Dejavu

Hoy no escribo para ustedes…escribo para poder avanzar.
Esta es la conclusión, la despedida; es conmemorar lo que me dejaron, es honrarlos en la única manera en que puedo, escribiendo.

Tal vez después lo traduzca pero por lo pronto, solo se queda en el idioma en que pude darle salida a todos estos pensamientos.

Gracias por su paciencia, sus buenos deseos, su apoyo.
Espero que el 2016 sea bueno con todos.

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The last time I saw him, I was walking out of a cab we shared after we met…and I walked into a house that was not my home.
We only met once while I was visiting the city for a few days; a fellow couchsurfer and friend wanted me to meet Adair and while I didn’t really understand why, I obliged.
With a cup of cheap coffee in hand, we sat in a bench in CNA after a long day and talked the afternoon away. And I fell in love with his cheerful spirit, brave heart and kind spirit.
He only needed music to keep going, Chévere Suave was a way to live, not just the band he played in. I secretly made a mental note to find a way to see him play one day; to meet again and hopefully have amazing stories of my own, to share whenever he told me about his adventures.
I wished to be more brave, more bold. If not as much as him, just a tad more daring to be worthy of his friendship and affection.

The last time I saw her, she was driving away with her partner…and I walked into my home and never hesitated about the fact that we’d meet again.

We had met a couple of times and bonded easily over pop culture and feminism. She wrote gorgeously and I would admire her from afar, interacting here and there…cheering on her whenever she embarked in a new adventure; expressing my support and encouraging others to help her go further than I had even tried.
Later we talked about my writer’s block and the things that I have been trying to write, and I wanted to make her proud by overcoming my anxiety and finally publishing the stories we talked every now and then. We had so many conversations left undone.

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One day, while perusing social media carelessly I found out many people were going on and on about Adair…cheering on him to make it through.

THROUGH WHAT?
Writing about it, thinking about it makes me so anxious that I’ve had to stop myself from peeling my skin off as I usually do when I can’t cope with something.

I asked our only friend in common, I worried while I read confusing things on his profile; and soon enough we found out he had had a terrible accident and the outlook was grim.
I can’t remember how long the prayers and well wishes went back and forth before one night I saw a post that broke my heart. He was gone.

I carelessly wrote to my dearest D, overwhelmed by emotions, and gave him the news in the most idiotic and discomforting way I could’ve done it. I’m sorry, D. I didn’t take into account that we were in different time zones and that surely enough I woke you up to tell you Adair was gone; I was too confused, and angry at life to handle things in a more caring way. After all, he was your friend too, he was your friend first and I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was too late.

I cried a lot, everywhere.
I tried to keep it together but I felt so angry.
I wanted to punch life in the face for taking away someone that had so much to give to the world. He taught me so many things in one afternoon, I was thirsty to keep learning from him.

I wanted the world to see his talent, his smile, his kindness!
And suddenly he was gone.

I often catch myself making plans to meet him again, whenever I think of flying back to DF. Sometimes I think about how cool it would be for D, Adair and I to get together and have a conversation about all the things left unsaid…and I feel like crying again. I feel like punching life in the face, again.

Last week, shivers went down my spine once more…
When I logged to social media to find myself staring at the comments of one of the most beautiful photos of Laura, sitting across the monitor in my office, baffled.

People kept giving Laura’s mom, their condolences…FUCK NO.
I hoped and wished for it to be a terrible joke, an awful misunderstanding.

Once more I reached out to a friend, the friend that had introduced us and wished from the very bottom of my heart, and stomach, that he would tell me it was all wrong; they had to be wrong.
My friend, J was just as confused as I was. Laura had moved to DF a few months ago and kept in touch with everyone through social media. She was after all, a great Community Manager.

When I realized that it was true, that she had really passed away my head spun out of control once more. I found myself crying in my desk again and locked myself in the bathroom as I texted her mom.

If my heart was broken, surely hers was beyond repair.
I truly am sorry for your loss, L. I don’t think I’ll ever have enough words to give you, to help you heal.
I suck at condolence-ing, I hate it with all my guts but I tried to send you love and positive vibes.

When I headed back to my desk, all of the ladies in my department had heard me crying my heart out and came to me, and embraced me and I felt such a relief. I explained as best I could and they just held me while the wave of anger and sadness hit every inch of my body.
I felt cheated on.

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They are not supposed to die, they were too young, too healthy…their deaths will be intertwined in my brain for years to come.
Both of them were present in my life in a different light than most of my friends; and were inspiration and fuel for my dreams.
They were causing a dent in the universe.

That is what pisses me off the most.
They were doing something brave, inspirational and amazing with their time on this Earth.

I have looked and looked for the silver lining. I’ve cried thinking about them; I miss them and whats worse is that I feel I don’t deserve to miss them because we meet so briefly in life, we barely got a chance to learn from one another.
And I continue to battle the anger for losing good people and still having to look at the corrupt, the evil and the cruel move forward in life.
The whole thing has felt like a cruel joke that repeated itself, and echoed inside my body and mind over and over and over.
Like a dejavu I’m not sure how to handle…trapped inside a moment, feeling what comes next but not being able to get past it.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Life is fair after all. None of us has a guarantee that we will make it to the next day, through the night even.
And my only wish is that they lived a full life, that each day had something to make them smile; they deserved a smile, tons of them actually.

I’m still processing this. I still feel all this has to be a misunderstanding and that the plans I made in my head will happen, that we will get to go on great adventures, write, create, share more!
And maybe the lesson here is to move forward, even if my stomach twists and turns at the very thought of leaving them behind.

You’ve taught me amazing things, Adair & Laura. I miss you and I still cry for you; I can’t see past this yet.

But I will. I hope I will.
And I hope that others are inspired by the adventures I will embark in your honor, and I will keep you in my mind and in my heart.
I don’t believe in the afterlife, and I don’t get that consolation that we will meet again, but I believe that you left lessons for me to find out there, for all of us.

firmablog

3 responses to “Dejavu

  1. Cuando personas así tocan nuestras vidas de la forma que tocaron la tuya, la única forma de honrarlos es vivir con un poco de su inspiración. Algún día te darás cuenta que eres valiente como él y que tu forma de escribir hace que uno se sienta dentro de lo que describes. De alguna manera creo que tus acciones ya están impactadas por sus lecciones, algunas conscientes, otras no. Y si te embarcas en aventuras a propósito de lo que aprendiste de ambos, estoy segura que inspirarán a otros también, y de esa forma ellos continuarán viviendo. No hay lados positivos en todo esto, sólo agradecer por el tiempo compartido, aprender, valorar, atreverse y seguir avanzando.

  2. That’s what friends do😉

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