Silent Note

We all live our lives blindly, we make turns based on “gut instinct” but never know where we are actually going. For  years I’ve thought would someone just show me a light of direction but never stopped to think that the complete mystery of things is what makes life unimaginably amazing, thrilling, outstanding. I didn’t know that until now, I still don’t know if the turns I made were right or wrong but I know they brought me here, telling the stories of those who have passed me by and the lessons I learned. No one enters your life by coincidence or chance, they walk into your life for a reason, to show you who you really are in the end. 

snapchat-7588497933206109018-e1523598378350.jpgFATHER

My father has always been a quiet, calm, wise, and hardworking guy. He’s been a pizza maker for as long as I can remember, for a company that doesn’t care about him or any of its employees, how do I know this? I work under the same company, but we won’t get into that just yet. Growing up we knew we were seriously in trouble when our dad was mad at us, when he was angry, he let us have it.  Not in a bad way, there is not a time where I thought we didn’t deserve what we got. It helped us develop into well behaved children. We have such high respect and appreciation for my dad that we always try not to disappoint him, although sometimes I feel like that ship sailed a long time ago. He’s the type that keeps to himself a lot, but when it comes down to his love he will poor out his soul to you and make sure you know he loves you and cares. He’s always said that he doesn’t tell us what to do but he gives us advice from his experience and hopes that we will listen.

I think between both my parents I came out more like my dad. I got his love for rock in my veins, of course they come in different shapes and sizes but the same beat lives on in my heart. He really likes old Spanish rock and old school English rock. From Hombres G, Mana, and Los Enanitos Verdes to The Beatles and KISS. When my dad’s favorite artist, Joan Sebastian, passed away I remember getting home from work and walking into the living room where he was listening to his music crying. My dad truly admired that man, he owned every single album and heard every single song he wrote. You see there was more than just a musical admiration. When my dad was much younger and still living in the small ranch in Mexico, Joan Sebastian was on the edge of becoming super famous. One day he visited my dad’s ranch went into a small store and had bought three poor boys a soda. One of those three boys being my dad. It might not sound like a lot but for him it was very rare to have the money to buy a soda. Joan said a few inspiring words to the three boys, handed them the soda and walked out. Those words stayed with my father, he continued to admire him after. That year when he was to pass away my dad’s birthday was coming up and me and my mom had planned to buy him tickets so that he could see his hero once more. Unfortunately, he never got to see him again, it breaks my heart every time I think of those sad teary eyes that hid in the darkness when I got home that night.

Me and my dad share more than just music taste though, I think we both rather stay quiet and not lash out when we’re angry. You see growing up when I was upset I would lock myself in my room and get over it the next day. My mom and brothers would call me childish and would take our arguments and my feelings as a joke. They would just brush it off and say, “she’ll get over it”. But little did they know I was listening to every word they said. I’m not going to sit here and sound like a victim and say they hurt my feelings boohoo, but I will say this. I rather not open my mouth and say something in anger that I’ll regret later, nor will I hold a grudge at someone for days or weeks especially when it’s family. It’s not worth it, why waste my time throwing a tantrum over something someone said. My dad has the same idea, he rather stay quiet and move on then bicker with a stubborn hard-headed person.

We love a lot more than we fight, my dad and I. He’s a hopeless romantic that believes that if my mother should die before him, he will continue to love her even after death and won’t be able to love another. He follows my mom like a lost puppy all the time around the house, writes her poetry, and can’t leave the house without giving her a kiss. I believe that when my significant other passes away I probably won’t be able to move on either, even if it’s just for company, I couldn’t I rather wait patiently alone until I can be with them again after death. When I fall in love, I fall in love hard, which can be a curse when all that is left is heartache. I will give it my all to make you feel happy even if it leads to misery for me.

My dad as calm and quiet as he is he will still on occasion joke around with us and laugh. He would watch wresting back when we used to believe WWE was real, sit there for the night and get excited like us. Those are the good times, the happy times, I wish I could give him more of those days. He stresses out a lot driving through traffic for hours to get to work or home. It breaks my heart seeing him as tired as he looks all the time, no mad should work that hard to get by. I wish I could give the world to it’s my dad, he deserves that and so much more. There isn’t a time when I have never appreciated what he has done for me, I just wish he could be happy and stress free. The city is killing him, the constant traffic, the cold rough winters, the way people are here. It’s killing him, you can see it in his weary eyes, in his thin hair with streaks of grey and white. I hope someday I can give my dad as close to the world as I can give him.

cupcakeMOTHER

My mom is the opposite of my dad, she speaks her mind freely sometimes more than she intends to. I think she speaks without thinking and that could be a bad thing for her most of the time because then she comes off as a bit mean. She’s more blunt and realistic then my dad, she says love doesn’t last forever and that its more of just a partnership in the end. My thoughts on love are more like my dad’s with a small dose of my mom. I’ve had my differences with my mother but it’s common between a child and a parent. As an adult now I can tell when it’s best to just apologize because there is no getting through to her, which is fine, that’s just how she is. She’s very strict but only because she worries and is paranoid over everything. That’s a mother’s love to worry for her child no matter how much they say they are fine.

