Resolutions Begin With Attitude

The New Year is a couple days away. Good ole 2014. A new year that is commercialized into making society believe that with the new year comes new lives, new change, new decisions, new resolutions. The truth of the matter is that the new year is really just tomorrow. It really is a new day. Today folds into tomorrow and yesterday becomes today. And honestly, all that changes is your attitude about life and the situation you wish to change. My brother faithfully believed in the Serenity Prayer which reads:

It wasn't until my later adult years that I learned to let the things out of my control, to roll off. As feisty and controlling as I can be, lol, I have learned. This is called humility. Humility opens a willowy window in your heart and releases some of the pride into a landscape of fearlessness and hope. It encourages you to have a clear perspective while respecting another or another's situation. And then you're humble. You're humbled by experiences that teach you a lesson you otherwise wouldn't have known had it not been for humility. 

As much as I may preach words of encouragement, it's a nasty challenge for to change my attitude and embrace what is now; a life without Charley. I can't do it. I can't admit that he is gone from this living life and quietly present with me as I struggle throughout the days and plea that this life, is not real. I cannot control what life is channeling down the pipeline for me, but I can control how I live my life. And truthfully, I look forward to dying- fantasize about it sometimes. As morbid as it sounds, it brings me peace. I equate peace with Charley. Peace is where Charley resides. Peace is the overwhelming sensation of serenity and calm, much like the senses my eyes and ears will envelope. Peace is feeling my brother in my life, and not just in my heart and head. Peace isn't just a place you seek, it's a tangible spirit within all of us. 

Grieving The Future

When you lose someone, you grieve the what if's. All the things you should have, could have, would have done differently. When it comes to the pain of losing my brother, the only thing I would've done differently is to cross his comfort zone and yank him out of his despair.
Charley is a very independent soul who did things the way he liked, traveled to the places he wanted, cooked meals for himself (and everyone) to the betterment of a healthy diet, spent hard-earned money on quality lifestyle items, pushed his own limits with envious tenacity, spoke what he felt needed to be heard and loved with such color that I fear I will never know that love again. It is because of his character that no one knew he was in the corner of the darkest place known to the mind. And no one knew because there was no need to share those thoughts with anyone, no need to ask for "help" even though that sounds like such a simple gesture. And when it comes to generalizing "anyone" I sometimes wish I were part of that segment so that all I know of Charley were nothing but good, happy feelings to the very last day. I, on the other hand, experienced his sadness and loss in his last few weeks and it's become such a thin line for me, in that I was privy to that deep world and also exposed to his facial expressions, his sadness, his weight loss, his half smiles, his empty laughter, his long gazes at Mia. I knew I was the only witness to a reflection I had never seen before, but didn't think he had fallen so far, so quickly. And for this, I guilt myself and blame myself for not having done more, pushed more, been more proactive, asked him more questions, held him longer, expressed anger in his defense. What I did was love him harder and be there for him. Just listen and spent more time with him in those last few weeks than I had in his last year. What I didn't do was judge and criticize and tell him that "everything will be okay", because I'm smart enough to know not to say such silly things to someone you openly embrace. Truth is, you hope for circumstances to improve, but you never know. It doesn't make me a pessimist, it makes me a realist.

With the holidays behind me and almost 90% avoided, I'm free to say that the easiest thing about the holidays for me, was to escape them. My family and I cannot bear the idea of staying in a place we call home but feel otherwise. Charley would normally work either Christmas Eve or Day, so we'd celebrate with him as a family on his day off. With the rest of our lives facing his days off, we cannot stay here, in his home or my parents home, without his presence. Could not stick around and watch others around us glee and chant their words of Merry and Happy. No, we needed to ditch L.A. and fly to a place where Charley spent a few days last year competing in the San Francisco Urbanathalon. He invited me last year to go cheer him on, but hotels were booked and it was expensive as a last-minute trip. So I didn't go, regretfully. Another regret.

As we explored the city with Charley in our minds, we were also very conscious that he was not with us. We didn't speak of him much, but we didn't have to; our faces were sad and longing. I experienced a flashback on the way to Ghiradelli Square and invisibly reached for my brother's hand and yearned to hear his voice- as I always do. My family and I were traveling away from home and creating new memories with one another, memories that didn't include my brother's jokes, his smile, his walk, his presence. And it pained me to my joints that my body grew tired from my longing for him. Nevermind the hilly hikes or 24/7 walking, my heart ached.
It's the past of 32 years that I have with my brother, but no future and no new memories to build and hang proudly on the wall to admire every now and again. The future is such a lonely realm that I wish I could pause time so that I don't have to face that pain. An everyday pain. And I despise the future because he obviously won't be in it with me anymore. Everyday I'm sad..it's my base feeling. Layered on top of that is pain, grief, denial, physical exhaustion, love for Mia, a little love for myself, rawness, worthlessness, low self-esteem and more sadness. Endless layers that I will eventually work though and adjust to. But for now, I'm perfectly comfortable believing Charley is here, still, so that I will continue to create memories with him.

The Heart and Mind Don't Always Communicate

It's not an easy task to be around people all the time, yet it's a lonely place to inhale the day with my lagging heart and the terror of reality.

Reality is waking up one day and facing the truth that Charley will never run up on me and tickle me as I swat his hands away and giggle in delight. I'll never have the opportunity to express how much his laughter fills my heart with relief and how the quick movement of his eyes assure me that he is always listening. The truth would signify the colors of my world will switch to a palette that is neither familiar nor daunting; but embrace the world I step out into and gently sweep away the pieces of my shattered heart. When I'm moving about and living in his home, I feel safe and free of all the prying thoughts and the dimension without Charley. I'm in a melancholic bubble of comfort and the deep-toned voice within the guarded walls of my fists. And I feel okay. Until I step out the front door and place one step in front of the other into black and white, and sometimes gray. The sound of my footsteps sound hallow and anything but firm. Shift, drag and rapidly move with a low tempo beat, unlike the music I once loudly listened to. My steps feel tired as my brain encourage my two left feet to walk, damnit, walk. They make it to the car to run errands, to the well-manicured green front lawn and seeded back yard, to and from the crumb-floored kitchen to Mia's beautifully well-lit room, and finally rest in the nook of Charley's cal-king bed. And no matter how much I force myself to move and step, time will not bring my brother back. Time will only numb the shock but not the harsh reality that I actively deny. And truthfully, even when I try to face the truth, it's still such an ugly truth, and is one I swat away like the annoying rowr of the cat he once had.

It's been three months now and not much has changed. At least I personally don't think it has. Just like the breakdown in communication that occurs in just about any social setting, my heart and mind play phone tag with one another, so the clarity of the message is distorted and difficult to convey. I won't say that I'm trying, because that would mean that I'm either pushing or defeated. I'm just...just. Living with the good-natured intentions of my brother's life and desperately aching for him to return and make my life whole again. He and I have a spiritual bond that envelopes that softest parts of our souls and the depths of our commitment to one another. I feel him racing through the beats of my pulse, the heat in my glands and the vibration of my blood.

Three Months Probation

My Dearest Charley,

I wish your loss were a 90-day probationary period where I have to prove I'm worthy of your presence by way of perseverance, loyalty and a soulfully connected intuition. After all, the life we have together is playing as a loop in my memories in and my thoughts. I am coming to grips with the idea that your loss is not my fault, but I hold myself guilty for not extending myself to talk longer, stay longer, visit longer, love longer. Although these regrets may not have changed the outcome, at the very least, you would have been selflessly given more time to release and feel anything but alone. You are loved by so many, yet all those "many" people have moved forward. Grief so obviously lasts longer than sympathy. I could care less that people have tapered off of me, but it hurts that they seem to have tapered off of you as well. I hurt for you, I cry for you and I'm in pain for you even though you are at peace now.

