Para Empesar: The stories of my family.

Manuel Benavidez covered his weathered eyes.  Tears built up inside but not a drop would refreshen his dry skin.  His arms shaking violently trying desperately to hold back what his father had once told him, ‘El Hombre no llora.’  The cries from the women and children pierced the West Texas skies with a painful sorrow.  In seconds what he knew of love was taken from him.

A tall man about 5’11 with full dark black hair always kept in place.  Callous hands made of leather, forearms and biceps that could lift anything placed in front of him.  An honest and hard working man who had come to Texas seeking a better life for his young wife Mary and his children.  He was stitched by the wind, dust, and sun in the fields picking anything that would make them money and feed his family.  

With the season done they were on their way home from working Mr. Butch’s Farms in Fort Morgan, Colorado.  After stopping on the side of the road to check the trucks and allow his pregnant wife Mary a moment to walk and let the blood flow through.  The Benavidez Family and Barrera Family were also aching for a break, with the young kids running wild and in desperate need to go to the bathroom.  It was the same place that for years they would pull over, stretch the legs, use the bathroom, make sandwiches and relax for the remaining nine hour drive home.  

Armandina Barrera the youngest daughter of Domingo and Florencia Barrera  took out the bread and salami to make sandwiches for everyone to eat.  Meanwhile Florencia went to see how her comadre Mary was feeling, being she was a mother of two boys and one girl and understood the discomfort of a long drive cramped in a truck.  

Once Mary assured her all was fine, she walked to help her daughter to help with lunch.  With the men checking the trucks to make sure they were fit for the final half of the trip life seemed normal.  The trucks were full of their personal possessions as was the case when migrant families packed to leave to go work the fields.  

The boys Celedonio and Servando, Domingo's boys were inspecting the tarp covering the treasures bought at garage sales Manuel would sell at Flea Markets to help keep the families financially solvent during the off season.  From toys, to bikes, used tires, stoves, if Manuel felt he could double the money he'd buy it.  Such was his life, a Mexican Gypsy per sea.  

Mary meanwhile was walking and stretching her swollen legs, she was 7 months pregnant and was expecting their third child.  She instructed her two daughters Dora and Maria to go help Armandina and Florencia with lunch.  After taking some time and having a sandwich, she walked over to give Manuel his lunch.  Soon after she walked between the two trucks to sit on the bumper and rest some more before the final drive home.  

In a flash, the explosion of sound, a screeching sound of gravel dragging on hot asphalt, and the violent sound of a Semi-Truck hitting the truck scared everyone.   When everyone looked to see what had happened, there was the beautiful Mary pinned to her death between the two parked trucks.  

Life was no longer easy.  The Sun didn’t set in the west smoothly, the moon would never rise again with the beautiful soul that was Mary.  As the men tried in desperation to separate the trucks to free her, Manuel realized his heart had been ripped from his chest.  

MAMA!  MAMA! MAMA! Gilberto, Dora, and Maria screamed.  Manuel uncovered his shaking hands and saw his life flee him.  The confusion with what had just occurred had set in as quickly as the accident had happened.  Guilt over whelmed his soul, yet the searing pain of his children overtook his grief.

Trying to comfort his daughters to no avail.  Doña Florencia hugged the children to her chest while her own daughter clung to them.  She blocked the death of her dear friend from her daughters.  Gilberto stared in shock at his lifeless mother.  

"Para empezar es un dia que no se me escapó todos estos años.”  Manuel would tell me years later.

Note:  This is the story of my family, the triumph and tragedies experienced yet overcame.  The love story of two migrant families that became one.   

Sometimes its easier...

Some people see a shrink or a therapist.  I like to write about my highs and lows, its cheaper.  Sometimes?

Sometimes its easier to hide in the shadows.  Its easier to drink to numb the smile you show the world.  To oft people want to know what freedom shines in your smile.  Yet they have no idea the weight of your heart.

