lost promises. And that was no way to live or to love. It was her final last call. So she chose to believe that far away, where her heart could be left alone, and her mind could lie in peace, is where she needed to venture off to.

It was too sad to think he’d never be hers and even sadder to realize she’d known it all the time. But there was no turning back for her. It was time to let him go. But it was excruciatingly heartbreaking because she knew a part of her would be in love with him for the rest of her life. But she’s resolute to leave this place where everything and everyone reminded her of him... Where the wind spoke his name. Where the rain just poured down. Where everything was a cold reminder of what she once believed she held and lost. S

he was worn out, and she knew there’d be nothing of her left if she remained in this place. This place that was determined to bind her with sorrow and regret, with the past, and with what never was and never would be. She needed a sun rise and not another sun set. No more goodbyes just more hello’s. She needed a fresh start, a change of scenery. She needed to find her lost soul. To mend her broken heart. She needed to forget the bitter taste of tears and recognize her own laughter once again. She needed to fight loneliness and regret. She needed to find some comfort and less distress.

Giving up on him was the hardest thing she’s ever had to do. But there is a beauty in walking away. After a heavy dark storm - the skies do clear, the sun does shine, a rainbow can appear and you are reminded that life goes on. And hope begins again.

“Oh babe.” He said trying once more to reel her in his ways and touch. "I love you Darling.” She whispered softly in his ears. “Love you more.” “Love you most.” she said as she kissed his cheek gently. Then stepped back and begin the bittersweet task of walking away for good.

She braced herself, wiped off her tears, breathed deeply, took the first steps and she never looked back. The next day, as the final last call was said overhead, she boarded the plane that would take her away.

She sat next to the window, stared out into the world as it took off. Her eyes followed the line that led her away from him. And she left. Left behind her past, left behind the pain, left behind lost wishes, shattered dreams, and worthless hope. And the scene ended and the saddest score was the bittersweet melody that played out as the sun set one last time… for them...

There are a few things sadder in life than watching someone walk away after they’ve left you… Watching the distance between your bodies expand until there is nothing left but empty space and silence.

If all the rain drops where lemon drops and gum drops

Outside the sun is shining, it’s a warm cozy afternoon. The wind is blowing the most perfect sounds of nature. The street is filled with people united by their location divided by their attention. I’m sitting in my front porch, with my legs stretched long in front of me, leaning back, resting on my palms. I’m looking at my niece play with our dog coco.

Coco seems tired and worn out and it only takes for my niece to pull his hair for him to get mad enough to try and bite her hand. And there at 6 o’clock in the afternoon, on a street filled with kids playing and mothers immersed in conversation… My niece starts wailing. She runs into my arms and won’t stop crying. Even though the dog but snapped at her, in that moment, the shock, startled this little girl enough for her to cry as if her life depended on it.

Everyone rushes to her and within minutes of my dad’s silly jokes and faces she starts laughing again. And just like that it’s over. She’s moved on to the next moment.

If every deep and disturbing moment in our lives could be met with that much resilience maybe our wounds wouldn’t be as deep.

Believe it or not children have one up on us. They suffer in the moment, dwell and let the pain and hurt fill them, and when there are no more tears, no more wining wails, they wipe their faces and just like that they move on to their next venture. While we, we’d rather pretend nothing happened. Say in the most normal way “Don’t cry. You’ll ruin your make up.” We repress emotions and tears so no one
finds the need to tell us to stop crying.

But is that really the best choice? Do we really allow our hearts and our souls to heal if we jump from being in pain to just fine? Or are we simply fooling ourselves by allowing the memory grow tender, so when the subject is touched it hurts deeper then it should.

I supposed at some age it becomes silly to throw tantrums for any given reason. Regardless we do lose sight of how to heal internally correctly. We stop using band-aids and mom’s kisses. And much rather turn to stitches or declare battle scars. Somehow thinking it makes us tougher, it makes us better.

But a man, or woman for that matter, isn’t measured by how many tears he stopped from rolling but how he took hold of the situation. Faced things head on and showed in spirit that among all beliefs - remaining strong even when everything is going wrong is what prevails. It is only when we face things head on that our hearts grow a little bit stronger, our skin a little bit thicker. That we come to the realization that we can be wounded but never demolished. That in the end when all is said and done we too can stand up, wipe ourselves off, reset and restart again.