But my mom is more than just a stubborn head. She loves to burst into song for no reason at least ten times a day, which can be annoying if you’ve been gaming all night till 4am and she decides the morning is the best time to sing. It can also be a sweet thing however knowing that she has the confidence and joy to sing everyday no matter the circumstance. I’ve realized the other day that I take on one of the things she does. We both, when upset, start cleaning what’s around us. I don’t know why my mom does it, but because of my OCD cleaning and organizing helps me calm down, it gives me a sense of relief. Doing this while listening to music is usually my therapy. I also like singing like my mom but I’m not as confident as she is, I can only sing in front of certain people or alone most of the time.

When we were in grammar school during our summer breaks my mom would sit us down and continue to teach us and make us study more. As a child, this was very tedious thing, but there is one thing she taught me that I can never forget and I’m very thankful for. I had just learned multiplication in school and my mom had me studying in the summer. She begins to teach me division, it was difficult but after pages and pages of problem solving I had it down. When school started again, the teacher went over multiplication a few times and then came division. All the kids in my class room were losing it, they had just got the hang of multiplication what was this monstrosity that was laid upon on them. The teacher handed out worksheets for us to answer the problems, and I couldn’t help but laugh and think of my mom. Because of her I would glide on through this course, I had already mastered this over the summer. So, while everyone was struggling I was high fiving my mom in my head.

With my mom, I had to hold my tongue a lot, like I’ve said before I rather not say something in anger and then regret it later. As a teenager, I felt like she said a few hurtful things, she’s locked me out the house a couple times, but looking at it as an adult I can’t help but to think, well, what would I do? With a stubborn kid that won’t listen, I’d probably do the same thing. There are a few things maybe she could have done differently but there is no such thing as a perfect parent. I also came to understand that my mom comes from a different time, she just raised us the way she was, the only way she understands. Which is fine by me, we grew up to be respectful kids. Well at least me and my older brother, my younger siblings I think got a little spoiled since my mom kind of gave up a little more with them, not as strict as she was with me and my older brother.

Now me and my mom sit in the kitchen and can just talk, go to the gym together when we both have the motivation to do so. We can communicate a lot better than before, honestly all I used to think was my mother never loved me that I didn’t understand why she would say the things she said. What I didn’t realize was, what was my mom going through? My grandmother, her mom, passed away when I was in 5th grade, that was the time when I began to feel ignored. My mom was suffering through the time my grandma was alive. She would take care of her while she was sick and take her to her doctor’s appointments. My mom cried so much while she was alive, more than when she passed away I think. I remember the day my grandmother died crystal clear. They told us we were going to my aunt’s house where she was staying last. It was the middle of the night and I didn’t know what was going on, when we got there my cousin said they were all going to the hospital. But my grandma was long dead before the ambulance could even get there. She had died in her sleep; my aunt had tried to wake her up and she never did.

My mom had reached my uncles at Florida telling them when the funeral would be, of course they had every right to come see their mother one last time. But my aunts didn’t like that my mother reached my uncles because of some bad blood between them. I don’t know the details but I believe one of them was really drunk and had done something abusive to my cousin. The way my mom saw it, he was family and he had a right to see his mother and mourn for her at her funeral. I don’t know what happened exactly but I think I stand with my mom. They just had to deal with it for one day and they can continue hating each other for the rest of their lives. After that my aunts kind of gave my mom a hard time, we’re still not invited to family events. I personally don’t like how my aunts hold grudges and talk bad about one another. For all of this I can understand why my mom may have changed, but I still love my mom I just wish I can open her eyes to just relax and take it easy sometimes. It’s hurting her health being stressed out so much and it worries me a lot.