I admit that I intentionally play pretend half of my day. While I'm driving I pretend it's like any other day pre-losing you, as I try to sing along to a song or completely surrender to Mia's laughter and existence. I tell myself to keep your floors as clean as possible and am anal about sweeping up my hair strands off the bathroom floor because I know how much you hate my hair everywhere. I make promises to you and assure you that I'm doing the right thing in hopes that you'll come home and tell me how proud you are of me. Even today while at work, I conjured up the conversation I'd have with you about the challenges I may face on a new team or the stressors that come with a new working environment. And I realize that the word "still" is the current bain of my existence. I'm still in denial, I still replay that day in my head at least three times a day, I still cry everyday, I'm still angry with a few folks who have abandoned you and our family, I still haven't accepted that you're gone and I still think you're alive...and just not home.

Three months feels like it's been three years yet it's so fresh as yesterday. Time alternates between crawling and sprinting. This is the time when life is throwing itself in my face and showing me that it continues, yet I want nothing to do with life if it doesn't offer you as a benefit. I despise life and have turned my back on it while I struggle not to turn my back on our family, or Mia or my struggling faith. I wake up with the immediate thought of you, my last words of the day are for you as I tell you good night, and all my in-between is reserved for my tedious sanity and the drive to live for Mia.
Mia who has grown and stretched so very quickly. I imagine you marvel at her development and are far from surprised how intelligent, silly and feisty she is- she's a great combo of us both. She's a wondrous Lopez gift and I know you enjoy basking in her love for life and for you. Nino is one of her favorite words and I often wonder if she knows you are gone in terms of unseen and not living here in your home. I'm saddened that she speaks a word she can't visually connect but simultaneously fills me with admiration that she is in fact connected to you, still.

I pray to see you one illusive night when Mia awakens me with her cries and I'm loopy from lack of sleep. I hope to turn around and see you sitting in your chair, in the corner of her room, smiling at me and surround me with such enforced love that I am sure you will never leave. I'm waiting. I will wait my whole life.

I love you with all I have,
Yolie

Life Is Divided Into Two

I used to have a life that was predictable. Wake up by the sound of Mia asking for Elmo, feed her, feed myself, get ready, start day, run around, dinner, feed Mia, bathe and put Mia to bed, exhale, and finally clean house until I'm depleted of all energy.
In between those days I'd spend time with Charley exercising, having lunch together, cooking for one another, just being present..and those alone times with him were rare because I always have Mia. But then again, he loves Mia like she were his own and the three of us would spend hours together. We were a unit- the three of us. Charley and I...we were one.
"Now" I have a life without my brother's loving presence and voice. Mia aside, life is pretty gray and feels empty. This is called the second half of my life. This is the aftermath of having no choice but to someday accept that Charley's hugs and laughter will never be tangible again except for the memories stuck on replay and imaginary conversations I have with him. And I have a lot of them; from what I'm doing at any given moment to telling him how I feel and what my plans are. I even argue with him and talk back or interrupt what he might say to me. I miss his adamant tone and confident nature. I miss looking at the male version of my reflection. I miss having my role model in my life. I miss my brother.

Missing my brother generates a hundred different thoughts and feelings, but absolutely none can express how I feel. Even if I were to sync all the words: difficult, hard, challenging, painful, devastated, tragic, unfortunate, desperation, sad, hurt, etc, etc...words don't rightfully describe my state, nor do words comfort me. Not anyone's faith or assurance. Not a poem or happy memory. But I do find seconds of comfort by smelling his worn shirts, driving his truck and pushing on the gas when a dip intercedes, burying my face into his jackets, staring at his shoes and picturing when he last wore them, flipping through his books and pretending to be his eyes, standing at the kitchen stove cooking a meal and envisioning him wash the dishes and finally, picturing him sitting across from me on the living room sofa, smiling at me. That's my favorite. Him smiling at me.
Keeping Charley in my heart and in the forefront of my thoughts, seems to have also stimulated my magnetic field of energy. Losing him to suicide comes with a natural responsibility to help others. It's simple- I couldn't save him so I will try to save others via Charley. Case in point: over the last 24 hours I have been placed in front of two people who spoke to me about their suicidal experiences. One is a mother who confided in me that her son unsuccessfully tried to overdose three months ago- and she told me this even before I told her how Charley passed. Again, I fought for her son with my words of encouragement and honesty. Pushed her to think positively and not to buy into the ignorance others had bestowed upon her that her son is a coward and selfish. Later that night she sent me a message that she cried all the way home during her drive with me in mind and feels so thankful that her son is alive.
This afternoon I went to visit Charley at his grave site and cried, as I always do, and asked for forgiveness. A young man sat a few rows down mourning his own loss. He came over to me to offer words of comfort, and within a few seconds we each realized we knew each other some 14 years ago. Within that minute, he dropped to his knees and held me as I cried in his arms and released with someone I so obviously needed at the moment. It was a very touching moment as he opened up and admitted to me that he, also, feels empty and has dark thoughts but confides in no one in fear that he will be seen as weak. I offered every thought I could as he sat patiently with me and my sobs. And then he said, "You won't believe this, but you just changed my life". Was that fate that intervened? Was it divine intervention? Was it Charley who asked me to visit at the same moment this young man was there? I would've easily kept driving home past the cemetery and I would've missed this very special encounter. And I am so blessed that I made that sharp left turn into Charley's open arms. He is saving lives, still, and I am helping him.

The Family Behind the Face

I like to think that everyone who knows my brother, misses him in their own ways and moments. Someone may think of him as they pound through their weekly jogs, competing in an Urbanathalon as he did so many years, walking their dog, having a beer, watching American Horror Stories, making big decisions, or simply being thankful for having being blessed with his life.
Charley's smile comes to mind before the rest of his face does. His well-defined eyebrows follow in close second with his almond-shaped, starry eyes placed precisely below and his deep dimples in third place. When Charley smiles, so does his whole body. Have you experienced this type of presence? Where you're always met, even upon a first introduction, with a firm handshake, a genuine interest and the sight of someone whom you JUST KNOW is amazing and impactful?
I think back on all the stories and experiences he shared with me and how every story was spoken with such glory and sincere interest. Just by speaking and listening to his tone, I always felt like I was learning great lessons and insight. And his laughter...boy...could he laugh with his whole soul. Just imaging him laughing makes me smile.