This morning went for a walk to ‘not think.’  The question was “How did that work for you?”  The answer is simple, “Hold on…let me put my drink down and answer the question I don’t want to hear the answer to.”  

What happened to life?  What happened to my dreams?  What happened?

Well in a short summation.  Need to walk to the ‘far side of the sun.  Its a battle thats got to be won!”  Thank you CVC for that.  So what does this mean?  

Is this boy fucked up?  Broken?  Has his soul left him or better yet is it on vacation?  Maybe.

What if by chance he is one dark fuck who is trying to figure out a part of him that is empty? Way too deep.  Let me put that in simpler words.  He does not want anyone to know what is beneath the smile.

Maybe he is stuck in a moment he cant get out of….Thank you U2 really like that one.  Or just a man who is holding his heart out in his hand for someone to hold it.

Okay enough.  If the drain in your shower is suppose to wash away all your evil?  Then why o why does it feel it clings to me like a second skin?

As the Merry of the Holidays arrived there is a reason to be grateful.  Family.  Friends. Health.  A great bottle of Araujo Eisele Syrah.  A great wine has memories etched on the bottle, this one has the aroma of love, the flavor of life, and the long lasting effect of eternity in it.

A penny for your thoughts?  Sorry, far too valuable to inform you of what is behind the smile.  There is remembrance of an elephant mind, of laughter, freedom of the heart, and most importantly the warmth of a touch.

Sometimes is easier to just keep these moments locked away in the corner of my heart.  Lock them away in the middle of my mind.  They will will always be yours.  As I sit here enjoying this incredible glass of wine, somethings are between my mind and my heart.  Somethings are better left unsaid.

Happy Holidays to everyone.  Be nice to people.  Hold yourself to a higher standard.  I know I have failed at this.  I am working on myself.  Not for you or for anyone, for myself.  I need to understand the hate inside of me.

In the end all the broken pieces of my heart have gathered in a pool that you left behind.  Maybe one day they will heal.  Sometimes its easier to say the right things to people and not the truth.  Sometimes its easier to find solitude as your partner.

Rick Ramos

Where the heart is

A couple of days ago was sitting outside in the patio listening to the silence enjoying a lazy afternoon after traveling.  In the midst of this there was this sound coming from the other side of the fence.  Could not put my finger on it.  Thump!  Thump!  Thump!  

After about five minutes of this, finally was annoyed that someone was disturbing my quiet solitude.  Opened the gate and there across the alley was this young kid probably about 15 years old digging a hole on the ground.  

Asked him what he was doing?  Very politely apologized and told me that he was digging a hole because his dog had died.  That he wanted to bury him.  My heart sunk.  His mother got off the car and was about to walk toward me when I told him it was okay.  

She also apologized and said that they did not have to.  

Continued to watch this boy work hard to try and dig this hole for his dog.  Not gonna lie my heart broke for this kid.  Walked back and got my shovel and went to help him out.  As I approached him could tell he was visibly shaken.  Then I just said, “Take a break let me do this.”

Over the next half hour we talked a bit.  AJ was his name.  The dog was Bits, a gift from his Grandmother.  It was originally hers but she had asked him to take care of it when she got sick.  Turned out his Grandmother had recently passed away.  My hands were shaking.  

I asked him questions to try and take his mind off of the moment.  How old was he? How were his grades in school?  What did he want to do when he got older?  Had he thought of where he wanted to go to college?  

When we felt the hole was deep enough, he proceeded to very gently take Bits out and lay him to rest.  The moment was extremely surreal.  He placed his hand on his love and held it there.  I told him to take his time.  My heart was crushed.  

My father always told me that men don’t cry.  For some reason felt that his had told him as such.  “Its okay to cry AJ.  Society tells us that men should not cry.  Many times we don’t shed a tear.  It doesn’t mean are soul is not crying inside.  Its okay to hurt.  Its okay to have this emotion.”

Honestly was at a loss for words.

