This one is really random. I didn't plan to write this one until I started rolling in a convo with a friend, as well as while I was thinking. I began to remember two old friends that I grew up in church with. On one end, you had Cruz Ramos and on the other end, you had Julio Rios. I don't ever even recall talkin' much about them but when it comes to my faith, they both hold a certain place in my life.
Cruz was your ultimate test of your ability to listen. It is rare that you ever got to talk. She would go on and on and on. Men, if you complain about your gf/fiancee/wife,you need to stop right now. This woman would keep you on the phone about 2 hours max -- and you would not say much. You would sit down and listen, nothing more.
The other thing is that she truly was a woman of faith. She had diabetes, was going blind, was almost headed to her 80's and lived alone about as long as I can remember. Even with all the sickness she was going through, nothing broke her faith. She showed that God has a way of giving inexplicable joy and adding extra peace to ease the pain. Like, damn it, she was strong. As Pastor Ricky would say, "if you're gonna be stubborn, be stubborn for Jesus". Her passing away was like trying to keep the Undertaker down when he wrestled Triple H at WrestleMania 27. Every time it looked like she was done, she kept getting back up and kept recovering. After they had removed life support, she was recovering out of nowhere that we thought she was gonna leave the hospital before month's end. Then she just passed on. I wonder sometimes if that's a rare after-effect upon removing life support.
Then you had Julio Rios -- one of the best damn pianists the world never got to know. He played keys the way I like it best -- with that classical and very clean tone and sound. I never been into horns or organs or that Mr. Rogers kinda sound. Dang it did he know how to fill the room the second he'd play on that keyboard. He loved music. This guy loved people too. I think a lot of my love for people came from his influence. This guy didn't just play in church -- the streets weren't a stranger to him, much less Riker's Island. I don't find it odd that I once had a privilege of playing at Riker's years after his passing with a person or two that also played with him. Julio was such a little kid on the inside as well. When he had a surgery (I think on his spleen), he showed us his stitches by dropping his pants! Thank God he had us fooled and it only dropped to the side to see the stitches.
He also dealt with diabetes to the point that he was on dialysis every month or so. It was grueling, especially for his wife Tonita. That woman always took care of him. Then there was that time he had a kidney surgery of some sort. Not fun and definitely had him away from us at church. We missed him a lot to the point that church was hard to be in without him. I look back and I don't see it as idolatry, it was more like he was a role model to every individual that attended.
He also gave me the push to play and sing. I think that thanks to him, playing guitar and bass simply came to me just a little better. Everyone knew him as the pianist but damn it he was one rabid guitarist and bassist too. Basswise, he had latin written all over him. As a guitarist, he was everywhere but there was also something Beatles-esque about him to a George Harrison degree.
The night that I heard he was at the hospital is still fresh in my mind. Dad and I jetted over to see him the first chance we got. He was over in a wonderful hospital in the Bronx. They had great food too. He ended up there due to falling off a ladder and shattered his leg, which required surgery. Somehow it also affected his diabetes and his kidney. Surgery was done and for the most part, he was improving. Again, in his innocent nature, he lifts up his robe and shows the stitches. Not a pretty sight I gotta say.
As time went on, he was almost gonna get cleared. I got to see him and this time, he grabbed my guitar and schooled me a bit. That was the last time I saw him in a state of consciousness. Days later, he ended up in a coma in a near-vegetable state. It was hell. There was still sign of life but the countdown had begun. No improvements whatsoever. Dad and I saw him for the last time. It was a hard sight to see because you couldn't help but know that as soon as life support gets cut off, he'll be headed home with the Lord. We said our last goodbyes and said a prayer. As we left, I couldn't help but notice a smirk form on Julio's face. I really wish he had recovered from there but who knows why it never happened. He passed on. His wife's health had gone into decline since then. From heart troubles to lung issues, it was looking as though his death was physically crippling him. Crazy as it is, you know you love someone when the death of someone you love can impact you that strongly. She passed on barely a year after.
That man never let go of his faith despite his health's decline and neither did Cruz. Like, damn, we deal with issues of money, relationships with people, grades, art, music, etc. but every time I remember the crap Julio and Cruz went through, it pushes me to grab my balls and toughen up and realize how much easier I got it compared to how they got it. Like, damn, I got it good. Granted, there are situations even worse than theirs but dang does it push me to believe in simply living and make me realize how much more it means to be told to "cherish your life" as Jigsaw would say.
I'll close with this, make good with your life while you're young so that when you get old and wrinkly, you don't find yourself going (pardon the profanity), "F***, what was I thinking?!". Give yourself (when get old) good reasons to say what it says on my ladyfriend's right shoulder blade, "No Excuses, No Apologies, No Regrets".
No comments:
Post a Comment