And behind this wondrous soul lies a family of four more individuals who continue to remain devastated and at a loss. We are a family of Mom, Dad, Sister, Niece/Goddaughter and myself who try to live without his physical presence but refer to him as naturally as his memories flow. Everything is "Oh, Charley does that" or "Charley would say...or do....or be....". We keep him alive. And we all do so with love in our thoughts and mercy at our hands. Love gracefully falls from our minds, down our faces in the form of pain and tears, finds its way down our chins and onto our chests where we're tugged and pulled by the reality that our favorite person, is no longer here with us. My heart hurts beyond what words can convey. And I try and try and try. But the thought of living the rest of my life without my Charley is unbearable. Who is going to love me like he does? Who is going to reassure me and teach me and guide me and discipline me and comfort me and nurture me and tell me I'm his everything?
In the beginning I was afraid because I could no longer touch him. I can picture the pores on his face, his moles, his long skinny fingers, the hairs on his arms, him blinking, the bruises on his toes from running a lot...so much so that he's still very real to me. I can smell his breath, still. He is my constant, my daily, from the first day of my life my brother never left my side. And I can tell you, he is still here with me. He is.
For me, though, my grief has created so many insecurities. I feel like a lost girl running about an empty flatland of dead grass, compressed dirt and no sunshine. I feel worthless without him and unsafe in this new world. Its amazing to me how much he impacts MY life.
My parents, are parents. I look at them and their faces and cannot imagine how they feel losing their only son and eldest child to a far-fetched emotion. How they wish they could have swept him in their arms and rocked him into a safe place. Mom plays strong matriarch even though I urge her to release and feel her pain. And she is angry in her every right. I applaud her commitment to that anger because she deserves to fight for her son and be fiercely hateful at the trigger that callously pushed him over. Dad is stoic, quiet and silently grieves. He's the man who doesn't say much but the sad droop in his shoulders and the weight he drags behind him very clearly shows me that he's in too much pain to say anything. He can't even formulate a sound to express his anguish. Sister is just now coming around to his loss. She kept quiet for over two months and said nothing but isolated herself within the walls of remorse and speechlessness. Sometimes I look at her and know that there's just two of us left. Just two girls and no boy. So effen incomplete. And Niece...oh Mia. She's the guiding force in our empty unit. She makes us laugh, cry, and reach for the remaining life we all dread to live. Without her, we'd be lifeless people moving about each other as short-circuited robots.
Thank God for family. Thank God my brother has us as his solid foundation. Thank God for him.

Grief Toolbox

Fear, insecurity, unsafe feelings and navigating unknown territory sound like emotions you can never feel until you feel them. This potpourri of emotions can occur with any type of loss: a job, a romantic relationship, a scorned friendship, bad news, bad life, a severed limb. Losing someone you love to death, whether expected or scathing shock, is a loss like no other. The severity of your devastation is based on your closeness to the lost loved one. Though we all know death is a fact of life, we also never expect to lose someone we deeply love. We may think of how torturous life would be like without that someone, but you don't know torture until you're on the tortured end.

With the holidays here and in my face every time I leave the house, I am reminded of how much my brother loves the holidays and how he's not here to inhale all the happy visuals showering us on the radio or in the streets. I, for one, am managing. Everyday I reach for Charley. I put up his Christmas house lights that hang as beautiful ice blue icicles and border his loving home with the look of peace and festivity. Bright red poinsettias adorn his windows with Firefighter Nutcrackers guarding intruders and welcoming smiles. A tree was purchased tonight for Mia, and while I'm so excited to decorate it, I'm also deeply saddened by the reminder of his picture from last year on Facebook.

Invitations are trickling in for gift exchanges and luncheons as are inquiries regarding what my family and I are doing for the holidays. Funny thing though, no one has really wished us a "Happy" anything. Which I appropriately appreciate- we're not happy nor are we merry or jolly or festive. We just are. I move through each day with an incredibly heavy heart and Mia as my visual guide who encourages me to love...even if it's literally one day at a time. I'm here, so I must be living.

So in search of any guiding force, I've come across an array of tools and suggestions on how to smartly combat the damned holidays. While I am no Scrooge, I'm definitely not sure how I feel about brightly colored ornaments, Rudolph or The Meaning. One thing I have begun to explore, is God. I think of Him everyday with curious thoughts in my mind and the drive to have faith. I want to be the person who tells me to, "Find peace and comfort in knowing Charley is no longer suffering and is free form his restraints here on Earth". I want so badly to be on the giving end of that faith and sure confidence. One thing I'm 100% sure about: there is a God. You may call him Allah, Buddha, The Almighty or simply Our Creator, but he exists in all of us. And he proves that we are not alone. And alone is not something a grieving person should have to do during the holidays. Below is a "Bill of Rights" and how I/we/anyone) has/have a right to do:

• To feel what you feel and be politely honest with others about it. If you do not feel merry, cheerful or otherwise, festive then say no
• The right to not share your feelings if you would rather. "I'm fine" is okay to say
• To not go to parties or family gatherings where your loved one and your grief are not welcome
• To take time for yourself, whether this is a walk alone, a day in bed or some other momentary escape
• To cry when it hurts, laugh when something is funny and to smile when you're happy and not feel guilty about any of it
• To have your loved one remembered in a way that is meaningful to you
• To change your mind over and over again during any get together, event or party. You may not know what you can or can't handle until faced with it.
• To change traditions when necessary or desired. Traditions are supposed to bring comfort, not distress
• To enjoy your holidays. It doesn't mean that you've forgotten or are being disrespectful. Loving life is a wonderful way to remember your loved one.
• To try again next year if this year it doesn't turn out the way you comfortably feel

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Mad At Life

Anger is one of the five stages of grief, as North American Psychologists have argued. Though my argument is that grief is not one-size-fits-all where we all follow a specific pattern of emotions. Feelings, much like my own, fluctuate. Some days I'm just okay and others I'm crying periodically and can't shake the overwhelming denial of losing my brother. I have triggers that will take me back to the traumatic day of suffocating my cries and wanting to go blind at the same moment. The sound of sirens wailing from the rescue used to soothe me; for I related that sound with Charley. Now, I hear them all day and each time I hear the boys roaring down Inglewood Avenue, I automatically think they're coming to the house to aide my brother who I knew instinctively could no longer be saved. My stomach turns and my heart palpitates. And my breathing gets short. And I'm taken back to THAT DAY. Do you know what it's like to live with flashbacks? Do you? There's no pity party here...I am being truthful and raw.
The anger I feel is towards life. I'm so mad at life for taking my brother and deciding his life was over. Why didn't life intervene and help him through his last six weeks of depression and despair? Why didn't life give Charley an out and provide him with the assurance he so unconditionally deserved? Why did life beckon him to walk down a path of loss and derailed emotion?

My brother is a very controlled individual. He is strong in his tongue and in his mind. Very collected. And one day, a bitch of an obtrusive shadow came down on him without hesitation or compassion. Selfish and guarded, it crushed his spirit and never looked back. I wish I could change that encounter and juggle the representative, who, much like a magician, misdirects and before you know it- poof! The magician is gone with illusions as its core and your disbelief thrown into its pile of tricks.

The last person I am angry with is my brother. He is not to blame because it was his illness that steered him into taking his life. This illness took complete control of his thoughts and logic, and left my Charley emotional and out-of-sorts. This is what pains me most- that my brother, stoic and brave, became another brother. A brother I would never recognize. A brother that didn't exist. A brother that didn't plan his last day. A brother, whom one of his ex-girlfriends compassionately said to me as we sat at his plot together, "Charley didn't plan this. He loved you too much. He would never leave you". It's true. My brother would never leave me. That's how I know he didn't intentionally want to take his life. He didn't want to leave. He didn't want to die. I know, as I always have, that I meant everything in his world to him...he loved me so deeply that when I was with him, I was his focus. My life, my future, my daughter, was his interest--despite anything he had on his burner at the moment. That no matter what, he loves me. Non-judgmental and uber-tenacious brother. I have just the one.

