This Grief

Today our wold was rocked.
My mother's sister, my aunt Francisca, called to give us bad news. My cousin Paco, was killed. He lived in Mexico, and we all knew he was wrapped up in some bad stuff with some drug dealers. My aunt had told him multiple times to try to get out of it. Almost everyone in our family had warned him of the danger he was putting himself in. But he refused to listen to anyone.


It's strange for me, so strange, to be talking about someone I should have known better in the past tense.


He lived with my mother, on and off, for most of his childhood. My mother was a mess when she found out, so naturally I was not. When everyone else breaks down, I don't. I can't. For me, grief is a private event. It's this monster that you deal with alone, in the dark, in a room, by yourself. So when everyone else around me can't handle it, I pat, I hug, and I change the subject. I'm so good at avoiding. It's okay to cry. I know that. But to cry in front of everyone, where the world can see your grief, that's not okay with me. I carry my grief on the inside, until I can release it later.


My cousin died. They buried him today. I didn't know him that well. I have a few memories I attach to him, but mostly, Paco is a part of my before world. Before we moved to United States, before we met my dad, before my real life started, before. He lived with us in Mexico. According to my mother, I loved him. I loved to be around him and he played with me but I was so little that I don't remember that. When we lived in Salem, he was there too. He and my other cousins once broke my tricycle, but I didn't mind.


All I have of him are moments, glimpses into who he was. I have these memories that are short and not enough. You can spend most of your life not missing someone, until you realize that all you can do now is miss them.


I don't run from things. I face them head on. I want details and facts and something to hold on to. But my cousin was buried today, and the police is refusing to release any information on how it happened.


Today our world was rocked and I chose to remain absolutely still. In the stillness, no harm can reach you.


God Bless us all. Rest in peace Francisco Javier Naranjo.