Then he grabbed the shovel and I could see his hands visibly shaking.  So I told him to take some time that I would do it.  So I proceeded to as gently as possible cover Bits in his final resting place.  

When I was done gathered some rocks and placed it on top to establish the site for him.  “Thank you.”  None needed AJ.  

“AJ it hurts today.  It will hurt tomorrow.  But you will never forget what Bits meant to your Grandma and to you.  You will be okay.  Its bullshit that time heals all wounds.  It doesn’t, they sit there and tear you down.  Don’t let it.  Give yourself the reason to smile again.”  

His eyes watery, still shaking, he extended his hand to me.  “Thank you Mr. Ramos.  

I thought for sure that I would never see this kid again.  Guess that I am just so damm cynical and jaded that I have no belief in people or life, felt that it was just a moment.  It was suppose to teach me something.  Just could not figure out what the lesson was.

Got home a little while ago.  It was a long travel day and just the frustration of life has me on short strings.  Made myself a drink and went to my sanctuary of solitude.  Put some music on and was just about to block the world out.  

“Mr. Ramos are you there?”  Opened the gate and there was AJ.  After asking how he was doing, my soul was lifted to the heavens.  “Mr. Ramos, you are right.  We are not suppose to cry.  We are suppose to be strong.  I tried.  When my mom and I left could not stop crying.  My mom said it would be okay.  What you told me was all I could think.  Told my mom, that I though you were crying on the inside.  I came to say a prayer for my Grandma and Bits but was hoping you were here.  Thank you for being so kind.  And I think its okay to cry by yourself.  Mr. Ramos I can’t thank you enough for taking the time.”  

He gave me a gift.  A simple little gesture.  A cross.  

So I sit here finally putting these words together and realize that maybe it really is okay to cry.

God really does have a plan.  He puts strangers, people in front of you to make sure that you understand that life is not perfect.  

I dedicate this to AJ and his huge heart.  And on the contrary AJ, Thank you.  Thank you for making me believe in the human spirit.

Rick Ramos

The Great Empty

In one defining moment she gave wings and reason to fly again.  In truth, one split moment in time the realization of my heart knew why I loved her so much and why I hated her.  She made me believe to only cut the very wings she nourished back to health.

Such is the thought of the mind that believed it could finally reach the Great Euphoria.  One without doubt.  One whose meaning could be defined by actions of a heart.  Loyalty to one.  Respect to a heart that had endured the same beating.  Scars of life could be mended by one.

In life we try to live for a better reason, we learn to not repeat the mistakes, in fairness will leave the glass half empty.  To give each the freedom to breath and be a reflection of the mirror.  Wearing the scars of your life and share them in an unbridled freedom of trust.  ‘The fear is that she will not know how to understand this love.’

Never to feel the pain of hell but to enjoy a feeling of love.  For this natural high to fill the great empty inside.  Never to wallow in the misery of silence.  If the cold chill of a night could splinter the chapel walls then how could you ever find a glass that was always half full?

During a dinner date, she asked him for his thoughts on the most inconsequential thing.  “What do you think?”  He had to gather his thoughts for a moment, for during her conversation he was lost.  She was clueless that ever time he sat opposite of her, he could not believe the wealth of his life.  Captivated by the way her eyes glowed, her smile, the dimple that made him weak.  

That night when he walked behind her, a confidence of a human being so high.  Thrilling beyond reason, he knew his heart understood, he ached for the words that wanted to escape him.  He knew in his bones the eternal love inside.  Finally his life was not one of being half empty.

“Waiting is painful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worst kind of suffering.”  He needed to find a way to stand beside her to compliment her heart.  He searched for the time, 4:15am the phone said.  He could not sleep.  His mind was filled with so much emotion.  He turned and stared at her, in his quiet thoughts, he breathed the words, “Will you marry me?  I promise to be enough to always fill your soul when its empty.  To be more than you expect of me.  I love YOU!”