The Pressure to Be Thankful





Thanksgiving 2012
 

Expectations get you in trouble. Someone always fails or is disappointed. A sincere attempt is always made not to have expectations of situations or people--I'm human, I have standards and I can't help it. And so everyone who has tapered off from me and my family by now, I'll admit that it really hurts, but I expect people to move forward. I don't expect to be comforted until my pain goes away, because my pain will never go away. After all, the true loss is being experienced by his day-to-day family. All we need is a genuine effort to just be with us...though that is very difficult for so many people. We have family members whom we haven't heard from since the funeral, his department brothers who haven't reached out since they laid him to rest and close friends who haven't uttered a word to me.

 

With that said, Thanksgiving is a time to be thankful and grateful for all the luxuries and blessings in life, though that sentiment should occur throughout a calendar year. It's a time for feasting and gathering around a table to celebrate harvest. This year however, and everyday following, is more than difficult to rejoice. This is what is clear:

Yes, I have my family and Mia, but I don't have my brother HERE in his physical form
Yes, I have memories of last year when we celebrated here at his house and he carved a turkey and we jump roped to Invisidutch
Yes, I have a life and I should live it
Yes, he'd want me and my family to celebrate and not be depressed
Yes, I have a lot to live for

blah...blah...blah...blah...blah...blah...blah..................

It's not easy to celebrate because everyone wishes us to or because the U.S. calendar has a national holiday we adhere to. We simply can't celebrate Thanksgiving and we shouldn't have to. Nor should we have to celebrate Christmas (that conversation will come in a month). For now, and for always I am thankful for one thing:

I am thankful God gave me Mia. Her purpose is for me to survive my brother's loss. Without her, I would be in the same dark place Charley was in his last hours. This, I recognize.

I couldn't see my daughter for at least the four weeks following his death- couldn't feel her, couldn't see her angelic face pleading for my attention, couldn't hear her laughter, couldn't feel her embrace and I certainly didn't understand. Now I do. I often sit in front of the mirror and stare at myself just to see my brother and stare into a very similar pair of eyes. I get up close and personal and cry so that I can see him crying and I can feel his pain. I've always been so proud to look like him and now I am even more grateful that I do because I get to see him live through me and my reflection. Life is so lonely without Charley even though I'm surrounded by love. And even though I don't feel what a lot of you feel today or during the holiday season, I will get there someday someday someday someday someday.

Surviving the Holidays

Last week my parents and I went to a seminar at a nearby South Bay church called Journey of Faith which my brother's extremely close friend invited us to. During the two-hour seminar, we watched a video of testimonials whom share their own grief and experiences, along with coping skills and tools. We were also divided into two groups to speak amongst a smaller circle. "My name is Yolanda and I lost my brother two months ago". I listened to others cry and share their very similar feelings of loss and anti-holiday sentiments. My parents cried, saying that they don't feel the holidays- they don't care. And truthfully, neither do I.

I moved into my brother's house a month ago with both the encouragement of the positive people in my life and the nay sayers who thought (and still think) "how could she? he died there." Charley is not going to haunt me. There's such a significant difference between haunting and visiting; haunting causes distress and anxiety and disturbance. This is real-life, people. Charley doesn't drop items, slam doors and walk down the hallway ferociously banging metal chains against the wall. He is a spirit who protects Mia and myself, who has engaging conversations with Mia and makes her laugh, a soul who wraps his energy around me and comforts me when I cry and plead for him to return. Most of the time I talk to him and hope he'll reply.
The things I do to experience a visual presence are so silly: As I bathe I write his name "Charley" on one of the glass shower walls and ask him to reply with "Yolie", I intentionally leave pennies laying around or items out-of-place so that he can move them, I intently stare at my hanging lanterns to see if they sway, I stare into the darkness (which I'm now terrified of) and strain my eyes to see him swiftly glide by. ANYTHING. I'll take anything.

My brother loved the holidays and always looked forward to Christmas even though the shift he was on at the station usually had him working the holidays. Last year we spent Thanksgiving here at his house for the first time in seven years. Thankfully we took pictures and snagged a video of him...thank God we did that. It's our last Thanksgiving with him. For the Christmas holidays, he bought a tree, decorated it and placed it in front of his huge dining room window, posted a picture to social media and exclaimed, "I loved the holidays!". He was so proud of his tree. He hadn't purchased one until last year and he purchased his house four years ago. Do I put a tree and lights up? Do I celebrate for Mia and for him? Would he want us to mope and sadly skip the holidays? No, he wouldn't. We will try to do what we can. But Thanksgiving....it's in 5 days and we don't even care. We're thankful for each other, but how are we supposed to sit around a table and see that Charley is missing? HOW??!!!

I'm Idle, Not Suicidal

Death is so final. It's absolute. There's no coming back from it...no "I changed my mind" or "maybe that wasn't such a good idea". When someone takes their last breath and they see the dimension they're drifting off to, they move forward and they are gone from this Earth-bound life with us. Believe me, I wish death weren't so final so that I can call my brother and tell him not to take his life.
"Charley! I have so many resources (as if he didn't know about them) and have so many answers. I will help you surface and use all my strength to save you". If only...

The week of my brother's death and the heavy days leading to his funeral services, I was mute and lifeless. I remember people coming to my parents house and I felt them hugging, holding and talking to me, but I was deaf. My eyes were downward-facing, my head hung as though I had no spine and a force was pulling me to the floor. I wanted nothing more than to be told none of this was real. The day we chose his plot at the cemetery, it felt like buying real estate. The far back was the most affordable, the center was the most desirable and expensive, so we chose a median which I visit every other day. It's peaceful and quiet and it's deep and vibrant like the colors in my brother's heart.

Surreal wasn't the word. It was more like a hypnotizing trick that I would never come out of. And it was frightening. All the emotions and thoughts I had been having began to swell and turn with such paralyzing force that I, too, began to have suicidal thoughts. "I can't live without Charley. I can't do it." At the time it didn't matter that everyone was encouraging me to think about Mia. My anguish was so bottomless that I couldn't fathom coming back up. I had many many nights of desperation and dark confusion. My only refuge was to be with my brother. I had two choices: get through this (which seemed impossible at the time) or take my own life to be with him. If he could do it, so could I. BUT, my thoughts never sought out the action. I never thought HOW to do it- all I wanted was the relief of seeing him again.

One night, I felt so overwhelmed with tears and panic that it occurred to me in that same moment that I was experiencing a fraction of what Charley had felt. A fraction. And it scared me. And I felt him tell me to calm down and rationalize. Breathe, Yolie, Breathe. So I did, I breathed. I breathe everyday.

I began therapy so that I can have an open forum to say and feel whatever I want with absolutely no judgment placed on me. Guidance to help me healthily grieve and a coach to push me in a brighter direction. It's not an easy journey--in fact, it's a long one assembled with high highs and low lows and the occasional "meh" days. I'm very conscious of how I'm living, but I'm also very honest with myself (as I've always been) about the realities of my feelings. I don't expect to be fine by now or in a year...I truthfully don't expect anything. I'm just being me. Taking the time for me. And doing as best I can with how I feel.
I'm also on homeopathic medication called 5-HTP which is a precursor to serotonin and helps to produce melatonin, Holy Basil which protects the body from stressors that can cause inflammation in the nervous, endocrine and immune systems. As a nice addition to my cocktail, I sometimes take a droppersful of Kava at night to restfully sleep. I actually tried the legit organic root while I vacationed in Fiji six years ago. I have to say, it works so well. I don't feel lethargic, groggy or drugged. It's simply soothing.

