Book of D: Good Luck Babe #goodluckbabe #chappelroan #petrol

Book of D: Dream of Petro

The timeline of last night's dream is current day 2024, and it began with you asking me for help via a text message. You sounded so despondent, so I called you. I arranged for us to meet in person. Things got complicated as old feelings arose. We became one for a brief but beautiful moment in time. The old feelings returned as if they had been on hold for mere minutes versus the actual decades that have passed us by in real-life. Everything I had ever felt for you overcame me like nothing I had ever experienced. I believe you felt the same for me.

After our beautiful encounter, we both felt badly. Not for what we had expressed to each other through love, but because neither one of us was free - as we each had spouses.

I recall in the dream that as we rediscovered our feelings, we were at your previous childhood home, the home where your late mom and dad had welcomed this lost soul into the family. The home where I found solace, if only for a brief period of my life, while I was trying so hard to hold on to you and our love. As long as we were together, I was happy in that house. The house where many acts of our love were created. 

So, yes, in the dream, we decided to stop fighting the feelings we had denied for many years and just try to be together. But, as in real life, we became too cerebral and gave in to mindfulness of others. We stupidly decided to weigh our options, if that's what you want to call them, before we proceeded to be together. We decided to talk to other people about the dilemma facing us. We wanted to be mindful and quell as much of the hurt that our relationship might inflict on others. What fuckery that turned out to be.

The dream continued with me going to visit my late mom; she was still alive and living in my childhood home. You went to visit your late parents (both also still alive) at your aforementioned childhood home. As I spoke to my mom about you and our reunion, she immediately guessed what had actually happened between us. I confessed that I had slept with you. My mom knew the love I had always had for you. In fact, the first time you and I broke up, my mom was the first person I called. I was not out, so I lied and said you were a male friend, but, deep down, I know she knew it was you. I cried so hard trying to express my heartache over having lost you. My mom pretty much told me, in a gentle and loving manner, to remember the woman I was and deal with it because I was the only one in control of how my future life would progress: I could choose to be happy or sad. Side-note: In real-life, mom, I have tried really hard for the former: to be happy. Anyway, in the dream, my mom told me to fight for you. She said to forget what others thought or said. She added that you needed help to be strong and that I should help you to be strong. How insightful my late mom was - in the dream as she was in real-life.

Meanwhile, you had a meeting with your folks. Your mom was extremely mad and upset at your news about you and me. However, your dad was understanding. I always loved your dad for his humanity and ability to just listen and be aware. In real-life, your mom and I had a complex relationship. She loved me as I loved her, but she preferred me as your "friend," and nothing else. I am certain that she knew the truth about us. So, naturally in the dream, your mom urged you to return to your spouse and children - although your children are currently adults, but in my dream, they were still young. Your dad intervened and said you needed to be happy and choose love above everyone else. He added that you had already sacrificed enough of yourself for others.

In the dream, I am not sure what exactly transpired following your conversation with your parents, but you ended up back with your spouse and children. You ignored my texts and calls. I was frantic with worry that I had lost you forever this time. I did not want to face the loss of you again. 

I went back to my childhood home in the dreadful dream, but my mom was gone; her absence was unexplained - and it was a huge heartache all its own. But, one of my sisters was there. You remember that sister - the one you knew really well back when you and I were together. My sister lovingly advised me to be prepared and resilient because it seemed as though you were being coerced into complacency. In other words, you were likely being ushered toward choosing family over self - again.

I fell asleep in the dream. I didn't want to be awake because that meant I had to face you not being with me. In the dream, I waited for such a long time to hear from you. Sadly, the next time you communicated with me in the dream was in writing. You didn't even have the courage to call me much less to see me in person. My guess is that perhaps an in-person meeting would only further confuse you. Maybe it would make you change your mind to fully give "us" another try. Maybe you would finally pick yourself and love first. Who knows, my dear Petro!

So, as the dream ominously continued, your only form of contact with me was a package with letters you had written me in previous years but never sent. In one letter, you asked about my late dad and if it was true that he had died in 2007. That was odd because you never knew my dad. He died in 1983 a few years prior to 1989 when you and I actually became best friends. Some of the other letters were obscure and I did not read them in the dream. The only current letter in the package was you asking me to forgive and let you go. You included a cropped picture of yourself, you looked sad. You had stitches and a bandaid over the corner of your right eye. You went on to write, "This is the last scar I can take in my life. No more scars. I need peace. I need you to please let me go. Have a good life." 

So, in my dream, my actual nightmare of over 30 years was rehashed: I had lost you once more. I was heartbroken in the dream, and all I wanted was to see you or at least talk to you over the phone. I wanted my one-last-plea; the one I never had in real-life. My attempts to speak to you in the dream were in vain as my means of communication were intercepted by your husband.

The next day in my strange dream, I woke up, still at my childhood home, with a car (an older grey Chrysler) parked in the street in front of the house. Apparently, the car was left there for me by your spouse to offset the expenses I made so you and I could see each other. Plus, other previous expenses I made to help you out. It seemed that your husband did not want there to be any ties, emotional or financial, between us - as if he was paying off anything he thought would make you beholden to me. Inside the older Chrysler, there was a legal size manila envelope. It included a copy of the car's title signed over to me by your husband, some money, a picture of you (the same one with the bandaid and stitches) only it was uncropped and zoomed out with your kids and spouse in it (you still looked sad), and a picture of your work id showing you worked for the city of Pasadena (I have no idea what any of that meant, especially the work id). 

