Dearly Departed….

It happened in a little beach town called Luquillo in Puerto Rico. If you drive into Luquillo, the first thing you’ll notice are the deep green mountains in the background. You can imagine tourists and hikers climbing the mountains, in search of a spiritual experience in the rainforest. A bonding with nature. The second thing you’ll notice are the stray cats. Fat cats, skinny cats, black cats, angry cats, horny cats. The cats have no concept of day or night. At any hour you will find them, masters of their own kingdom. If you walk alone to take pictures of the beach they will dare you to walk too close to them. A different kind of bonding with nature. More authentic than a hike in the rainforest, but just as dangerous. You’ll pass by brightly colored buildings that were once painted with such promise and joy, slowly deteriorating from endless hurricanes and neglect. Like somebody’s grandmother in a nursing home who insists on dying her hair purple each week; the soul is there screaming for youth in a losing battle with time.

The three of us walked into a tall condominium in the middle of all of these cats and old dying homes and laughed. We talked about life and love. We had a few beers and watched the sun tuck itself in behind the waves. I stayed up a little later to read. I laid down a thin, scratchy light blue blanket on the cheap couch in the living room and fell asleep. Around 1:30 in the morning I began to hear her cries. I’ve always heard the word “guttural” but I’ve never truly felt it until this morning. 

Gut·tur·al

/ˈɡədərəl/

Adjective: (of a speech sound) produced in the throat; harsh-sounding.Similar: throaty, husky, gruff, gravelly, growling, croaky.

I felt her cries in my soul. I’m not good with soulful cries. I didn’t know what to do. I was paralyzed with fear. I tucked my body in tighter with the scratchy blanket the color of Robin’s eggs. I pushed my eyelids closer. I told myself it wasn’t her crying. It was a neighbor. It was a cat fucking. It was anything but what I knew it was. She came to me right then. Right then when my heart was denying that anything was wrong. All I can remember from that night is her hair. Her beautiful curly hair, stained with tears. So many tears. I held her and told her everything was ok. I lied. Everything was not ok. Why do people always say that when something horrendous happens? Everything will be ok. Maybe because saying the truth will make it infinitely worse. “Nothing will be the same again.” “You will never see him again.” “It has ended.” So instead, “Everything will be ok”. 

  My best friend held me in her arms, and her curly hair and her beautiful almond skin, and I lied to her.

The last thing my friend told me was a directive. She said, “don’t ever leave me Christina.” And I promised that I wouldn’t. I lied a second time. 

I remembered when I tried to kill myself. It was a dark night. I know that sounds cliche but it literally was dark. I was sitting in my car in the parking lot of a shopping center. There was a Dollar General. A Party City. And a Target. There was everything there in one parking lot that you needed to be a proper American adult. And I was on the phone with PSE&G. They were going to shut off my electricity and I was so concerned because my daughter was coming to stay with me that weekend. And I was 24 and I just couldn’t understand how someone could do this. How so quickly a $50 bill, could turn into a $123 bill could turn into a $263 bill and a shut off notice. I called multiple people. I called everyone I knew. Nobody had money they could lend to me. We were all in the struggle together. (allegedly) I called my brother, who was in an Ivy League school. He had no money. I knew that. My parents had already placed a second mortgage on their home to send him to that school. But I needed to hear his voice. I needed to know that he was going to be ok. 

I went back to my apartment with a pocket full of pills. Oh, you weren’t aware? Oh yes honey, you can always get drugs for free. Money for electricity? Never. Free drugs to help you ease the pain? Anywhere.

So I’m at home with enough drugs to kill a gorilla. And I was going to do it. I would have done it. Except for some reason, I couldn’t do it without leaving a note for my daughter. 

And that’s what really did it for me. 

Dear Olivia, I’m sorry, this is not your fault. 

Dear Olivia, When you get older you will understand. 

Dear Olivia, Your mom is a fucking mess.

I couldn’t write my daughter a letter. I couldn’t say goodbye. 

And ever since that night, I’ve been pretending like it didn’t happen, Like I wasn’t trying to run out on life. Maybe that’s why when you see me out I laugh a little bit too loud. I drink a little bit too much. I forgive a little bit too quickly. I pretend like I am here, when really I should have been dead 13 years ago. 

And so now I’m here, in this beautiful tropical paradise. And my best friend is crying. And all I can think of to say is “everything will be ok.” And I hate God. And I hate life. And I stay up thinking about what possible good can come out of this moment. 

And then it hits me. This moment is the good. I did not die so I could be here with you. I am here with you so you can cry on me. He had to die so we could lay here together. 

Under this scratchy ugly fucking blue blanket. We are here together with our love. 

Maybe God knows what he’s doing. Maybe God doesn’t exist. Either way, I have my friends. And I watch as the flowers drift away in the sea. And I just hope that when I die,you cry for me. And you do not allow anyone to make a funeral program with my face with photoshopped clouds behind me. 

This is my living will.