At the suicide walk, a suicide loss survivor spoke one poignant statement that resonated within me,
"When you lose someone you love so deeply to suicide, all of a sudden, all the people close to that person become suicidal as well". I thought, Aha! I'm not crazy. I'm not the only person thinking this way. However, once I heard that, my gears shifted into neutral and I began to slowly push on my gas pedal of survival. I will get through this season of clouded affection and misplacement. It'll take some time, but I'm still me. I'm still Yolie. I'm just a different Yolie. Fiercely loving my daughter more than I did before, embracing my family with such comfort and support, and tenderly appreciating my friends.

Two Months Too Long

My Dearest Brother,

I washed your truck today and made it shine so brightly that the evidence of your passing 60 days ago looked like a glint in the rear view mirror. As I cleaned the dirt and gunk that accumulated and clouded your sight, I thought deeply about how self-sufficient you are. How every time I need something for the house or for myself, you have it. My organization and cleanly skills pale in comparison to your pro-activeness and ever-ready traits. I feel like a fool in my own shadow and I'm completely fine with it because I have you as my inspiration. You. Always have but now that I'm throwing myself into you, I see the bar has been raised.

After washing your truck, I drove it to the cemetery to visit you. Seems silly because you're always with me, but I wanted to take your truck to you to say, "See, it's clean!! And I used all your tools and gadgets and didn't spend a penny!" (beaming with pride). It was very early in the morning and I was the only visitor in the entire lot. So I did what I've been wanting to do and screamed as loudly as I could. I heard the pain echo against the mausoleum walls and cross the wet, dewy grass and bounce back into my lap. It felt so good to scream again. To scream as loudly as I did when I found you.

Friends and family got together today in your memory~ celebrated you and all that you are to each of us. Stories were exchanged along with sorrows and the very present feeling of lingering shock. I'm still in shock. I still wait for you everyday and hope you'll come home in your physical form even though I know you're not alive....I still wait. I clean your house everyday in the very same manner you might. I buy the foods you eat and cook the meals you enjoy--all very sensible and healthy. I warn Mia against touching "Nino's things" and how you wouldn't like her to play with them. The other day I opened up the pantry and threw out all the snackages you would disprove of when you came home. In the trash they went. I live my life sometimes as though I'm you. Decisions are made based on what you might want because I know you so damn well. Your thoughts are my thoughts and I have to be careful not to get lost in you. But it makes me feel closer to you. It's the only way I know how to feel you--when I'm in pain and sad--which is everyday. I don't have "good days", I have "ok days" or "really bad days". Extremes.

People have encouraged me to accept your loss and live my life but it's too early. You once told me, "there is no timeline for grief" on a day when I apologized for seemingly judging you and encouraging YOU to move forward and not backwards. Funny how a lot of the advice we exchanged to one another has surfaced and I'm eating my own words. Even then, I can't move on yet. It's too fresh and a lot of people don't understand me...and I will accept that you're gone when I feel it's time. Right now I'm simply doing what I feel is right in my heart and not in my mind. You and I are so much alike. I love it.

Love your sis,
Yolie

Seeking Serenity

No matter how diligent I am, how defiant I am with my brother's loss, the people I speak to, the people who don't want to speak to me, I will never know what happened during Charley's last hours.
The first couple of weeks, I was numb with shock and in an emotional place I never thought I'd find myself in. I always thought I'd go first- I had a terrible fear of getting into a car collision on the freeway. I WOULD GO FIRST because Charley and my family could handle my loss. I wouldn't be such a tremendous loss. My brother, on the other hand, would die of old age, not because of deteriorated health, or perhaps perish in the line of duty. Those two are acceptable. Suicide? Taking his own life? His own precious, impressive, strong-willed, infectious, lovable, selfless life? No way. Absolutely not. Never a thought in my mind. Never a thought in his own life until he thought about it his final night.
I've read countless articles and facts on suicide. Spoken to professionals, knowledgeable individuals, suicide survivors, families of suicide victims. VICTIMS. My brother, and anyone who commits suicide is a victim to the illness. At the opening ceremony of the suicide prevention awareness walk, the MC spoke one very true statement: "Suicide victims have an illness- a chemical imbalance. They do not go from happy-go-lucky to taking their life in one day." That is a fact. Charley hadn't been sleeping well~ sleep deprivation played a huge role in his demise.

I've stated this before in a previous blog, but it helps me to repeat this over and over again. The logic helps me make sense of his illogical death. Charley swam against the waves, swam against the current as hard as he may. He kept swimming without the thought of calling for a life saving device because he didn't know he needed it. He was a firefighter. He'd been on suicide calls. He knew what the signs and precautions were. He didn't ever believe he'd take his life.

I spoke to a medium three weeks after his death and she provided some jaw dropping experiences. Shared a few things with me that she couldn't have known.
Then I saw a Reverend, who is straight and honest and provided a realistic perspective~ Charley sought MY love and insight and companionship. Mine. "There was nothing you could do. You did everything a loving sister does. He knew that. Specifically you."
Next was a spiritual pastor who encouraged me to "snap out of it" and create a spiritual relationship with my brother. To put away his clothes and belongings (not give them away) because the material things "are not Charley".
I also spoke with Charley's Captain whom I won't be seeking support or comfort from anytime soon- "You are the female version of Carlos and your presence is very powerful. Very. It's like seeing a ghost and it freaks people out. So when you come in and you're crying, we don't want to say anything. We freeze. Don't want to add to your pain". Needless to say, we both agreed that I should stay away from his home away from home, his extended family, his life of nine years. Wow, I should stay away.

People grieve differently and process in their own unique way. Grief is not like mine or my parents or his closest friend. I don't expect people to feel just as I do but I do expect my closest people to listen and try their best to be patient. Just listen. Just be there. Even if I'm not crying and talking about Charley. I would do the same for anyone. Anyone.

Channeling Charley

I went almost 45 minutes today without thinking of my brother because I was so absorbed by Mia's presence and the fun she was having in her first day of music class. As I danced around the class with a tambourine in my hand and moving my hips to a big band swing song, I watched my daughter gleefully stomp her feet and smile with such life that I forgot all about my pain. Then I paused and consciously thought, "I haven't thought about Charley", and then I was thinking of him. Duh. Then I thought, "You're here, too, and I'm sure you're enjoying me and Mia outside of you loss for once". And I proceeded to bask in Mia's life.

A couple weeks ago a friend of mine called me in a tearful panic, reaching for me while trying not to take away from my own pain. His own nephew tried, and failed, to commit suicide. My mind tipped over and I lost my balance. It dizzied and all the fright and fear I felt weeks ago, surfaced and was placed in my lap via the other end of the phone. Think, Yolie, think. I shoved my personal feelings behind the door I've held open for all to see, and focused on him and his family instead. Out poured all the resources and questions and warnings I could think of. Everything I feel I should've done with Charley, I acted with this family and nurtured my friend as best I could with words of fierce encouragement and straight talk. This would not be an easy feat, heck, no feat in sight for some time. If I could reach through the phone and shake all my post-suicide awareness knowledge onto him, and knead it into his skin so that he reeks of salvation and rescue, I would.
I anxiously awaited a call. A visit. Offered to personally talk to his nephew to provide insight and hardcore perspective. I was willing to answer almost anything, by sharing honesty and a loving attitude. The next day the family had him hospitalized and evaluated. And I received the following message:
"You helped us save his life. I cannot thank you enough. There are no words for how grateful both my sister and I are to you. We both would have been directionless without you. I mean that from the deepest part of my heart and soul".