So finally, I woke up in real-time, real-life and sure I was shaken up. The feelings of you leaving me again were too much. Plus, it only enhanced the woe I have felt all these years from having been estranged from you - an estrangement not of my choosing. As I laid awake and recounted your monosyllabic letter in the dream about scars, I thought how apropos had I responded with this: "I understand about the scars. Although my scars are invisible, they hurt just as much. I also need to be allowed to live in peace." 

My dear Petro, I must admit that I still miss you, but waking up to all those negative feelings was too consuming. Just as such, I decided to get up, be positive, and write as much about the dream to help me cope. Writing for me has always been cathartic.

I don't know why I dream about you. I hope you are happy and fulfilled and that you are hoping the same for me. I doubt I will ever see or speak to you again. It's doubtful for a myriad of reasons. I guess I have to fully accept that fact and be somewhat satisfied with just seeing you in dreams. I just wish for better dreams with positive outcomes where no one gets her heart broken - especially me. I've had enough. It's quite enough. Enough!

--- Thank you to my wife of over 26 years for giving me so much love and support. But mostly for the courage she has instilled in me that allows me to write down all the things that ail and aid me. 

~ *Olive Juice*!!!

Book of D: The Reminders

No matter how far I go or how much I do with my life, at some point, the reminders of those I wish to forget just hits me like a fucking ton of bricks.

But, I recover my feelings from being swallowed up by blackness. I remember the good things that replaced the negative people and their bullshit. I focus on the fact that during all these years, as I've aged and matured, my life is finally filled with those who were supposed to be in it.

Those absent from it are obsolete with names replaced with passing monikers and justified adjectives.

Book of D: Living the Exigent Life

Lately, life has been quite demanding, heartbreaking, and so many other gerunds of negative context all bundled up. For one, my niece is still battling breast cancer HER2, my brother-in-law passed away, and my nephew took his own life. No one ever said that life was going to be easy. For certain, they never said that loss would be either. When one person experiences a loss, there is another one who is experiencing the complete opposite. This fact of antonyms and opposite reactions is what makes loss so unfair. It is the true definition of "life goes on." The world does not stop to mourn your loss or to acknowledge the loved one you just lost. The world keeps turning and people keep churning. Pardon the quirky rhyme, but as silly as the analogy might be, it is true. The word exigent has many definitions, but in today's blog post, I meant it in the way that life demands that we keep moving forward, whether we are ready to do so or whether our heart is too broken to leave the house, life deems that we live. It doesn't mean we have to live according to anyone else's expectations, but it does mean that we have to put forth some kind of effort to be a part of life. Although my niece is still with us, and for that I am a billion times grateful, seeing her go through the pain of chemotherapy and immunotherapy and the myriads of complications caused by the c-monster has been awful. Never were the words, "if I could trade places with you," truer than now and how I would gladly take my wonderful, brave niece's place in her battle. The heartache that accompanies this tired, ole body of mine is caused by feeling so damn powerless. As powerless as when I lost my beautiful, magnanimous mom to esophageal cancer in 2011. As powerless as when my strong, hard-working brother-in-law lost his battle with pancreatic cancer this past June 14th. But the despondency caused by the loss of my sweet, mindful 20-year-old nephew through suicide was just unconscionable. So, here I am, just a meager shell of a person, trying to make sense of things that I didn't give much thought to in the past. Things that are beyond my scope. Remembering that life is – and will always be – exigent, and as mere mortals, we have to go through the motions - whatever that entails.

Book of D: No Logical Progression

One of my mentors said the following words about her son, whom she lost to cancer earlier this year: "The hardest part of my grief is learning how to live without you. Life isn't linear, I know this, but I expected a logical progression of your life."

You died way too young, my sweet nephew Ryan. The hope that should often accompany a person's life was ripped from yours - I don't know when it happened or why, I am only sorry that nothing or no one could save you from the harrowing thoughts that perhaps led you to believe that your life was not important enough to keep on living.

I was so angry when someone stated that she had been expecting a phone call saying that you had died, but she thought your death would be because you drove too fast and recklessly or because of drugs. I must admit that I was taken aback by her statement, and this indignant but loving aunt had to bite her tongue in patience and peace and not bark back by saying how awful those remarks were.

I had different expectations for you, Ryan. My expectation for a logical progression of your life had replaced any negative thoughts I might have ever had of you from the first time you attempted to take your life. I saw a different, more hopeful Ryan after that failed attempt. I saw a Ryan who was more aware of his importance on this earth. I saw a Ryan who knew his loved ones adored and needed him. My expectation of a longer life for you, Ryan, was seeing you be a dad again to Luna (in November) and regaining your parental right to Gaia ("Baby Gaga"). My expectation included seeing you be a wonderful "girl dad!" My expectation included seeing you get your G.E.D. and becoming a chef, or whatever profession your heart desired. My expectation included seeing you love hard, being happy, helping others, but it never included outliving you, sweet Ryan. Death should be for the elderly who have had a chance to live life to the fullest. Death should not wait for the young. I have no words for anyone who would expect the death of a young person. I don't tolerate that thought process, and I will never succumb to it. My logical expectation of a longer life for you, Ryan, will remain unfulfilled.