I look out and smile at my niece who by now is playing once more with the dog. The recent incident completely forgotten. The anguish diminished. The tears now dried. And laughter, arising from a pure and innocent heart, fills that long lazy Texas afternoon.   

For every ending there is a new beginning

Days before my grandmother passed away I was hospitalized for stress and the lack of knowledge on how to deal with it properly. The following is bits and pieces of the last serious conversation I had with my grandmother. I held this advice the most dearest to my heart not knowing it would be the last…

She sighs deeply and takes hold of my hand. “Hay mi niña. Don’t you know you can’t live till you let go. The past will have a hold of you, tearing at you; it will grab you by the throat if you just let it reel deep within you. No Corazon. No. Don’t let them have power over you or they always will. You gotta forgive baby. You gotta let go, and you gotta move on.”

"But how do I do it grandma. I don’t know how to move forward. I feel stuck unable to move or to go on.”

“Hay mi niña es que no aprendes. You hold on to things forever child. You love too much. You don’t know when to stop loving. You did it when you were 5 with a wounded bird that fell out of the tree. While everyone thought he was to be discarded you were determined to prove otherwise. So you spent every second next to him, nurturing him. You cared so much that when he was ready to flee the nest you still couldn’t let him go. You love too much child. That’s who you are. But you gotta love yourself first, you hear that? You. Then everything else will fall into place.”

There she was trying to tell me that I cared too much and was often lost because of it. I am my grandmother’s child that way. I will love till my heart bleeds. But in her infinite wisdom my grandmother taught me a valuable lesson. That sometimes though we feel stuck unable to move on we must accept that some things are out of our control. Like the ending of a story or the end of a movie. We can’t write every ending, we can’t cast every movie. Eventually life will write itself. And you are left with no choice but to let things go, grieve, understand, forgive, and move on.

Christopher Columbus once said that you can never cross the ocean unless you have the courage to lose sight of the shore. To move on you must let your past behind you. To move on you must learn to forget that past. “You have to forgive to forget, and forget to feel again.” The first step you take is always the most important one. The first steps you take on any journey won’t get you where you want to go but without those first steps you would remain standing in the same place.

Moving on. Are but two simple words and the advice usually given after a break up. Two words that are easily said, very rarely understood, and harshly taken for granted. Sometimes when an ending is eminent the last thing we want to think about are those two words. Some would rather contemplate the past and keep hold of it than dare imagine the future. The thing about contemplating the "I could have, would have, should have's" in our stories is that they leave us in the same place. No solution land.

Because the past is the past and there is nothing you can do about something you cannot control. Sometimes we let our emotions overpower our common sense. And we let our desperation get in the way of reasonable thinking. So we get stuck in between what was and what we won’t let be. It happens even more naturally when we come to endings that are difficult to understand and even cope with. But that’s the thing about life, some things just are and not a power in the world or the most wishful thinking can change it.

And you could scream and shout "What!? How!? Why!?" But there's no use. Some endings just are. And there is no rewriting it, there's no sequel. You can’t rush healing. IT’S A PROCESS. From the sleepless nights to the “I can’t believe I loved you” days. Till one day you wake up and find that the pain has finally ceased. Like a fever that finally breaks.

The thing about relationships ending isn’t that you’re alone BUT that dreams die, castles crumble, faith crashes, that things change. And that you must rearrange what you thought before. Getting used to the change isn’t easy. But maybe that’s what “moving on” is… getting used to all that’s changed.

Not being loved, not loving. Whichever fits you. Maybe it’s getting used to new feelings and new circumstances. Facing the cards you were dealt and accepting them. Someone wise once told me that some things happen for a reason. You might want something but it may not be what you need. You just have to recognize it to stop hurting.

With the struggles, the heartache, and the pain comes lessons learned. And the truth is that just like my grandmother said when you are at peace with yourself everything else will fall into place. Sometimes we have to stop trying to know why life works the way it does. And why things happened. And learn to accept the peace that comes with knowing that you just can’t control or know it all.

There is no such thing as you lost it all. Because after all for every ending there is always a new beginning…

Letting the wind take you

“I wish I was a balloon.” - My friend says interrupting my thoughts.

“What? Why” I replied startled.

“Why not?” another friend chimes in.

“I’d never come down, just drift off, and let the wind take me where it wants to take me” she says as she sighs deeply.

I laugh realizing she’s right. Traveling in a balloon you can decide only when to start, and usually when to stop. The rest is entirely up to nature.

