What do I have to do to make you feel?
What do I have to do to make you believe?
Why can’t you hear me?
My world shatters with every time I reach for you but I can’t stop.
What do I need to do to touch you?
What do I need to do to make you see what I already know?
What do I need to do to make you save me from the fall?
What do I need to do…?
I’m not afraid to fall anymore.
I’m not afraid to fly.
Why is my heart stronger broken?
Why does my world belong to you?
Summer nights in the mountains are his favorite. Something about the potential in the winds at the higher elevation. There is an energy that is infectious in these moments as the earth cools after a warm summer day. This night is definitely one of those night. It was fifteen minutes past sunset, the summer sky was still in that ambiguous phase of purple, blues and red. If you had just opened my eyes you wouldn’t know if the night was coming or receding. Tonight he was excited to see her. Hell when is he not excited to see her. It’s true he misses her the second she walks out of his sight. It’s not that he is needy. He just loves the way the world glows when she is around. As he drove through the windy mountain roads he played out the imaginary scenarious of the coming evening in his mind. He wanted to go perfectly. In his head he was smooth and confident. He focused on these thoughts.
There are thousands of details to cover and not enough words or time in my short life to capture the truth of it all. For me at the top of this ever growing list will always be her eyes, and not because of the obvious reasons. They are deep and dark in their beauty. They out shine the brightest stars, but I love them not for what they are but for what they see.
I fall again and again watching them move across the landscapes of the world. It’s the way they move and pause at the most unexpected moments that I love best. She will understand why I love her or the truth of her of all her facets. It you watch carefully enough you can see the her thoughts form. That is my favorite thing to do, but it takes patience and a little bit of lucky. It’s like waiting for that last moment of the sunset. If you blink or look away you miss it.
I will never know what she sees when she looks in the mirror, but it’s clear she will never completely accept what I see. I never exaggerate what I see. There are times I feel she thinks I do, but I would never do that to her.
The ghost behind your eyes knows my name. I never knew why until today. It’s a name spoken in lost dreams. Running through my dark days I see what could have been, and remember the moments of
Midnight words save me and early morning memories take it all away. All want is chance to move mountains and cross the stars for one moment of bliss. Take my hand and listen to the silence of this moment. Give me today, and follow me to heaven.
She walked along the cliffs, making her way through a grass path, watching the waves crash over the jagged rocks below as the sunset faded into an array of oranges, reds and purples. The beautiful blue sky slowly dying into the night sky. The clouds, the incoming tide, the birds, the sunset it was all beautiful, but still it was just a back drop for her smile. She floated through it all, as graceful as the passing clouds, loving it all with her eyes, kissing it with her soul. Her bare feet glided through the grass as she made her way to a patch of blooming wildflowers. The wind played with her sundress and pulled it tight against her body as she made her way to the edge of the cliff. I tried to follow her but an invisible force from deep inside held me back. Maybe somewhere inside I knew I didn’t belong in this perfect picture. Instead I just sat watching this beautiful world unfold with each step. I just sat watching her redefine beauty with each breath. Eventually the sun disappear beyond the horizon, swallowed up by the earth. Just as I saw the first star shed it’s light she turned to me and with a silent glance gave me enough love for a lifetime. I know it’s greedy to want more, but I do. I always will. I always have, but for today I will settle for this one moment knowing that I am closer to heaven than I have ever been.
