Monday, November 22, 2004
Pondering on Merrick
I was at the bus stop Friday night, leaning against the bus stop pole just staring into the night sky and I asked myself... "What if the bus never comes?"
Well that was after waiting over an hour on a deserted strech of Merrick Road with nothing but the sound of squirrels scurring in the cementary behind me and airplanes flying miles above me. I took a long drag of my cigarette as I contemplated the events of the night before and scanned the street for any sign of an approaching bus. Nothing.
It had been an extremely long night the prior day and I was still upset about the realization I had come to as we drove down Northern Boulevard after leaving Sal's house. Nadine had asked me several times during the ride if I was alright. She had caught me staring blankly out the side window of Fernando's car. It was at White Castle where I made my decision. Armando and René had gone for a walk while we waited on the drive-thru. I had reached my decision and I had to escape from the confines of the stopped car. I reached for the door handle and stepped into the cool night.
I hadn't meant for anyone to realize what was going through my mind at that moment, especially not my present company. It wasn't a trust nor pride issue, because crying in public doesn't put any dents in my manhood. It was more because they just didn't and couldn't understand my family history and the parallels between Armando and my older brother. The tears slowly inching over my cheeks had given it all away though.
My brother and Armando are both artists. And damned good ones. Neither one of them excelled in school, nor did they care to. They both have deep interpersonal issues with their fathers, and they both seem to have a recurring problem finding, much less maintaing a job. That's point along the path that Armando is at now; but I know it leads into a much darker world. One of drug abuse, suicide attempts, drunken violence, self-hate, hermitism, and only God knows what other perils. Some of these he has already encountered. Some he has not.
All though my childhood I had watched idly as my brother slowly dug himself into his own grave. I was too young to do anything about it back then or to even realize something was wrong. Well the decision that I had come to sitting in the queue at the White Castle drive-thru was that I was not going to do it again. I was not going to watch it happen all over again.
I walked up that drive-thru and found Cindy leaning on a short blue fence that lined the outside of the White Castle. She saw the distress on my face and I told her what I had realized. She agreed. A loud thump interrupted our thoughts and we both peered in throught the large window of the restaurant. Armando had fallen down against the wall near the bathroom. They were behind the locked door that could only be opened using a buzzer from behind the counter. René and Tommy tried to lift him together.
He was struggling and I wanted to help them, but once again I was unable to. I was seperated from him by the locked door and I felt four years old all over again, unable to help. All I could do was watch once more. I banged my fists against the glass and leaned my head against it in defeat.
The rest of the night was difficult for me, and I got home close to seven in the morning after taking care of Armando in a Waldbaums parking lot, that in his drunken stupor he mistook for a supermarket in Southbridge.
It was a very emotional time for all of us. Or maybe not all of us. According to some people, "That's life." Well I've seen where that "life" leads, and I know it can be avoided with caring support, guidance, advice and compassion. Some of my friends are with me on this intervention and I know some could care less but wouldn't want to come across as apathetic. That's fine with me; I know not everyone feels as strongly as I do about this issue.
A bus headed to Freeport pulled up across the street. It was the fifth one going in the opposite direction. I really began to wonder if the bus was ever coming. Finally after about another 15 minutes my bus arrived.
I flagged it down and climbed aboard, MetroCard in hand. The bus was packed. I wonderd if these people had been standing at some bus stop also wondering if the bus would ever come.
Later that night I found myself with Armando after borrowing Fernando's car to go pick him up. He told me how hard it was to care about people when he didn't even love himself. I saw the pain in his face. He told me how he didn't understand why we cared about him so much. How could we care for him when he's done nothing to earn it. How he felt like he owed us something. And how he thought we'd be better off without him.
My mind raced back to verses I had read in the Bible. About how God loved us unconditionally, even through all our sins. I rememebered what love was. What true love was, and how love was not something that could be earned. I told him, and I told him we care because we love him. And that he didn't need to do anything in return to keep our love and care. We didn't expect nothing in return. At least I don't.
The whole situation reminded me of how important it is to have a loving parental figure. We all expect love from parents. It's only natural... and we don't receive this natural love it can wreck havoc on a person. But God is always there... that's why we call him Father, right? Because he will love us with that unconditional love we all so desperately need. All we need to do is look to him. And I've turned my back for so long.... but that's another issue for me to resolve. He's reaching out to me to come back... maybe I still have some lessons to learn before I stop being so rebellious. Maybe I won't learn until I'm broken down all the way. Maybe it's starting already...