It was a late summer day, the wind was blowing, and we were surrounded by the noise of music, rides, and conversation. We found ourselves with our legs stretched out, sitting on top of a blanket on a hill, observing as one by one hot air balloons were being sent into the sky. We sat there and watched how one by one was slowly but surely rising. And before we knew it the sky was filled with them, each with their own charm.

Later on that day I got to thinking about relationships and about our own baggage that at times weighs us down and does not allow us to soar into the skies freely with out fear.

When a break up occurs the loose ends you try to tie usually unravel. Pain infiltrates deep into our souls. And even though it is true that Pain can be a burden, it can also be an anchor, we get used to it, to how it holds us to place.  

Ironically we get used to it so much… it becomes our crutch. That infinite reason we use to justify every action  or decision with. Every standard and all our reasoning. It’s not that we don’t want to be happy again… it’s just that the stakes are high and the risk of losing your heart to love willingly and blindly seems completely irrational. Instead of allowing ourselves to reset and start again we carry the past as baggage. Baggage that must be a part of every venture that we embark upon.  Every relationship that we attempt to build on.

“La vida sigue mi niña, a veces aunque queramos o no” my grandmother told me that once. There is a lot of truth in those words. Life goes on whether we’d like it to or not. And there comes a time when after all the healing is done we must choose where to go from here. Where to venture off to. 

 As a hot air balloon is being lifted, extra weight has to be removed in order for them to lift off. And we too, like a hot air balloon, have to let go of our anchors, of the things that hold us down… So we can save what is left of us. So we can really live. So we can experience life and love and all its bittersweet moments.

We must unload all the baggage that comes with the past and past relationships. We have to smile at the horizon and cleanse ourselves from what toxic thoughts we have that weigh us down. And before you know it there will be a moment of closure, a moment of redemption that allows your heart to start beating once more. A moment that will let you know its okay to start living and loving again. Time can heal a broken heart and it can erase all the bitterness so that things don’t seem so tragic after all.

See I agree when someone says moving on is hard to do. But I also believe, that if you Really want to be happy… it is not as hard as you’d think.

From a table away

She sat a table away at a distance that allowed her to hear it all. In the dim light he never even noticed she was there. After all it wasn’t her he was concentrating on but instead on the person in front of him. He sat immersed in conversation with her. She watched as he took her hand in his. Looked deep into
her eyes and was lost to her.

And at an arms length away she heard him say that he was still in love with her. And that’s when it happened. She could feel her heart breaking to pieces. She could feel the blood rushing out of her body. Her chest tightening up and her breath coming out slowly. She wanted to learn the truth and from a table away the harsh reality splashed her in the face. There he was, the man she loved most, telling someone else something she never dared imagine.

They say that truth hurts. That hearing it is a release of honesty but a sharp incision in the heart. The truth can free you of the anxiety but it can bind you to feeling the consequences of its reality. Anchoring you. The thing in telling the truth is that though it’s an honest act, a moral act, that doesn’t mean that what you have to say is what others would like to hear.

She was at that time heartbroken. It was as if her heart began to beat a different rhythm entirely. One she could never get used to, so that she felt nervous all the time and completely forgot what calmness and tranquility felt like.

She made the mistake of making Him her everything. Many years and a heart truly invested she lost herself in him. She had let down her guard, torn down the walls, and he’d come straight at her with a knife to her heart.

She could feel the ground beneath her start to shake. She closed her eyes andmemories of them rushed in. But every I love you and every kiss was now in flames. And in the ashes of it all she sat with blood shot eyes. The tears, an overflow of the heart that was barely beating. Covered in distress and disappointment she looked tattered and worn out.

She kept looking at him. Like if any minute now the portrait of him and her would shatter. But it didn’t. Instead he leaned in and kept speaking to her softly. And that was a reality that was too harsh to bear. It didn’t matter the time that transpired or the words spoken. The damage had been. He broke her spirit, broke her soul, and broke everything in her. All the lies, all the omissions where finally understood. Deception had shown its face.

It took seconds to lose the love she loved the most. But from a table away, under a dim light room, He broke her faith, broke their love, broke her heart. She gathered her things, took a deep breath and began the task of walking away as the pain inside her grew in weight and anchor. For you see the pain of having a broken heart is that it is not as much as to kill you, yet not so little as to let you live in peace.

The story of "us"

Once in a lifetime we meet someone who changes the taste of love for us forever…

They said goodbye the same way they met.