He quietly reached over and placed his leg over hers to feel her warmth.  Slowly with his Great Empty filling, he started to fall asleep.  A split second into his Great Euphoria, she punched him.  “Your snoring.”  That quickly his reality overflowed.

Rob Thomas wrote a song to describe the moment he knew his heart was no longer his.  “You're my reason for reason, the step in my groove, And if you said this life ain't good enough, I would give my world to lift you up, I could change my life to better suit your mood.”  It was during the recording of this song that Carlos Santana told him that he was screwed.  

First because the words he wrote could only describe a Latina.  Second because only a Latina could make a man change his life to better suit her mood.  While they both laughed Rob was suddenly scared about his life always being half empty.  He had finally met the one person who would fill his Great Empty.

The great loves in life all have a story.  Its inevitable that these stories have a defining moment when it doesn’t make sense but you know because the echo that existed in your heart no longer exist.  Life can easily spiral into a black hole where the past is never far.

In his final misery Richard Burton sat at his desk and wrote one of the greatest love poems in life.  When he was done, he re-wrote it after checking it for grammatical errors, for it was Elizabeth Taylor who would criticize his writing.  He carefully put it in an envelope, put a stamp, and mailed it to her. 

Later that night after going to the pub for a drink he would fall and eventually die from a hemorrhage.  It was not until after the funeral when Elizabeth got home that the letter finally arrived.  It was said that in it he wrote to her that he was finally coming home to his great love.  Folklore says that Elizabeth would read this letter every night before she went to bed.  

The Great Empty of two hearts never filled because of fear, pride, the anxiety of life.  Who knows the truth to this story, yet in her later years she always quietly anguished about the letter and what would have been.  Sure Elizabeth would re-marry again but her heart had been filled by a void never to have room again.  

A Shakespearean Tragedy befell them, married twice and on the verge of a third.  This love was eternal.  Understanding the romance of this befalls on the simple words of today.  “My life is better because you're a part of it, I know without you by my side that I would be different.”  

Finally in realizing The Great Empty today, can surmise with one final quote not by anyone I have read or studied but by my own.  ‘Im sorry I woke you up.  Did not mean to snore.’  Staring at her after she turned over the smile that filled my heart spoke to me.

Me

Just a thought.

“I Love You!”  An analogy of three words put together to have a meaning that defines one.  For some this is a difficult phrase others it is a term of endearment.  And for some it’s a sacred phrase.  

“I Love you Mom!”  A term of endearment, who doesn’t love their mothers?  Not a question to begotten but a statement to deliver a meaning of affection.  I realized early in life that my Mother was my soul mate.  Sure Sigmund Freud was a a couple of cards shy of a full deck but the man had an early insight.  

Early in life this woman, she always knew the right moment to lift the soul.  The day had been long, driving home from work stopped at the convenience store by the house to get my predictable coke and snickers bar.  The attendant would be the first to inform me of the death of my best friend from suicide.  

An inexplicable anger of wanting to jump the counter and hurt this person for such a violation of truth.  Stared at him to realize the hurt present in his eyes.  Left my car at the store and ran as fast as  humanly possible to my friends house.  Walking in the sound of tears, the hurt dripping from the walls, realization of what was in front quickly peeled layers of my youth much like a river running to the ocean takes life with it. 

Walked to my house crushed and there she was, arms outstretched, an embrace that 30 something years later I still feel.  “God has a plan.  Its not for you to judge, its for you to learn from.”  The love that escaped my heart to this day can only be described in the easiest of ways.  Mom.  This woman didn’t put a bandaid on my heart, she stitched it back together.

“I love you Pops!”  One day not long ago this lanky kid, walked up to me and just coined the phrase.  Who was he and what had he done with the adolescent child who I fought with daily?  The strength of those words.  The comfort of knowing that somehow I didn’t completely fuck him up.  