In 2010 my mother died of multiple myeloma. She had actually been suffering from it for over a year, but unfortunately it wasn’t properly diagnosed until a few weeks before her death. Her health problems actually started a year prior. She was on a trip in Monterrey visiting family when she started complaining of hip pain. Her cousin took her to a chiropractor, but this just made it worse. The pain just got worse when she returned home. A few days after she returned home I received a call at work from my sister. My sister informed me that my mother couldn’t even stand on her own any more. We knew we had to take her to the hospital immediately. My Mother was always the strong one, she was never sick and she never complained about anything, so for her to admit she needed to go to the hospital I immediately knew something was really wrong. After a long night in the emergency room the doctor on duty finally informed us it was a broken hip. That was June 25th 2009, it’s easy to remember the date because it was my birthday. This was the same hospital where I was born, so I joked with my mom that it had been over 30 years since we both spent the night in the hospital. She was release from the hospital a week and a half later after a successful hip replacement. Unfortunately, the multiple myeloma went undiagnosed. My mother went through physical therapy and seemed to improved over the next few months. It wasn’t until about 9 months later her health started to decline again. At first it was minor things like her forgetting stuff, but her physical and mental state declined over the course of a few weeks. I knew we had to do something so we took her to the emergency room on a Friday. After another long stay in the emergency room they admitted her to the ICU. The next day they informed me and my sisters that the scans showed her several areas where her bones we eaten away. Her right arm, hips, jaw and spine were all affected. They couldn’t comment on the cause until the Oncologist officially diagnosed it as cancer, but I already knew this was some form of cancer. After 3-4 days they admitted her into the oncology ward and officially diagnosed it as multiple myeloma. We spent the next few weeks in the cancer ward. Her kidney function continued declined, which started affecting her memory. As I started to research the disease suddenly everything made sense. Her broken hip, her forgetfullness, everything that had been going for over a year finally had a cause. As soon as she was stable they wanted to discharge her. At this time she couldn’t walk or even stand so my family finally reluctantly agreed to admit my mother into a nursing home. This wasn’t an easy decision, but she needed a full time caregiver. My mother didn’t have the best medical coverage and because of this we were limited to our selection of nursing homes. The one we found in Highland Park was barely acceptable, but we had no choice since all my siblings worked. After 2 days we decided at the nursing home we could do better on our own, and decided to move her back home. We weren’t sure how it would work out, but with the help of our family we knew we would manage. She never wanted to be in the nursing home and was happy to hear she was going home. Before releasing her from the home the doctor ordered one more blood test. This test showed her red blood cells to be low. The doctor told me she needed to go back to the hospital for a blood transfusion. So the ambulance we thought would be taking her home ended up taking her back to the hospital that day. Regardless we were still happy she would be home soon. That night in the hospital before I waited for the nurse to check her vitals. Her blood pressure was a little low and her temperature was down. I didn’t think anything of it, and the nurse told me it wasn’t anything to worry about. So I said goodbye to my mom that night and told her I loved her. I didn’t know this was the last time I would talk to her. The next day at work my sister called me and informed me that my mother had developed sepsis. The chemo had destroyed her immune system and there was nothing left to fight this infection. She slipped into a coma and the doctors told us we had to make a choice whether we wanted her on life support. She already had an advanced directive and we knew if we put her on life support the chances of her coming of it was very slim. So we decided against the life support and let her die peacefully. I only had a few weeks to learn about this disease before my mother died, but through each of your stories I have learned that there is hope. Your stories give me hope that we will one day beat this disease. I see the progress that has been made over the past few years, and it makes me proud to contribute to LLS. I’ve never been a runner, I’ve never liked to run, but over the past 6 months I’ve actually started looking forward to our runs. So I just want to thank you all for the opportunity to contribute to the fight against this disease, and for introducing me to the world of running. It’s not always easy to be here so early, and the first few long runs were painful but when I think about why we are here, when I think about my mother in that hospital bed wanting to get up and walk so bad, suddenly the pain goes away, suddenly I look forward to the run. So I just want to say thank you for this opportunity to run with all of you. Go Team!
When I was 8 years old I wanted a bike. My father insisted on building a bike from scratch instead of buying one. I never challenged this idea because I knew my father could accomplish anything he set his mind to, and I knew he’d build me something we could never buy in a store. My father was my world growing up and I watched him build entire houses from dirt. I watched him work 7 days a week for as long as I could remember without one complaint. My father was a great man, and really gave me the best he had and continued to do so until his very last breath. Maybe it is a bit arrogant to think there is nothing I can not achieve when determined and focused, but this is what my father taught me to believe. He would amaze me all the time, giving selflessly to the world and never asking anything in return. He never showed doubt or fear to any task. Today, looking back I wish I could ask him, “Dad was there anything you feared, was there anything that made you doubt yourself?” If there was he never showed it. Even in the last few days of his life I never saw a bit of fear in his eyes. Sadness, yes. A yearning to live, yes. However, I can’t say I ever saw fear. This strength I carry with me, in me, and I pray to the memory of him everyday for the honor to have his blood in me. His blood keeps me strong, and I find infinite strength in his memory. This bike is one of many great memories he gave me, but it is touchstone I go back to time and time again to find my center. I don’t remember how this bike was lost, I don’t remember the last time I rode it, but I remember every step we took as we built it together. It was my first bike, and I will always remember the fall nights we spent together building it in our garage. I will never the first time I rode 20 feet without falling. The chill of the autumn air, the amber glow of the street lights and the long shadow cast by the huge oak tree in front of my neighbors house are so vivid. These days I will never forget. Looking back it seems like yesterday. The last day my father was alive he told me, “Son it all goes by so fast, it is truly is a blink of an eye.” He was right. I’ve tried to make this the mantra that I breath in everyday, and as deep as this thought is burned into my soul it is a struggle to stay focused against the numbing rhythm of daily life. This rhythm easily pulls you into a complacent cadence of ignorant bliss. It’s a constant struggle we all fight, but I fight everyday knowing he would want me to fight.