He asked her out to dance and she agreed. And in between the music and the beat of their heart their souls were intertwined. Within the laughter and the deep looks she locked her hands forever into his.

They spent the next couple of weeks getting to know each other and going on multiple dates. Every minute and every second was spent building something so beautiful and so rare.

Her soul was weary and her doubts were many. But he insisted. And as he took her hand in his. She just said “Please, please just don’t break my heart?” He smiled. Held her close and with a kiss they sealed a promise that they both believed. 

Life though had different plans for them. Months after they started dating she became ill. Almost lost her life multiple times.  She spent the next year in the hospital in complete and utter desperation. There was only so much medicine could do for her. And becoming that ill it was unsure if she’d make it through. The hurdles to overcome were many. The Finish line seemed unattainable.

But among all the sadness, and all the bitter desperation that came with her poor health, she kept a smile on her face. While doctors concentrated on keeping her body alive, she concentrated on keeping her spirits up. And inside the four walls of a sterile and cold room a love like no other blossomed.

A rare kind of deep connection between two souls that wanted nothing more than to be happy. A love so pure, and so intense matured rapidly. And among a torn and shattered world they found a way to make it through. He never left her side even when it became very hard to believe a future could exist. For her He was her best medicine. Maybe it was the way he looked at her, the way he always made her laugh, or the way he sat by her bed holding her hand for hours at a time. What they had created among those four walls seemed becoming of a fairy tale ending. For her He was her lifeline. And everyday he’d show up, even just to watch her sleep, they fell deeper and deeper in love.

He had of way changing what was an unbearable situation into a time of laughter and happiness. With his charisma and his attention he far out did any treatment she went through. And she held on, held on so tightly. She lost her soul to his ways and touch. He was for her, her one last chance, the Prince in shining armor who’d come to save her from the cruel reality she found herself in.

Recovery was long and very stressful. Physically she’d take one step forward and two steps back. But with time the hospital stays became less and less frequent. And she began to take hold of her life again. The problem with going through a war and coming out the other end alive is that it doesn’t change the fact that you are drained and worn out. After all the battling you can’t help but feel like you’ve been stretched very thin.

Maybe their love was only meant to coexist within those four walls of the hospital. Maybe it was something so rare and so precious that among the harsh truths of the real world they could not withstand.

In the end after many blows taken, their love had become so fragile it was difficult to continue to build upon a foundation that was deteriorating. And within time no matter how much She tried to hold it together it all unraveled right in front of them. And when the dust settled and they found themselves
standing in the rubble of what used to be their love, they stood at complete different ends. Distance and life had overpowered the love that once could take it all.

She loved him. Loved him so much it hurt. But something had been broken. The magic and the spell had come crashing down. And she found herself alone though he was right next to her.  

The decision to end the relationship was not an easy one. Because no one likes to admit defeat. But the harsh truth was that love cannot live off of yesterdays, it’s about believing in the future. And their faith at this point had become very fragile.

And just like that their story seemed to be cheated.  And though they never planned it they said goodbye the same way they met. Dancing the night away. After a hug and a kiss. The  curtain fell.  The credits rolled. And the fading score of a familiar tune put an end to a story that once was.

When London Bridge Falls Down

Trust is everything in a relationship. It’s what keeps hope alive. It’s what helps
you keep holding on to ideals like that it’s okay to put it all on the line. It
helps you find this unexplained comfort among you and a person. It’s what helps
make sense of things, that voice of reason. It’s this invisible bridge that has
to be built, maintained, taken care of, but most of all never taken for
granted.

Like any bridge, it can take blows. You can hit the median many times but it won’t
break to pieces just because. It takes a certain amount of pressure to find its
point of weakness before it ever feels like you’ll fall off the edge.

A relationship is no different. Most of us are good at taking blows. We don’t
fall off our hinges at the sight of a blow. But even when it happens we are
quick to re-enforce, re-build, re-structure. We have to. It’s the only thing
that keeps us going. That’s not to say that it’s easy, it’s not. It’s work. At
times we must put up our “Work ahead” signs. And even announced to our loved
ones that “fines are up to twice their price” in the new route. It’s our way of
re-routing instead of declaring a Dead End.

There are some things you rely on. Like a sure bet. But when they let you down it
makes the ground beneath you shake -right where you stand. And you are never
the same again. The problem is that once you’ve been hurt no matter how much
you want to turn the other cheek – you can’t help but flinch when you do. You
know it’s happened, you’ve felt the pain. Now it’s just a matter of when and
how you’ll handle it when it happens once more.

