Sobre Vivir

Life had gutted Manuel Benavidez.  Memories were sharp.  With each morning sun he was painfully aware, a need to see the moon rise was what kept him going.  Grasping at straws with needful desires for his children.  Initially stumbling through the days but still with the responsibility of an army he woke up every morning and faced the day. 

Gilberto, Maria, and Dora were desperate for the warmth of their mother.  They longed to see her again, while Maria and Dora cried for her Gilberto grew angry if not resentful.  Confusion, anger, fear, emotions were fierce one second and absent another.  They were young children with a father who himself was dealing with a gigantic void who had no ability to be nurturing.

Every afternoon after leaving the fields Manuel would drive by to see if Florencia needed anything.  After the death of Domingo, he decided it was his responsibility to care for them.  Not only did he have his children to raise but that of his friend.  It wasn’t and obligation to him, instead it was just a natural occurrence of the heart.

Florencia for her part felt obligated to help Manuel, to reassure him that he could continue to live.  God forgave all was her firm belief.  Every morning she would wake up and make breakfast for the children, hers and Manuel.  She would walk them to the bus stop and see them off to school.  When Manuel would drop off his kids at the bus stop, she would have a sack lunch for him.  

In time this became the norm for them.  In the afternoons he would come by to pick up the kids and have dinner with them.  Their fractured lives had become complicit.  They tended to the emotional needs of the children as best they could, never truly addressing the void in their own hearts.  

Gilberto continued to struggle and became difficult to handle.  In Florencia he saw two shades of life, a woman that could be his mother.  She understood, listened and was patient with him.  Yet in her he also saw what he missed, his mother.   Never would she replace her, so befitting he would go through fits of anger and a resolve of adoration.

Maria and Dora found solace within each other and warmth with Florencia.  With her they found a surrogate mother who listened, showed them how to become proper women.  They learned how to cook, traditions were started.  The women understood that Florencia was not trying to be their mother, she instead was being their older sister.  

Their father for his part struggled with the children.  He knew how to provide for them, but now was left to figure a way to nurse their hearts.  That was always his precious Maria’s job.  Hugging and holding was not something imbedded in his character.  As the years would come and go it was apparent of the struggles he would have with them.

Servando was now the oldest of the Barrera kids and with it came a responsibility he felt was his.  He was now the man of the house.  For a brief period this was his belief then the anger would set in from what he felt was an intrusion from the man who took his brother from him.  A disbelief that this man was also at fault for his father not being there.  Servando loathed him.

Now this man was having coffee in the mornings with his mother.  He was having dinner with them.  She was creating lunch for them.  Important though, a disdain for Gilberto, Maria, and Dora who now also occupied his mothers time.  Disenchantment was not a word to describe his emotion.  A desolate anger seeded deep in his core would consume him the rest of his life.

Armandina had just turned 4 when her father had died.  What memory she had of him was dismal since he was always working.   She would run up and down with excitement when he was home.  She would wait patiently every afternoon for him to arrive so that she could tell him her day.  Then it stopped.  The anxiety soon was lost when Maria and Dora were around.  She found herself with sisters.  

Celedonio as the youngest was very instrumental as well with Dina.  This was his chosen name for Armandina.  She found herself helping her mother with him and along with the other girls she kept busy.  This in time allowed her to forget what she was missing.  

The years came and they went, children adjusted, yet Manuel and Florencia essentially had quietly become a surrogate couple.  In essence their lives revolved around each other, with Florencia caring and nurturing the children and Manuel working to provide.  The only missing was an emotional and physical connection for them.  

"Manuel tenemos que sobre vivir.  Se tiene que conocer la esperanza de mañana." Florencia was confortan Manuel.  The time had come to decide if they were going to pack up and head north.  As they sat outside late that evening, the kids asleep on the floor and sofa, they looked at each other with hesitation and guilt.  

Florencia reached over and placed her hand on tops of his.  She held it an soothed what ever fear he had.  He looked at her, scared, shaking, "Por que no se vienen con nosotros?"  The words had finally escaped him.  It had been weeks that he had been wanting to ask her to join them in Colorado.    As doubtful as he was, she smoothed her apron, stood up, told him the kids could spend the night.  She kissed his forehead and squeezed his hand and told him she would first pack his house and then hers.  That she would be ready in two weeks.  

Note:  I remember asking my grandmother when she knew that life had changed.  I wrote her quote, "Mijo, en esta vida el olvido total común no es posible.  La semilla de tristeza con agua crece el cariño.  Y el calor de amor no tiene acabó"

Nuestra Historia

Las espinas de el corazón 

En La Mañana

Domingo Barrera a man whose callous hands spoke volumes about his character.  From the day he was born being a man was providing for his family and friends.  A father of four children Jesus, Servando, Armandina, and Celedonio he took pride in being able to provide.  His young wife Florencia was the anchor, she balanced the children, her husband, and still contributed to the family by herself going out and working the fields with her husband. 

As a migrant family every year they traveled from a small town in South Texas to Fort Morgan, Colorado, Oklahoma, or anywhere they could find work.  No job was too much, they worked the beet fields, cotton fields, anything that would provide a roof for the families and food on the table.

When they were home in Elsa, Texas every morning he would sit and have his coffee with the soul that God put before him.  He could never understand why such a strong willed, beautiful woman had chosen him.  He was grateful and thus made sure to spend time with her every morning.  He would listen to her describe her days and the children.  It was the best part of his day.

Manuel and Domingo had become great friends, working side by side searching from sun up to sun down for anything to better their families lives.  Manuel for his part was considered a padrone, a man who was allowed a visa to go work the fields and take other families with him to be day laborers.  The Rodriguez’s was another family that would also join them for work.  