My mother has cancer. The results came in on Thursday.
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Well that was after waiting over an hour on a deserted strech of Merrick Road with nothing but the sound of squirrels scurring in the cementary behind me and airplanes flying miles above me. I took a long drag of my cigarette as I contemplated the events of the night before and scanned the street for any sign of an approaching bus. Nothing.
It had been an extremely long night the prior day and I was still upset about the realization I had come to as we drove down Northern Boulevard after leaving Sal's house. Nadine had asked me several times during the ride if I was alright. She had caught me staring blankly out the side window of Fernando's car. It was at White Castle where I made my decision. Armando and René had gone for a walk while we waited on the drive-thru. I had reached my decision and I had to escape from the confines of the stopped car. I reached for the door handle and stepped into the cool night.
I hadn't meant for anyone to realize what was going through my mind at that moment, especially not my present company. It wasn't a trust nor pride issue, because crying in public doesn't put any dents in my manhood. It was more because they just didn't and couldn't understand my family history and the parallels between Armando and my older brother. The tears slowly inching over my cheeks had given it all away though.
My brother and Armando are both artists. And damned good ones. Neither one of them excelled in school, nor did they care to. They both have deep interpersonal issues with their fathers, and they both seem to have a recurring problem finding, much less maintaing a job. That's point along the path that Armando is at now; but I know it leads into a much darker world. One of drug abuse, suicide attempts, drunken violence, self-hate, hermitism, and only God knows what other perils. Some of these he has already encountered. Some he has not.
All though my childhood I had watched idly as my brother slowly dug himself into his own grave. I was too young to do anything about it back then or to even realize something was wrong. Well the decision that I had come to sitting in the queue at the White Castle drive-thru was that I was not going to do it again. I was not going to watch it happen all over again.
I walked up that drive-thru and found Cindy leaning on a short blue fence that lined the outside of the White Castle. She saw the distress on my face and I told her what I had realized. She agreed. A loud thump interrupted our thoughts and we both peered in throught the large window of the restaurant. Armando had fallen down against the wall near the bathroom. They were behind the locked door that could only be opened using a buzzer from behind the counter. René and Tommy tried to lift him together.
He was struggling and I wanted to help them, but once again I was unable to. I was seperated from him by the locked door and I felt four years old all over again, unable to help. All I could do was watch once more. I banged my fists against the glass and leaned my head against it in defeat.
The rest of the night was difficult for me, and I got home close to seven in the morning after taking care of Armando in a Waldbaums parking lot, that in his drunken stupor he mistook for a supermarket in Southbridge.
It was a very emotional time for all of us. Or maybe not all of us. According to some people, "That's life." Well I've seen where that "life" leads, and I know it can be avoided with caring support, guidance, advice and compassion. Some of my friends are with me on this intervention and I know some could care less but wouldn't want to come across as apathetic. That's fine with me; I know not everyone feels as strongly as I do about this issue.
A bus headed to Freeport pulled up across the street. It was the fifth one going in the opposite direction. I really began to wonder if the bus was ever coming. Finally after about another 15 minutes my bus arrived.
I flagged it down and climbed aboard, MetroCard in hand. The bus was packed. I wonderd if these people had been standing at some bus stop also wondering if the bus would ever come.
Later that night I found myself with Armando after borrowing Fernando's car to go pick him up. He told me how hard it was to care about people when he didn't even love himself. I saw the pain in his face. He told me how he didn't understand why we cared about him so much. How could we care for him when he's done nothing to earn it. How he felt like he owed us something. And how he thought we'd be better off without him.
My mind raced back to verses I had read in the Bible. About how God loved us unconditionally, even through all our sins. I rememebered what love was. What true love was, and how love was not something that could be earned. I told him, and I told him we care because we love him. And that he didn't need to do anything in return to keep our love and care. We didn't expect nothing in return. At least I don't.
The whole situation reminded me of how important it is to have a loving parental figure. We all expect love from parents. It's only natural... and we don't receive this natural love it can wreck havoc on a person. But God is always there... that's why we call him Father, right? Because he will love us with that unconditional love we all so desperately need. All we need to do is look to him. And I've turned my back for so long.... but that's another issue for me to resolve. He's reaching out to me to come back... maybe I still have some lessons to learn before I stop being so rebellious. Maybe I won't learn until I'm broken down all the way. Maybe it's starting already...
My mother has cancer. The results came in on Thursday.
Pondering on Merrick posted @ 11:47 PM :: 
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