While quite the opposite of a sons love for his mother, his words were defining.  The words dripped with affection, such a strength of emotion.  The fact that my blood was circulating in him frightened me.   His were not words of endearment but rather a powerful statement of undying belief that no matter what, no one could ever break this bond.

“Rick, he is 40 days pre-mature.  We are going to have to do an emergency C-Section the umbilical cord is strangling him.  Blood pressure is down and his heart beat has slowed down and we are not sure if he will make it.”  At the precise moment my friend explained this, the splinters in my heart started gutting every ounce of who I was.  

Not to be denied I made my way to surgery made sure that if we lost him, would be able to see this gift from God breath life.  Smaller than my open hand he came to this earth, he was not breathing, his still lifeless body.  As my friend frantically worked on him, the emotions of being a father were overwhelming.  The tears of fear swelling in my eyes until I heard my mother’s words, “God has a plan.”  He finally screamed!  

“I love you Andrew.”  A child of just over 3lbs, in need of a haircut and shave, and a new form of love encapsulated my soul.  Here in front of me was this tiny person who in time through the highs and lows my blistering heart would never heal but only swell with pride.  “One man come in the name of Love!”

In the sunrise of my heart, while the scars collect to give memory to each etched moment, life has taught me that the meaning of “I love you” is always escalating.  I have loved.  I have experienced the pain of expressing this phrase and have also filled it with emotion.  

One day my heart with all its intricacies, wounds, bruises met a woman who with abandon filled an empty place inside of it.  Amazing is at the time I had given up hope of ever experiencing this truthful emotion.  I would never give myself away to anyone, was my belief, was perfectly lonely.  However my skin crumbled in her presence.  The blood ran faster and deeper than it ever had.  I could not understand or define the emotion much less her.  For the first time in my life I was afraid of Love.

“I love you!”  When the words escaped lips, my heart realized an honesty it had never experienced.  There she was, her eyes staring at me.  It did not matter to me if she felt the same.  This sacred phrase that had been bottled up and would never escape me again had been carved out by this beautiful soul.

The fear.  The loneliness.  Time does not heal wounds…people do.  The temple of those three words defined in moments as adjectives, nouns, verbs, were suddenly flowing out of me like a waterfall with no end.

“Why do you love me?”  A question no one had ever asked.  The insult was not that she asked but how could she not see or feel this raw emotion in me?  “God has a plan!”  I had met my match, my lady, my partner, my best friend.  

My answer has always skirted with the truth of that emotion, I now put it on paper.  YOU, make me want to be a better human being.  YOU, fill not a corner of my heart but all of it.  YOU, taught me to believe in myself.  YOU, have the right words when I don’t.  YOU, live inside of me.  YOU, are whom I want to wake up to the rest of my life.  YOU, are my today, my tomorrow.  I don’t want to wake up to anyone else's eyes.  

I Love YOU! The deeper meaning is not lost in the phrase, it's exposed in my eyes in all of me.  What have I learned?  Never ever bottle up the emotion that screams inside of you.  I have been to the mountain top and screamed  “I love you Teri!”  As for the answer to your question, it's inside of YOU! 

ME

Part Three: La Piel de un Hombre

This trilogy should have been titled Insomnia.  I battle sleep like the oceans battle the  full moon.  Quiet nights create a marathon of thought.  Riddles without answers and tomorrows without memory. 

Dark emotions ooze from a fissure in my soul.  Failure.  Fear.  Insecurity.  They lingered like an incurable cold.  Mix-matched puzzle pieces, stare into the shapes of a life and love.  Turning and twisting each piece to give it reason to fit.  I want to create a masterpiece from my empty heart. 

Could you stand on top of a Mountain and scream?  I did.  I heard the echo resonate through the valleys and carried by the winds. I closed my eyes and prayed it would reach your soul.

If you fall and feel the sting of the hurt, let my voice sooth your skin.  Let the warmth of my heart hold you together.  Let my love make your skin feel evening mist and morning dew.  Fall asleep to my heartbeat.  

Me