I. Helped. Save. Someone's life.

It's bittersweet. I'm numb with envy and electrified with relief. I couldn't save Charley, but I channeled my thirst for comprehension and I channeled Charley's energy. Thank you, bro. Thank you for helping me save someone else. I couldn't have done it without you.

People Judge Because They Don't Understand

Charley taught me what it takes to process and grieve. He would walk me through logic vs. emotion and how the latter affects and clouds your judgment. "think logically" he would say. "Logic first, emotion second". It took me years and several situations to grasp his mind of all masters and look to him for objective guidance. Never weary, never judgmental, Charley would provide two sides of the spectrum, what was best for me, and how to bite my tongue and choose battles. "You're level-headed" is what he recently told me. I like to think so. I'm not quick to judge, I'm compassionate, patient, loving, sometimes selfish, and anything but uptight. My brother shaped me and always always always allowed me to make my own decision with very little weight from his own opinion. Or if I'd go to him with an issue he'd politely ask, "Do you want my opinion?" before unleashing any unwarranted insight. He respected me and everyone he knew. And if I wanted sound input- Charley was the man.

It's taken me weeks to try to comprehend HOW his mind made up his mind. How emotion superseded logic in his darkest hours, when he always taught me NOT to do that. Depression hit him so quickly he never came out of it. It took a matter of weeks for my uber-strong of a man to fall, stagger, push push push and never get back up. A trigger that was unforgiving and selfish. A trigger that hit him by surprise. A trigger that my brother, of all men, did not deserve.
Do you know that there are two types of depression? Situational vs. Neurological. I have both. My brother had both. I envision him living life with an invisible boulder on his back. Living as if that boulder is normal. I mean, come on, we ALL have baggage and some sort of depression to some extent. Who hasn't thought of leaving this life at one point of another. That thought is honest and normal.
Charley hadn't been sleeping very much, so in steps sleep deprivation. Situational depression is self-explanatory. Neurological Depression is a chemical imbalance. It has to do with the chemicals your brain isn't creating--all the "feel good" chemicals like epinephrine, endorphins, serotonin. Charley had a combo. No physical rest, no brain rest, no "feel good" chemicals, working out twice a day to exhaust himself, social social social, upbeat, positive and fighting. Fighting for a life he loved. If you know him, and I mean really know him as an individual (and not on the surface), and know him as a skilled and trained professional, then you can easily gather that he did everything LOGICAL he could think of to feel good. But when all the "feel good" chemicals were absent, how was he supposed to get through his quick-mannered depression? How?

What the general population does is judge. People judge because they don't understand. People who take their lives are cowards, losers, pussies, easy out, etc etc. Charley was none of those things. And fuck everyone (I'm entitled to anger and will not be swayed by insensitivity) who say ignorant and crude comments like that. Suicide victims do not want to die, they just want relief from the pain. RELIEF. Their pain and anguish is so desperate that they see no other way out. None. No matter how much we love them, no matter how much they have to live for, no matter their awesome careers and striking good looks. None of that matters. Only relief does. A pure dark moment of both courage and surrender. In that scary moment of sadness and irrationality, Charley took his life. Charley was embraced by God and my father and all the dearly departed. He had a relationship with our Lord while alive and even stronger in spirit. Screw all religions that state my brother went to Hell. We have a merciful God,  forgiving God. A God that opened his arms to my brother and welcomed him home as he encouraged, "Finally. I've been waiting for you". That's what I believe and that's all that matters. My faith. Charley's faith.

He Is What You Know

 

Man. My brother dressed up for 5K's and competitions and beer fests or just for fun. He was that guy. He was the life of the party. The guy who would get the dance floor started. The one who would create fun out of nothing but laughter and jokes and good-spirited people. He was da man.

This Halloween, as I lagged behind in getting Mia her costume, I came across his would-be costume for this year---he was going to be Gambit from XMen. (sigh). I found it unsealed amongst his previous costumes of a monkey, a pirate, a onesie, a 70's get up, Zorro...and I cried. Just cried. It's what I so often do. Don't even ask why my eyes are swollen. That's a given. So I thought of the best way to represent Charley by channeling his inner-most Mia.

Mia would be a mini Firefighter with a tutu. I hit the second hand store and pieced it together myself. Used hot glue, glitter, and the drive to get it right. To make Charley proud. She was the cutest Firefighter I've ever seen. And it warmed me to think Charley was walking with us while she collected candy and later crashed from a sugar high.

Just as people wear masks for Halloween and dress up as someone they aren't ordinarily dressed as, I couldn't help but think of all the crap people have speculated. YES, CARLOS IS ALL THE THINGS YOU BELIEVE HE IS! No, he wasn't depressed and keeping it from his family. No, he isn't someone who sold himself to be someone he isn't. No, he wasn't false advertisement.
He is positive, upbeat, happy, loving, respectful, giving, honest. So yes, it's shock. I can't go around policing his circles and protesting his life. Don't judge him by the way he died, remember him for the way he so joyfully lived his life. His death does not define him, damnit. His unconditional love does. So for all of you who experienced him in all his element, you are blessed and fortunate. 

Celebrate Him

Here comes the sun...doorooroorooooo...
Even in times of glory and strength, I play tug of war with everyone's supportive arms and my own pain. People tell me I write beautifully and to continue expressing myself so that you all gain some insight into the turmoil of loss and what I'm enduring. Am I being honest? Yes. Am I being completely transparent and candid? Heck no. Am I changing lives? I really hope so. People also tell me I'm so strong-which blows my feathered mind away because THIS is my weak face. I may smile here and there but not full-heartedly and I don't feel the temporary happiness you may catch a glimpse of. I am plain sad and spend so much time playing memories and moments and experiences in my head over and over and over again. He is real. He exists. He impacts hundreds of lives (I know so because the church was maxed out and people spilled out of it). He had a distinct laugh and walk. Even the way he stood with his hands in his pockets and his legs and feet slightly apart- he exuded confidence and authority. I keep seeing his smile and the mischievous look he so often displayed. I HEAR HIS LAUGHTER. I hear him call my name, "Yoooo. Yolie". He is proof that he was here. And I do go back and forth between past and present tense because my brother is still here. He is still a Firefighter Paramedic even though he technically isn't a Hermosa Beach employee anymore. He is still Mia's Nino and she still plays with him and they blow bubbles together in the backyard. He is still my conscience as I wonder about my life and his. I will eternally speak to him and ask him to guide me.
It occurred to me yesterday as we drove back home from the Suicide Prevention Awareness Walk that no one can understand the shock of losing A CARLOS. Not just Carlos, but his type of Carlos. Does that make sense? People lose a cousin, a co-worker, a neighbor, the elderly- which few of us have significant and meaningful relationships with. How many people can you count that you absolutely believe you cannot live without? Mine are less than one hand. And here's something else...I never understood the phrase "I can't live without you"...and I would think "Uhh, yeah you can. You move on and you live life". But now, now I completely understand. Because I cannot live without my brother. I don't know how. I don't know how to think, what direction to go in, what to do with myself, how to raise Mia, how to educate myself without him. Will I be in a better place someday? Sure. In the meantime though, I enjoy the company of others because when someone comes to distract me for a bit, you're actually filling a gap in my day. You may not be filling his presence, but it's presence nonetheless.
 

