One last lesson….

This is my first ever blog post or blog writing, whatever you call it. It actually took me some time to figure out exactly what I wanted to write about. In the scope of things it is kind of a daunting task to have what I would consider my friends, homies, peoples, fam see the real me, void of all safeguards exposed…. So, what have I have chosen to write about? Easy my moms, and the lesson she has taught me even after she has passed…

Two years ago I lost my mother, what at the time was the hardest thing I had ever lived through has become a never ending nightmare. As the days pass by I don’t know if it’s a result of me finally coming to terms or me just pushing it to the back of mind. But none the less I feel like a part of me is slowly dying.

I’ve tried to actually talk about it with some close friends but it becomes hard. Then you have to know that talking about death is a convo no one really wants to have. So no matter what you were doing when you bring that subject up it pretty much fucks up your day or evening depending on when you bring up the subject.

So what did I do? I spent 100 bucks an hour to talk to a complete stranger who was wearing a Mr.Rogers sweater writing in his pad “this Rican here needs to man the fuck up”. I don’t know about you guys but I could use those 100 bucks to buy me a nice bottle of scotch and drown my sorrows. **bbm thumbs up** so that didn’t last long.

So what options was I left with? I felt like I couldn’t talk to my friends because no one wants to be that “emo” friend. I sure as hell don’t want Mr. rogers laughing at me so I bottled it up. I learn to not talk about it. I smoked a shit ton of weed in hopes of not being able to remember anything when I woke up. Of course none of that worked. In the end I was  forced to remember the good and the bad times, forced to shed the tears. I laid awake night after night asking why me? Why now? Why can’t the pain stop.

In the end I’ll never have my questions answered. I honestly don’t think I want to know the answers at this point. I’ve learned that slowly but surely the pain subsides. The regret of not being the perfect son will never go away. But I don’t think that’s a bad thing. People will argue different but in my eyes I view it as something to strive for. To be someone my Mother could be proud of “the perfect son”.

I slowly start to remember times I spent with her. Conversations I had with her. All things that at first hurt me so much to remember now heal the wound. In the end what I have learned from my past two years of grieving is that there is no “right way” to do it. Just as long as I don’t give up there is no wrong way to grief. SURE, people will tell you a hundred million things, but in the end you have to do what is right for you. That’s the most valuable lesson I can take away from all this. So I look up to the sky and thank her for giving me the most painful but helpful lesson I can ever have in my life, “Just do you”.  I love and miss her more than words can express….. Thanks mom.

-Jabba

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