A Prayer To My Dead Father

And I know that I wasn't there to see your last breath but your older daughter Diva saw it and that's how it had to be. She loved you first and I love you always. I got there late, you were lying down, dead. I cried like a little kid who just cries without knowing why for. And that wasn't you laying there, it was only your body but I still cried and beg you for forgiveness because I wanted to had been there to see your last breath.

I wonder if that hurt you, if breathing one last time was like pulling out all the pain in one single huff. Did you hover and see how your children where all there for you. You were so loved. My mother talk to you as if you were alive and I realized that she loved you more than I. And believe me that's almost impossible but she still does. I miss you today because I feel sad that you aren't around to tell me how much you like me. Lately, I've been feeling terribly unworthy and I don't know how to stop feeling like that.


I was never brave as you. I tried hard to be more like you but Patricia was always more like you. And that's still ok because having her around me reminds of your vitality that was. Remember how You never said NO to me, never. I sometimes hated how much you love me because I would then feel responsible for Kelvyn. And Kelvyn was the sweetest little brother anyone could ever have. He is so sensitive and genius- like and I wasn't. I went by the rules to try to impress you and Nelly. I always worry that I should do whatever pleased you and mother. I wanted to be good. And I am not sure that I am good enough, and that I've let you down because I found that career that school was supposed to bestow on me, hasn't really payed off. You made fun of college saying that real life was the best college in the world. But in fact, real life hasn't taught me the kind of coping skills to deal with a people that refuse to give me a shot at work, unkind and selfish people. If you were here you would tell me that these people aren't even good enough to keep my company. And I would believe you and move on. How I miss that.

Why did you like me so much? I also miss knowing that when you were around. I miss your smile and blue/green eyes that always look at me with so much admiration and tenderness. As I could do no wrong. Ever. I hope I was a good son to you because I don't have a son to be good to and have not a way of measuring what a good son is.

Life is so uncertain lately that I hope I see you soon so that you can reassure me that I was a good son to you. "No se preocupe juancito, mijito, usted es tan guapo y muy inteligente algo le ha de salir."

Tonight I miss you from the soul --you are part of me and i can't touch, smell, see you. I remember how you like how I dress and then you would try to get the same jeans. I remember how I would play with your curly hair, I love smelling your neck and I love your confidence and simpleness. Everyone loved you. You were the craziest, most handsome father ever. If you are listening to me typing, please know that I am beginning to look like you. My body is shaping like yours, you are my blood, my bones, my DNA legacy.

Where ever you may be, come visit me because things aren't going well and I need assurance that I am who I am, and that that is good enough. That I can prevail during these dark economic times. That I can deal with the Hollywood bourgeoisie and their at all cost.

In this town, People don't respect people, they are just stepping stones. Why is it that they won't let me in there club? And when Am I going to stop caring? Tonight, Now, forget the movie and storytelling, maybe not in this life for me. And how did I become weak? Maybe because the last three years I've been beat up badly by destiny. Forcing to be part of something that doesn't want me. I have to leave this industry, it's the most superficial place that's not only made me weak, insecure and hopeless but hasn't aged me and lessen my belief in goodness. Or Am just being sensitive? Who cares If I am. I just want OUT. Help me papi find a respectable job that pays for merit.

Now some good news: I found an angel, George Freeman, who cares about me deeply and you would love him too. He will make you laugh and you will make him laugh. And other great news is that you have new nephews that look like you and one of them looks like me. And lastly, my mother always thinks about you. And We are trying to keep her as the lady that you marry. I am feel so shitty that You gave us everything and now I can't even take care of Nelly financially. I am ashamed that I haven't been able to be more like you. A strong provider. But thanks to Patricia, mother doesn't need anything. I miss you/your son always. PS: Give me a sign that you are with me, Please.

Viejo Mi Querido Viejo, where are you? Are you alright?

Papi Beto, you were the best father any son would have loved to have. Don't abandoned me in moments like these. I need your strength. Thank you, amen.

Adieu 2008, Salut 2009!

Ending 2008 was the biggest event of that year for me. Unemployed more than a year, accepting life on life terms had been extremely difficult. Working had been more than a job, it was my identify card that without it, gave me anxiety and the kind of self-consciousness that breeds insecurity and unworthiness about being. Suddenly, I was embarrassed to be alive without work --the insidious shame began creeping into the core of my psyche since it already had a field day with my body. Sciatic and back pain, psoriasis and other bodily ailments were symptoms of how shame was winning the day. If it weren't for my partner who has been the most supportive person in my life, I would have left Los Angeles and sought the comfort of my family, who love me more than I know. Family is better than chicken soup, they comfort you unconditionally. Or at least, some of my family members really do.

So we had planned a NY trip for the holidays. On the way to the airport, I was excited to be seeing old friends, walking a white Central Park, visiting St. John the Divine on Xmas Eve and going to the Marlene Dumas exhibit. But lo and behold, at the security counter, I protested with my license when I was asked for my passport, "...but I am only going to NY". The airport security guard said, "No you're not..." My partner pulled out my passport, "she is right...". Like a SURPRISED-MONKEY, I first did not know what to say but then an overwhelming feeling of Joy forced me to jump, as I realized we were off to London and then Paris. What a perfect way to end the year, in the luminous city where I studied Baudelaire and other great French poets.


Flying Virgin Atlantic on the airbus in the Upper Class makes 11+ horrible hours seemed pleasant enough. The service was optimal, the interior of the plane also was incredibly comfortable --especially when the seats turn into beds. Now getting through Heathrow will forever be a nuisance --why can that airport be remodeled? But arriving at the Soho Hotel and breathing in the London air was the beginning of a perfect vacation. (Notice how many "perfect" will pop up.)


That night we had the amazing opportunity to see "Piaf," a musical about Edif Piaf's life. What a "perfect" precursor to the city of lights. The performances were top caliber, especially the lead, an Argentine wonderactress and her co-lead, Luke Evans, the next Clark Gables of our time...Every second of that musical was magical along with the Vaudeville theater's interior. It transport anyone to a time when theater was an artform: important, smart, fun and beautiful. It would be great if NY City had more Off-Broadway intimate musicals.


When we got to Paris, everything was more: the hotel, Pavillon de la Reine (at Place the Vosges,) the Seine, the Pont Neuf, the Notre Dame, the Hotel de Ville, Hermes, Victor Hugo cafe, the lit Ferris wheel at Place de la Concorde, the Breguet Museum, St. Germain des Pres, Rue Raspail, Pre Catalan and the restaurants (especially the Capon dinner,) the long walks along the quai with the cold Parisian wind caressing my face, the art of being elegantly dressed for the ballet at the Paris Opera, the croissants and the love for those same things mentioned that my partner also experienced. It was heaven, not quite sure why, but it filled me. Especially at night: the lights everywhere against a velvet blue sky, the search beam on top of Tour Eiffel, piercing through the night, highlighted the elegance and greatness of Paris.


Paris four times a year will be "perfect" in 2009...although London is a powerful city, nothing like the sound of Joyeux Noel or Bon Nuit from the English concierge at Pavillon de la Reine when ending a Parisian day.