One Month In and Several Years to Go

My Dearest Charley,
One month ago this morning, you breathed life and love for the last time. You were here for 36 years and now you're freely flowing in a peaceful place I wish I could follow you to. I dreamt of you last night and you looked so sad sitting on the floor. I walked over to you and took your face in my hands and softly said, "I love you and need you. You're my inspiration and my everything. Please don't go anywhere. Stay with me". You didn't say anything but looked at me and your eyes said it all. I was broken for you. And I still am. Your loss is so profound and has created a vast ripple effect that extends to friends you went to paramedic school with 10 years ago and childhood friends from 30 years ago. Everyone wants to know why. Others have already accepted and moved on. And others still are uncomfortable with their feelings and don't know what to say to me. But one emotion is universal: you are deeply loved. I bet you never knew and are now thriving from everyone's prayers and thoughts.

 I've been raw with emotion and not caring that I'm expressing myself. After all, it's you who taught me how to properly grieve and process. I battle with time and frustration everyday. People don't know what to say so they suggest ignorant things like "It'll get better". Really? I lost my soulmate of 32 years and it'll get better? How am I doing? The ground has fallen out from under me. I see your name and it burns. I stare at your pictures all day and cannot comprehend that you're not alive and here.
It'll become BEARABLE over time. People want to provide words of encouragement but they don't know unless they've experienced a very similar loss. And since it's only been one month, that management will take years for me to get a handle around. I have our own family, a handful of my own supportive friends, and your loyal friends to help me live again.
Charley, I credit you with the very little strength I have and owe you the life you always wanted for me. I will see myself through. I will adventure the trips you wanted to take and the runs and competitions you wanted to achieve.
I'd ask you to come back, knock on my door and say,"SIKE!".....but we both know that can't be. Still, come back, please please please come back. I love you.
I will continue keeping you alive and throw you in everyone's faces. Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.

Crumb of Peace

It's almost been three weeks and it's as fresh as three minutes. Three weeks means that time has in fact passed and time didn't stop. I wish this were the case so that I could process my trauma and every detail surrounding it. The most ridiculous advice is "be strong"- as though I can rummage through all my pain and anguish to be a character of stealth and survival. Sometimes I'm a rag doll with a happy face and other times I'm just a doll with a low battery life and just enough energy to move about my day. There is no time frame for grief. It's not three weeks or a month or a year. Grief occurs several times a day. I yearn to hear my brothers laugh or smell his scent as he walks past me. I want to see his wide smile and feel his reliable high-five. It's an interesting dimension- death. You never know what it feels like to lose someone you love until it happens to you. Obviously. And not just a distant cousin or acquaintance or childhood friend. Someone you unconditionally love and cannot fathom your life without. Picture your rock, your person. Now picture your beating heart being yanked out, a chunk removed, and that same heart being placed back into the cavity where your lungs are already struggling to function and your nervous system has been shocked. There's a significant void that will never change. And the world turns, as much as I don't like it. To everyone else, poof, Charley is gone. He's been laid to rest and life is back in session. But to me and my family, life is different. So I'm going to struggle and stumble and move slowly until I gain this strength everyone speaks of. Allow me to be me, please...even if it's my brothers force holding me up.

 

The Highest Top I Know

It's not easy nor will it ever be. But I do have moments when I can exhale and it doesn't hurt as much. The last time I hiked Runyon was with my brother on a hot and Windex clear day like today. Air is hot and thick but the breeze is cool and still- much like my state of mind sitting and staring off hoping to see Charley come around the bend. Being with his buddies helps. I feel closer to him. Pretending I'm really him joking and shooting the shit. I'm as strong as I can and need to be. I'm exactly where I should be. No shield. No frontin'. Just reaching for any assurance and tangibility of my selfless brother, Charley.

First Day Back to Our Spot @ The Beach

My body is moving but my mind, heart and soul are stuck. Complete emotional lock down. A solemn cycle of the same emotions. Repeated. Fresh. And unable to shake it off. I absent-mindedly scroll through FB and IG and am stung with envy~ you're all living life as if nothing happened. Because nothing did. At least not to you. You're all functioning, which is something I'm not doing and don't know when I will. Everything seems abnormal to me because my brother is gone. Brushing my teeth, driving my car, holding Mia's hand...is all indescribably painful. Because I know Charley won't do these things, because I know I can't call him to tell him what I've done with my day, because Charley no longer lives in this life with me. It's as though I'm walking around without an arm or a leg. I've lost an extremely important limb. It was once there and now it's not. Phantom pains.
But you know what brings me comfort? That he's no longer in pain. He's in a happy place. He's left quite an impressive legacy and countless achievements we can all look to and aspire to be. My life has changed. And I truly look forward to the positive outcomes so that I can thank my brother for continually playing such a vital role in my life.

Take a look at this picture of me and Mia today at the beach. Look at the heart shaped cloud. HE is always with me.

Line of Fire Engines

Even A Hero Can Feel Helpless

Yes, there was a long line of fire engines as my family and I drove Charley through his home of Hermosa Beach for the last time. It was the hearst, our two family cars and a plethora of fire engines from a dozen or so fire stations: Hermosa, Manhattan, Redondo, Torrance, Vernon, Santa Monica, etc. I looked back at the love following my brother down Hermosa Ave. to his station. We got out of the cars while the hearst drove into the station. My four inch heels made a slow click clack into the station to watch my brother in his element for the last time. I made eye contact with every individual who stood against the wall. Another line. Remorseful eyes. Cloudy eyes. Hurting eyes.
Dispatch called my brother:
"Last alarm for Carlos Lopez. Last call for service for Carlos Lopez".

I heard the struggle of muffled cries behind me. I envisioned my brother coming downstairs, jumping into his boots, and swinging his turnouts on. He climbs into Rescue Engine 11 as the engine turns on and the sirens shout his name. Charley and the hearst follow. And my knees tremble.
I dragged my exhausted body and heart back into the car to follow my brother to the church where he had just been three weeks earlier. Attendance was massive. The church was filled past the vast double doors and people spilled out of it. Over 500 PEOPLE mourned my brother that day. All I could do was focus on Charley. I couldn't even see Mia. I couldn't even feel her in my arms. My family was in a zombie-like state. The honor guards presented my mom with a folded flag and my brother's badge in a shadow box. The chief walked it over and that's when my mom broke. That was the moment she felt it. Bagpipe player begins his solemn melody and we walk out and make our way to his final resting place.

 

I can't tell you what happened at the cemetery. I didn't see anyone, still. I do remember now, that I gracefully walked over to my brother's casket, knelt down and placed my head and arms around him and sang "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray...you'll never know Charley, how much I love you, please don't take my sunshine away...".

He told me once that as kids, he'd walk into our room and I'd be sitting singing that song to my dolls..and ultimately him. And ultimately him.

Standing Room Only

He looked just like him at the viewing. My brother, still and motionless. The same face that I would wake up with water to his face or by jumping on him. The same soul that looked asleep when I found him.
Dozens of friends and family and community members came to see him for a last time. Came to pay their respects to my family, came to revel in the love and admiration, came to speak amongst themselves, came to cry, and arrived only to say goodbye. "It's just his body, Yolie," my Dad encouraged. But it didn't matter to me. I held him and cried in anguish. Apologized for not saving him, apologized for failing, apologized for not preventing his loss, and loudly cried on his chest while I clung to his defined features and the soundless beating of his heart.
I can't tell you who was there and how many people appoached me and held me. I can't even tell you what was on my mind. All I could do was stay close to him and stare at my favorite person, my ultimate fan.