Perhaps in another lifetime, the world will be kinder to you, Ryan, and it will grant you a long, happy, healthy life with lots of beautiful children, a loving spouse, and an equally supportive and loving family and circle of friends. 

I'll always love and remember you.

Love ~ Tia D.

Book of D: For Ryan

I saw you.

Ryan had an infectious laugh. Most who knew him have mentioned his laugh and beautiful smile. I will miss seeing his smile and the slight dimples that would appear on his cheeks if you were lucky enough to see him smile big. I will miss his laugh that would often fill a room and create the need for others to reciprocate it. Mostly, I will miss his hugs. He wasn’t a side hugger. He hugged you strong, face to face, for a long time. He didn’t fool around with his hugs. If he truly cared about you, his hugs were the way he expressed it. 

He wasn’t easily impressed. He wasn’t easily intimidated either. Not the Ryan I knew. He just wanted to be happy. Moreover, he wanted his loved ones to be happy. He didn’t try to impress others by how much he knew. I clearly remember this one time, when he was driving us to buy dinner for the family, and he said, out of the blue, that he knew he wasn’t smart – he quickly added that he was not as smart as he knew he could be. He went on to say that he knew that by reading he could improve his vocabulary. I told him that was cool, but why try to improve your vocabulary when others might not understand them fancy words you learned. We laughed loud and hard. But, I went on and encouraged him to read more and to learn as much as he could but to always be true to himself. I tried to impress upon him to be genuine because if his motives for learning something were to impress others or to get their approval, then he should question the character of those people. 

He was not perfect, but neither am I. He just loved genuinely and sometimes he tripped. I, too, have tripped in trying to express my love and other emotions to my loved ones. 

He had thoughts that none of us knew about and thoughts that he probably couldn’t express or understand. In the end, Ryan was just too kind, mindful, forgiving, and caring for this often too cruel world. Maybe he was affected by pathogenic beliefs. These are a belief system that interferes with our way of dealing with those older than us or in higher authority. It unfairly teaches us to respect our elders no matter what, and it teaches us to not question those with authority. The pathogenic belief system is indirectly taught and learned early in one’s life and mostly plagues minorities – especially Hispanics. The system clouds a person’s ability to properly express or defend himself. You know how as children our parents usually taught us to show respect because they said so: "you better show respect because I said so" ... "you be nice to tia Maria even when she pinches your cheeks too hard because she's getting old" or "don't talk back to tio Jose even when he calls you a cabron!" Yeah, these things we're taught are silly as I recall them, but they have been scientifically proven to be damaging to a young person, enough that he carries that negative learning system into adulthood with no positive coping mechanism. You let those in authority and power mistreat you because that's what mami and papi taught me when they said I had to be respectful of my elders. All of this makes a person's emotions fester and show up often in negative ways. We must do better in the area of mental health . Look and listen. Never look and judge. It just takes 5 minutes for a person to decide to do something irreparable, but it takes less time to talk someone down. For Ryan, I promise to do better!

Book of D: Wero: One Day Closer 😩

Book of D: WERO

It's Friday, June 14th. You passed away at 7:15 pm. Your entire family was with you: your wife Eva, your daughters Erica and Felicia, your son-in-law Nick, and your grandbabies Ava and Noah. They were all there, Wero, by your side - like always - to bid you farewell and to help make your journey back Home to meet your Maker a more calm and peaceful experience. 

Your family was enjoying dinner in your hospital room (Nick was taking Ava to Ross to buy a gift for a friend's birthday, but they immediately went back to MMH) when Erica noticed your erratic breathing and quite possibly your last breath. Needless to say, your wife, my sister Eva, and your daughters were shocked and heartbroken that you had passed away. I won't discuss more because you were there, my brother-in-law, and you know what actually happened. You knew your family was at some peaceful point in life, so you decided it was okay to leave this world. 

You waited an entire day to pass away, and I'd like to think that you waited because you didn't want to leave on your late son's birthday (June 13th). You wanted Philip (your junior) to be able to have his birthday all to himself; after all, Philip was such a remarkable human, and he deserves to be remembered all on his own. As you know, Philip was so young, and he was taken from you, your family, from all of us - much too soon. I take great peace knowing that Philip (*Epé*) was there, at the Pearly Gates, after St. Peter gave you the third degree, that is 😉, to greet you Home. I love you so much, Wero. I'll miss you forever! 

Book of D: The Bathroom Chase

I had dream that one of my nieces kept following me around the hospital to every bathroom I went to use. I'm not sure what to even think of that except maybe that I need to watch out for her during this difficult ordeal that has pretty much stolen her dad from her and slowly devastated her family. All I know is that I'll be more mindful of my niece during these next strenuous, heartbreaking days.