Doubt creeps in from all corners making you feel restless and on guard at all times. The
truth is that the foundation of the relationship has been damaged. And doubt is
like a thin crack on a wall. It appears small at first, repairable, but let it
run down a wall and it causes an inevitable split in its course.

It takes serious commitment to work through things. To let down our pride and
accept our mistakes. The only way to find success will be by re-enforcing,
re-building, and re-structuring. Realizing the true value of that person in
your life and not taking for granted the opportunity you’ve been given.

Life will throw at you many things. It will create wounds that can stretch deep and
long. But as human as we possibly are it doesn’t change the fact that we can
recover, recuperate, built up again. But you just have to be willing to take a
chance. If you invest wisely the pay off might just surprise you. And even if
you don’t succeed you must realize that even the biggest failure beat the hell
out of never trying…

Tú fotografía

“Me levanto en tu fotografía. Me levanto y siempre estas tu. En el mismo sitio cada día. La misma mirada. El mismo rayo de luz. El color ya no es el mismo de antes, tu sonrisa casi se borro. Y aunque no estés claro yo te invento en mis pensamientos y en mi corazón….

Si desapareces yo te encuentro en la misma esquina de mi

habitación…

…cada cosa en su sitio. El pasado y presente. En el polvo mis dedos se juntan y quiero tenerte cambiando conmigo...

Me levanto en tu fotografía cada día invento una actitud y aunque no se note en blanco y negro no me desespero, uso mi imaginación….”

I found myself a bit sleepless the other night. After a while I began to take out my picture box and albums. I hadn’t gotten through them in a while and they needed some rearranging. And I slowly drifted into memory lane.

I searched through photos of family and friends, embarrassing moments, hideous outfits, hilarious haircuts, interesting poses, and gleaming smiles. The funniest at the bottom of the stack.

Many pictures of me and my friends at age 5-8. With those over the top flowery, poufy armed, built-in-white-bib dresses that moms thought looked amazing. Always with an immense ribbon in our hair, socks with embroidery, and the shiniest leather patent shoes the world had to offer.

Needless to say I went through many pictures that night before sleep came. And I got lost in still images of precious times and what was I thinking moments. But when I reached the last picture taken of me with my grandmother days before she passed a sudden surge of emotions caught me unaware… almost taking my breath away.

My grandmother never smiled in pictures. She pursed her thin lips and tilted her head straight and forward. She came from a time when pictures were an event and only happened in special occasions. When profile pictures were actually of a persons profile and not an overflow of cropped and edited self images displayed at a corner of a screen. She came from a time when you were told to stand completely still and hold your breath, look stern, and stand erect.

I know so because in my head is this picture my grandmother used to have in her dresser hidden under folds of old clothes. I always found this picture amusing because pictures of her were so rare. Always taking it out when I’d remember. It was her at a young age. It’s a group picture of her and her and family who got lassoed around to just stand there and look directly at the photographer.

A black and white still photo where the phrase “cheese” didn’t exist. My grandmother looked so out of place standing in a corner. She wore a white hand-me-down dress that was too short showing the end of her bloomers. And her hair as black as could be was sticking out at the ends like she hadn’t washed it in days. But out of all the people in the picture she was the only one with a slight smile on her face. It was like my grandmother to find a way to shine brightly even in the worst of situations.

To be honest I’m not sure this picture even exists anymore. After she passed, the house my mom bought her in the city was closed off and left intact just the way she left it. No one had the courage to move or do away with her things. But I remember it nonetheless when I get deep in thought remembering her.

The truth is that there’s so much treasure and beauty in old photographs. Most of my favorites are those taken at a young age. Children’s photos hold bright eyes and crooked smiles. Still images of innocence, and purity and light heartedness of times.

Then there’s the pictures of people and the eras. Of laughter and life caught and kept safely in a memory we can physically hold. One picture can hold a story, a remembrance of a certain moment and instance. A sentiment that outlives dust and time, the yellowing and the discoloration.

There are the pictures we hold proudly up and display. The pictures we hide and try to not see. Those we tear because they just unravel us. Those that make the pieces and puzzles of our stories come together.

But I have to say that the most precious ones are those that help bring life to full circle. That make you remember the people who are no longer with you. That make that surge of emotions rush to your heart and pour out through your soul. The photographs that make you hold them tight and close… and bring warmth to the heart…