Fun Funereal Memories

I remember a hat (way too big for what was left of your skull). I remember two ladies arguing the depth of your love for them over your coffin (the one in the white vinyl catsuit looked more pissed off than sad). I remember trying so hard not to burst into wild laughter, and thinking, You’re freaking loving this, little brother, aren’t you?

Photo by Andres F. Uran, on Unsplash

- it’s funny, the things that come to mind while we remember loved ones taken by death. Last year, on the 11^th anniversary of my little brother’s last breath, my memories were focused on food: his favorite dishes (carne guisada, coconut rice with pigeon peas, potato salad…), his latest favorite song (“Gasolina” by Daddy Yankee). This year, my brain is over-bubbling with (hysterical) snippets of his funeral. 12 years… and the grief (and the love) burn just as bright. 

I hope your spirit remains the life of the party, little brother--ruffle some angel feathers for your witchy sister.  

– for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #166: Letters/Sounds)

October Is Bittersweet

not-quite Journaling, 74

 

10/1/2024: I love October--the colors, the clothes, the food, the spooky decorations, the lore, the tales, the remembrance of the lives of my Dead. I know some people find celebrating the dead with merriment weird (even ghoulish), but I’ve always thought it extra lovely to have a special time of the year when we share stories (sad and happy and funny) about the lives of those we’ve lost to death. It’s one of the best ways to keep them alive (in our hearts). 

 

Love waits--not always
patiently, perhaps; still,
love that has been touched,
love that has been fed,
love that remembers
love... waits.

10/6/2024: During a breast cancer awareness meeting, two individuals were discussing (okay, they were arguing at the top of their lungs about) cancer and true love. One shouted that if the love is true, the partner of a cancer patient would never leave them. The other yelled that if the cancer patient truly loves their partner, then they would understand the partner’s decision to walk away. When they asked a few of us our thoughts on the issue, I said that love is personal and complicated. The disgusted looks on their faces told me they didn’t think much of my opinion. So, I shut my mouth and started this poem bit. I still think that different loves are differently complicated. Selfishly (and unrepentantly), I’m just glad that my own love has been made stronger by my own ordeal. Also, I’m rather relieved that I don’t feel the need to scream at people, when I disagree with their much too loud views--ignoring them (and doing something that soothes me) is way more satisfying.  

 

10/10/2024: There are songs I only listen to in October. There are foods I only eat in October. Songs and foods that were the favorites of loved ones I’ve lost to death. I think of them always, but I only let the memories linger in October… 

– for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #148: October Is Bittersweet)

Tapestry

I’ve been weaving my words
for you, gathering
living threads of laughter and pain,
of loss and growth,
of real dreams and dreamed realities.
I’ve been weaving hurt and joy and hope
into a tapestry of all my love
for you.

 

photo by Yannick Pulver, on Unsplash

 – for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #119: In Memoriam)

Cackles and Endings

You wear wings, I wear wild.

Your soul whispers of endings,

my spirit cackles at the moon.

We dance unlived dreams

real--in them, you

never drive your life away

and I scribble

no tears.

Today is the 11^th anniversary of my little brother’s death. My heart is heavy with memories and music and food and laughter and tears… I’ve heard people say that grief lessens with time, but I think that’s just a well-meant lie. The shock and pain (and the way we deal with them) evolve, but the sorrow remains raw. Say his name with me today: Gregory Guerrero. He loved music (bachata and reggaetón); he loved food (rice and beans and carne guisada); he loved helping people (even when they didn’t deserve it); he got in trouble often; he laughed with his entire heart and his joy was contagious… I miss him.

photo by Tim Mossholder, on Unsplash

 
– for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #116: Lasting Impressions)