I only have fond memories of my bike. We picked every piece out individually and spent several weekend together building itpiece by piece. First the frame. We painted it a mat black. We then put the handle bars on with some blue grips, along with the wheels. Then we added a banana seat, and some knobby dirt tires. The pièce de résistance was a shiny mongose sticker. My father captured my imagination by telling me how this small mammal was known for its ability to kill venomous snakes, particularly the deadly cobra. He had a way of making every story a colorful narrative, and sparking the fires of my imagination. After a few weeks of buying parts, painting the frame, and tightening bolts it was ready to ride. At first he would run behind me, holding the back of my seat until I gained balance. I still remember falling as soon as he let me go. Eventually, I would stop paying attention to whether he was holding me or not and before I knew it I was riding longer and longer distances without him. At first the fear would control me and I’d fall as soon as he’d let go, but eventually I learned to forget the fear and just pedal. Before I knew it I’d ride father and faster, increasing the distance away from home. It was really a magically time, and I really treasured the time I spent with my father on those fall nights. He was constantly working but he always made time for our bike rides. I feel lucky to have these memories of these evenings to look back on. These times always bring me back on center. I know I was lucky to have him. He sacrificed his life so my gifts can grow, and I known need to pay this back and give tribute to the man he was and the man he knew I had to be.
I have had many fuck ups in my life. Some greater than others, but one stands out. In her sixty third year of her life my mother was diagnosed with multiple myeloma, a blood cancer. Her prognosis was terminal and she really deteriorated fast once in the hospital. Unfortunately she let her medical coverage lapse and had to enter the horrible world of public health care in the United States. Watching a loved one slow fade away while dealing with the horrors of the public health care has changed my perspective on the greatness of this country permanently. I would like to say I tried my best during this final stage of my moms life. Yes, I took the lead among my siblings durning her hospitalization, and I logged more hours at the hospital. However, I can’t say I always gave 100%. There were times I eased of the throttle just so my siblings could step up. In some ways I resented the role I had fallen into. In my early twenties my father was diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer and during that time I was his primary care giver. I took a semester of from school and was with him every second of the day, but that was a different time. I didn’t have a full time job, a house, a mortgage, a horrid boss that question me every time I took time off to go the hospital, and I didn’t have a relationship that was slowing dying with my long time girl friend. There were times I could of taken time off from work to be there with her, but instead I delegated her care to one of my siblings. This is something I find unforgivable in myself. I was selfish in her time of need. My hidden resentment had me keeping score of who did what and when. This invisible scorecard was hanging over me up until the day she died. It wasn’t my role to keep track of the hours my family spent in the hospital, but I myself was physically and emotionally exhausted. What was really upsetting was the fact that I lived the farthest and yet I was never missed a day, all the while my brother had time to work out, and my sisters still had time to go out for dinners. I wanted help and there were times I did voice my opinion, but I got tired fighting the tide of their selfishness. Once my brother had just returned home from school. It was about 7pm, and he said it was too late for him to come to the hospital. Visiting hours didn’t end till 930pm and he was 30 mins away. I received this message from my sister. I was upset, but didn’t lose my temper. Instead I called him and told him to come down now. He didn’t question me and was there in less than thirty minutes. I think this was the breaking point for me. After this I started holding back, and occasionally showing up late just so one of them could spend more hours. My mother always expected more from me and I started to resent her for this during this time. I still loved her and it broke my heart to see her mind and body fade away. She was only in the hospital less a few weeks when they considered her stable. She couldn’t walk or even stand, but according to the hospitals policy they only keep a patient until they are “stablized”. Nevermind the fact they can’t walk or stand. Makes me wonder what do they do for patients without families. Do the just drop them on the sidewalk and wait for them to come close to death again before admitting them back in. Fucken health care in America! Once when my mother was home she had a doctors appointment and I was scheduled to take her to this appointment. My brother didn’t work that day and I knew it was possible for him to take her. Some how I was still on task to take her. I was at work, it was a busy day, but I could’ve left. Instead I told my mother I was running late in the hopes that she would make the logical decision to get my brother’s lazy ass to take her. She didn’t. Instead she waited for me. This made me angry so I started ignoring her calls as her appointment time approached. I let her wait two hours until I decided to show up. What I saw when I arrived broke my heart. She couldn’t walk unassisted and this point she was weighing adult diapers. Due to the nature of her disease she lost control of her bladder. My