How could this happen? Why was HE placed so carefully and beautifully in a box unfitting for his personality. It was wrong. All wrong. The shock and mystified looks on everyones faces came lastly to my own. I built a couple collage boards featuring his smile and his life. Friends, family, Mia- Oh, Mia and their bond, whom he baptized only three weeks before. Their love and joy for one another is so plainly seen to anyone with a pair of soft eyes and precious heart. How could he leave HER? She asks for him all the time. "Nino, Nino!". First couple of weeks she was waking up in the middle of the night crying and pleading for him, and I, I would lull her back to sleep with my own rapid tears and soothing words, "Nino is asleep. Nino is so so tired".

I read his eulogy after the the slide show. I selected PM Dawn's "I'd Die Without You", which I had reserved for my own death and services, and shared it with my brother instead. The song was fitting. So philisophical and on point. "I'm under water and I'm drowning.....isn't it amazing how things completely turn around?" Firstly it's his feelings of desperation and unconditional love and in close second is our desire to take all that pain away from him just to be with him.

"I'd Die Without You" Lyrics

As I stood and walked to the podium, I felt the most immense weight on my heart and in my throat. I stood and looked around the room- over 200 pair of eyes patiently waiting for me to speak and take everyone's pain away. Fill their minds with my own words of comfort and forgiveness. My mouth went dry. I panicked. My heart rate sped up. I felt desperate. Someone tell me this isn't real- I am not standing here reading from a paper I quickly scribbled out 20 minutes before the mass begin.

My brother's drive and confidence stems from our childhood when our father passed away. Charley was a spunky kid and always had a mature air about him. Even as a young child, I looked up to him and wanted to be just like him: headstrong, tough, and blessed with the gift of comedy. I used to follow him around and he hated it. But at the end of the night while we were in our bunk beds, he'd give me the time I so profusely asked for. He'd sing songs to me, tell me jokes and we'd play wih his G.I. Joes. As we grew, so did his love for life. You all know: he always had a smile on his handsome face and would make every person he would meet feel special. He was the guy you can count on for anything. Ask, and he'd say yes. What time? No problem, Of course.

I'm heartbroken. I lost the the man in my life. The man who loved me and protected me as a child, kept a safe distance when I began to like boys and loved me more than ever as adults. He told me in his final weeks that I'd been his rock. And it surprised me because all along he had been mine.

I had always been his audience when he learned how to dance to impress the girls, came up with rhymes and flows when he fell into Hip Hop, made flash cards together for paramedic school exams, his ears to listen to every heartbreak, arms to hold him when he surrendered and the voice of reason to tell him I loved him. And I always told him. I never took him for granted.

He'd been my teacher. I soaked and absorbed his life moments and experiences as though they were my own. We were one. And now it's just me...joined by his spirit.

You all lost him. A son. A friend. A nephew. A cousin. A brother.

But you gotta respect him for the way he left us. Everything Charley did, he did with the utmost tenacity. He always did wht he wanted to do. He was a man of his word and when he gave it to you, he was sincere. When he told himself he'd do something , he would do it.

And so he made a choice- even if it wasn't HIM. He was content with all he'd achieved. And he gave up for the first time in his life, knowing very well we'd get through it. And he was brave. He was sooo brave for the decision he made. We can't speculate. We can only forgive. It's the biggest lesson he taught me. Forgive. Forgive yourselves for the guilt and forgive others and cleanse your soul. Get the most out of life and continue trying to be the best version of yourself. I know he always made me feel my best and instilled an inspiration to be better.

I hope he did the same for you.



CrossFit South Bay- Last Lopez Workout

There's something to be said when a family that isn't mine invited me into their athletic morning. I was excited to say the least. Imagining myself among his friends with whom he had dedicated so much time with. And I didn't know what to expect, except to work out with him in mind and not to quit. Being in his space was difficult. I cried between sets and looked out into the parking lot wishing his truck were there. As I pushed through the workout of the day designed in his name, I told him I was sweating for him. Burning calories for him. Keeping strong and steady for him. And as I went through the last set and threw the ball up high against the wall, I reached up for him and high-fived his spirit. He was with me the whole time.

Firefighter Challenge Relay Video

If you couldn't make it to my brother's relay competition yesterday...here it is. From beginning to end. ♥ See what I mean? He's there. You're there. The pride is felt.

Great Tribute for A Great Man

And So My Brother Competes

Anticipation built as my brother's shift completed his race with dignity, drive and the weight of his loving memory. We wore "Team Carlos" shirts. And adorned them with invisible badges of support and a strong wanting to act as though Charley were ACTUALLY there. His brothers wore his turnouts and if you didn't look directly at their faces and only the gear where his jacket reads "LOPEZ", you could almost see Charley sweating and gritting his teeth and fiercely devouring oxygen.

It was a sight to see- a quick five minutes of what any firefighter endures in the line of duty (minus the real-life threat of danger, lol, of course). A celebratory thirty minutes of cheer, pride and soak-faced tears served as comfort in the arms of peace and tranquility. Big sigh. Many big sighs. Many "I'm okay right now" assertions. I found myself to be happy in between the anger and envy of accepting his loss.
And damn am I proud. Geezus, am I proud of him <3

 

 

RIP Firefighter Paramedic Carlos Lopez

Good Day LA Video Clip

The honors and remembrance began as a Los Angeles newsworthy clip. Every Friday "Good Day LA" features a bit called "Firehouse Friday". This particular Friday, September 20, 2013, Hermosa Beach Fire Department broadcast my brothers (Instagram Profile) turnouts, boots and engine helmet was put on display for all of L.A. to weep for and see. And did I weep. And shuddered. And thanked my brother for his tremendous and courageous community efforts. What a guy <3

Firefighter Challenge to be Opened in My Brother's Name

Easy Reader News- Carlos Lopez article

Sleep eternally in the arms of Peace and God. We are with you and will support you in your competition this Saturday afternoon. And we will see you through the finish line.

I Lost the Man in My Life

 

 It's a cliche, but it's so true: no words can describe the turmoil and loss my family and I are enduring. It's a deep pain that robs your soul of oxygen and yanks the cord of your very worst fear. The loss of someone you think you can't live without is very real. It happens. And when it does, you are literally beside yourself. Hunger is nonexistent as is sleep and logic.
Charley and I were connected by mind and heart and soul and most importantly, by a love most people are never fortunate and blessed to have. We knew this of each other and often discussed how grateful we were to have the other as a constant. I was his rock until the end. And I am his rock, still~ carrying his energy and faith as i struggle to comprehend that he is not returning the last calls I made to him. I am personally experiencing characteristics I never knew I had. I'm weak and unafraid to admit it. Even when this is a time for strength, it's a suffocation I'm tortured with every second. And the battle of "this is a waking nightmare" vs "you've got to get it together for Mia" will improve with time...
And I will say this~ I have become obsessed with postings and pictures on both Instagram and Facebook. I have become the person sitting idly, scrolling and scrolling in search of all words and dedications to and for my brother. And this act alone is providing me with a strength that stems from you all. Thank you ALL for your constant support and frequent insights into your the moments and memories you created and shared with Charley. They will live on. He is gone but his wide-dimpled smile, perfectly aligned white teeth and the bright glints in his eyes are permanently engraved into all of us. He is clearly loved and respected by so many and adored by so many more. Even now, he is uniting us all under his umbrella of hope and unconditional love. Embrace him.