She recently went to Mexico to visit my grandpa who unfortunately is not doing too well. She had went to say her good byes in case anything happened, and the trip didn’t go well at all. My aunts and uncles were fighting with one of my aunts who lives in Mexico and was covering my grandpas hospital bills. My mom was staying with my grandpa  every night to morning while he was asleep on drugs. When he finally opened his eyes he asked if my mother was fighting with my aunts she had said no to keep him calm. So he ignored her knowing she was lying. For the rest of her stay at the hospital that day he brushed my mom off, and that was the last time she saw him. After that she told my aunts she was tired of the arguing and left. When my mom got back… I had never seen her so broken, crying almost everyday. I really wish things had gone differently for her, and hopefully some day soon things will get better and she’ll be able to see her dad in better conditions.

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TEENAGE DREAMS

My siblings are what most siblings are, you love them but hate them all at once. My younger brother is 18 a very troubled kid. He had severe depression when he was in grade school and growing up anger management issues as well. I can give the world to him and at the end of the day he can still be mad at me when I ask him to take out the trash. When he’s normal he can goof around and want to hug you all the time, but when he’s angry watch out for the storm. His weakness, my father. All my dad has to do is tell him that he’s hurting him and he’ll stop instantly. He’s not very social, he doesn’t like being in a crowded room with people he doesn’t know, he feels like he’s being judged constantly. But I suppose that’s how all teenagers are, I was the same way once. He loves music, boy does he love music. I think if he had the option to be at a concert all his life he would take it. He dreams of starting his own band and that’s his main priority. I just hope he’ll be alright when he realizes big dreams hit as big as they come. I feel comfortable with my brother, I can tell him anything without feeling judged. We can spend long nights talking about life and how fucked up it can get.

I think out of everyone my grandmothers death hit him the hardest. He was close to her, spoiled by her. He cried a lot, I wasn’t that close to her but I still miss her. I try to help him through his tough times, when he’s feeling down or stressed. But like my younger self he’s stubborn and foolish. He’s blind to his own childish tantrums, that’s why he falls into depression so quickly, believing that no one loves him.

He was put into a loony bin for a while, so close to thanksgiving that I was scared he wasn’t going to be with us for the holidays. He put himself there. In grade school, he had gone to a meeting with my parents with his teacher, they were worried about him because of what he would write. They got home, picked up his stuff and left again shortly to take him. I don’t remember how long he was there for but it couldn’t be more than a month. It was the longest month for me, I was worried it wouldn’t be temporary. The day he came back I nearly cried but I held it back and continued on. After that it was several therapy sessions after another to check on his improvement. But it didn’t end there, he stopped going to the sessions because he was supposed to look for another doctor and they never did.  He had scars from the cuts he would make on his arm.

One night we went to my aunt’s house and she saw it. When we left, my mom yelled at my brother the whole way home.When we arrived at the house she went into his room like a tornado sweeping every corner to look for what he was using to cut himself. She yelled at him saying she didn’t know what to do with him anymore and that if he wanted to go back to the home. All he did was put on his hoodie and act like he didn’t care. My dad had finally gotten home from work and confronted my brother, I don’t know exactly what was said. I was in a state of mind where the whole world felt like it was falling apart I was going to lose my brother again, the screams in the background like echoes hitting the wall. But nothing happened. At least I don’t remember anything happening.

It was more than just losing my brother they were observing my parents and threatening to take my younger sister too if anything happened again with my brother. My mom believed it was all my brother over reacting that he needed to suck it up because the world is tough and that he was going to have to deal with it. But it was more than just that, I believe my brother has a hard time coping with death. A loose dog was shot at my doorstep by the police and he felt so bad for that dog’s death he struggled at school again and it was brought to my dad’s attention by a teacher. When we told my mom once again she said he needed to get over it. I understand how my mother thought, to this day I don’t know if my brother was faking it or not. What I do know is after everything, the home, him running away, the crying, I’m just glad he’s still around and with us today.

I still struggle getting through to him, I think as the years go by it gets harder to talk with him. I understand he’s a teenager and at his age he’ll tend to think presently and selfishly but because of that he doesn’t see the damage he leaves to those around him. My sister is becoming his copy which can be a bad thing when it comes to temper.  My mom seems a little more depressed when it comes to the subject of him and I can see it in my dad’s eyes as well. He’s disrespected me and said the most awful things to me. When he was off in the hospital doing therapies, running away, or back talking to my mother. Listening to all the heavy shit, it made me worry, it made me cry, it hurt me. Not just because I was scared of losing him, but I just wanted to see him happy. I wanted to take the pain, the depression, I wanted to take it all away just to see him smile again. I want to see him reach his greatest potential rather that’s being in a band or taking pictures professionally…I just want to see him happy.

 

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