In some shape or form the families were related except the Benavidez.  Florencia was sister to Maria de Jesus, in time their baby brother Martin would marry Manuel’s oldest daughter Maria.  It was one giant migrant family.

Manuel had been offered a job in Sweetwater, Texas, much like anything they packed up their belongings and migrated north.  It was never a unique situation, this was life for the Mexican Gypsy.  They worked from sun up to sun down and did so with a pride as if they were working fields that belonged to them.  

One particular day the sun was blistering the fields, the heat was unbearable so little Jesus decided to go lay down under one of the trucks to escape the sweltering heat.  As he lay asleep Manuel needed to move the truck to better access the work they were doing.  In that split second as he moved the truck it went over what he thought was a bump.

He had run over Jesus Barrera.  He would for days lay in a hospital with mortal injuries.  The community of Sweetwater lined up to provide blood or anything that the family needed.  It would be days later that Little Jesus Barrera would die from his injuries.  Just like that the families had been crushed yet again.  

The devastation from the accident never once hindered any animosity from the families, it was an accident.  Manuel for his part was devastated.  He quietly felt that God was punishing him and cursed the skies at night.  It was the warmth of heart from Domingo and Florencia that helped him through this time.

Years later with Domingo’s health at a struggle the families still coping with such great loss started to see a sense of normalcy.  They once again were working the fruit warehouses in South Texas and migrating north to work the fields.

On a particular long day at the warehouse packing fruit, South Texas humidity was in full swing.   That abnormal hot and humid October day Domingo felt a pain in his stomach.  At first he thought that maybe he had indulged too much on the beers he and his friend Manuel had consumed.  He laughed to himself about the feeling of a late cruda.  He continued to work thru the discomfort and readily accepted his fate from the night before.

When he got home, took a shower then proceeded to skip dinner and laid down to rest.  He was still feeling the effects of the previous night.  Florencia prepared dinner but was concerned, Domingo never missed sitting down with the children.  She loved to see his face react to the outlandish stories that Servando and Celedonio would tell him.  Meanwhile the apple of his eye Armandina would take care of every whim for him.  It was after all his kingdom.

Sometime about midnight he felt a sharp pain that woke him from his sleep.  He put his shoes on and wandered outside to the out house.  He thought to himself that this was truly payback for the over indulgence of drinking.  Once he was back inside the house he didn’t realize that it was not a case of diarrhea but he was bleeding.  He sat at the kitchen table when Florencia walked in and asked him if he was okay?

He dismissed it as a late night with Manuel.  “Ya sabes mi compadre y yo tomamos mucho ante noche.”  She scolded him for drinking too much while warming up his dinner.  They sat together and talked about the week ahead and what they were going to buy the kids for Christmas.  He relished the love they shared and realized the tragic hardship that had beset his friend Manuel.  The loss of his wife, guilt of an accident that had taken his oldest son.  He felt overwhelmed with a love for everyone, staring at his wife he knew he had the perfect soul mate.

The next day around noon still not feeling well, unable to bare the pain anymore.  The pure fact and acknowledgement that he was suffering decide to call it a day of work.  This in itself was monumental for he never would leave or abandon work.  He had fought the flu several times while working, something this severe spoke volumes. 

Upon arriving home he informed Florencia about driving to Nuevo Progresso to see Doctor Ramirez.  He explained of a severe pain in his abdomen and was going to get a shot or medication to help ease the pain.  As was customary when any of them would get sick they would cross the border into Mexico to see the Doctor.  Health care was less expensive, most times Doctor Ramirez a family friend would help them with payments if not charge them at all.

After the examination Doctor Ramirez could not tell immediately what was wrong.  Initially he thought it was a tumor in his abdomen, maybe even cancer.  During his physical examination he felt a lump that was not normal.   Explaining to Domingo to see a specialist in Monterrey to better access what was wrong with him.   After explaining that he would make plans to go if he didn’t feel any better, Doctor Ramirez feeling a bit uncomfortable but trusted his friend would follow thru if he still felt bad gave him some medication to help with the pain.  

Several days later, still feeling the pain he had managed to work thru he suddenly felt light headed and passed out.  When he finally came too, his surroundings confused him.  He asked for Florencia but she was nowhere.  The nurse came in and tried to help calm him down by translating what had happened.  She was telling him that he had an aneurysm in his abdominal aorta.  He did not understand her and could not figure out what she trying desperately to tell him.  

The only thing that rung with him was that he was in a hospital in Houston, Texas.  It led to more confusion but for the first time he was not feeling any pain.  Oblivious that he was on a morphine drip  that numbed the pain.  

Several days later, his friend Manuel showed up to see how he was doing.  They talked briefly but Domingo determined that he needed to go home and get back to work.  He explained that he was better and no longer felt any pain.  Without recourse the two set in motion what would ultimately be his demise.  They left the hospital and drove home.

All the children were happy to see their dad home.  They catered to his whim but Florencia was nervous.  He looked pale, had lost a considerable amount of weight.  She kept in his words ‘chingando’ about how he felt.  She was a sight for his sore eyes, her beautiful hair, eyes, he longed to kiss her and make love to her.   

That night he lay in bed with her, attempted to be romantic but did not have the energy.  He kissed her and divulged how he knew she was his alma when they first met.  She stroked his hair and laid next to him.  He was her vida.  That would be the last time she would speak to him.  

En la mañana Domingo Barrera would not wake up.  He would die from a ruptured aorta aneurysm in his sleep.  Florencia was left to deal with three young children not too mention her desire to help Manuel with his young children after the tragic death of her friend Mary.  Florencia had become the patriarch of the Family.  

Note: My Grandmother was, is, and will always be the rock, glue, and stitches that kept our family together.  Her strength all those years have me at a loss for words.  Te extraño.

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