sister had dressed her and my brother helped her to the couch where she sat for several hours waiting for me. Her diapers was overflowing with urine and had soiled the couch cushion. I felt like a complete piece if shit. I let my mother sit for hours in her own urine for hours because I was feeling overwhelmed. I could’ve spoke up. I could’ve said something. I could’ve yelled at my brother and made him take her. Instead I just played this cruel game of chicken hoping my mother would actually make one of her other children step up instead of leaning on me. Regardless of what was going on in my head I will regret my decision that day to make her wait needlessly. It sadly didn’t stop there. The day finally came for my mother to be discharged. At this point her health was much worse. She would require full time care, and looking back I feel that we could’ve tried harder at this point. Since we all worked full time we felt at this point our only option was a nursing home, but without medical insurance the options were grim. We called around and finally found one we thought was acceptable in highland park. Our assessment was based on limited knowledge, but this was another decision I will regret until I die. This was my mother, she would of moved mountains for my safety and yet I allowed my family to make the selfish decision and have her admitted to this horrible place. I was with her the night she was moved. It was 11pm by the time she was moved. Everyone had left. The EMTs loaded her to the gurney and I walked with her to the ambulance. I then followed the ambulance in my car. It was about a twenty minute drive through the winding streets of Highland Park. I’ve never felt more alone than I did on that drive. I really felt like I was helpless in my situation. The hopelessness made the night seem darker than it was. Still I tried to keep an open mind about this nursing home. I stayed with her till morning sleeping on a chair beside her. In the morning I called work and let them know I was taking the day off. The next few days were a blur. It took about a day for us to realize we had made a mistake. My evil sister used to joke with my mother ad tell her that when she got older she was going to put her in a home, and my mother would always turn to me and say “Joseph wouldn’t let that happen.” I never thought I’d let this happen, but I did. The next few days we did our best to juggle our lives to limit the time she was alone in this place. It’s was a sad place. Her room was shared by two other patients. It was small, and cramped. The paint was faded so bad it made it impossible to determine the original color. There one small old 10 inch television all three occupants had to share. It took all my strength to maintain a smile when I looked my mom in the eyes. Really all I could think was, “is this the best we could do?” She deserved so much more. Finally one the third day something in me snapped and I knew I had to get out of there. I wasn’t sure how we would do it, but I gathered my siblings and aunts, and put together a schedule for her care. Later that afternoon I left work early and was excited to tell her she was going home. I informed the doctors and they scheduled a medical transport later that day. Before she could be discharged the doctor asked we wait for the blood results from the tests they took earlier that day. The results showed her red blood cells were low, and the doctor immediately put in the orders for her to be admitted back into the hospital. I followed her ambulance back to the hospital, and stayed with her till the transfusion was complete. It was about 1130 pm, and before I left her for the night I waited for the nurse to check her vitals on last time. She noticed her blood pressure was low and her temperature was also a little low. Nervously I asked the nurse what does that mean. She assured me there was nothing to worry about. It was late and I was exhausted. I told my mom I loved her and kissed her goodbye. I reminded her that she was going to get to go home in a few days and she smiled. Little did I know that was a lie. The next morning we were informed she had developed sepsis, a very lethal blood infection. She slipped into a medically induced sleep and died just after 930pm that night. In the final 30 minutes of her life I sat there watching there heart monitor as the beeps grew farther and farther apart, and I kept thinking was I just wanted to get her home. Maybe if I made my decision to bring her home one day so she would’ve lived longer. Did that filthy nursing home cause her fatal infection. I will always wonder if my selfishness during those final weeks sped up the onset of my mothers death.
1. Finish Linked in Profile – March 15
2. Research and Set Schedule for Certification Classes – Due March 18
3. Enter all Chapters in Final Cut – March 22
4. Identify 3 Professional Groups to Join – March 15
5. Update Outline – March 20
5.5. Add Pic to Linked In – March 20
6. Finish Business Plan – March 28
7. Finish Website – March 31
7.5. Complete Mobile html hybrid training course – March 31
7.8. Finalize Requirements Mobile App – April 1
8. Prototype of Mobile App – April 11
9. 10 Chapters Complete – April 17
10. Hire Mobile Developer – April 24
11. Identify 3-5 Businesses to Pilot App – April 30
12. Finish Swift Overview – May 1
13. Enroll in UX Training Course – May 8
14. Enroll in 1st Microsoft Cert Class- May 22
15. 15 Chapters Complete – May 22
16. Code Review Mobile App – May 29
17. Testing Mobile App – June 5
18. Submit App to Apple Store – June 12
18.5. Take PMP Exam – June 5
19. Submit App to Google Play – June 19
19.5. Enroll in 2nd /3rd Microsoft Cert Class – June 19
20. 20 Chapters Complete – June 26
21. Sign 3 Clients – June 30
22. Launch App – July 4
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