Several posts today, I guess...
So, one of the groups I belong to, Scrapbrats, has a new Blog Topic Ring going on for our blogs, and I really LOVED the idea of this weeks theme. Jacquie, our beautiful scrappindiva, asked us to answer the question, "I wish I knew {then} what I know {now}" (paraphrased in my own words.)
First thing that came to my mind was my father's mantra. He always told us the following:
"Never regret anything you do. Because when you live with integrity in your heart, and trying to follow your principles, you will always have made the decision you thought was best for you. Learn from your mistake, but never, ever regret them"
With that, I thought, my case was closed. I pretty much have lived my life as best as I've possible have been able to, trying to be the best person I can, and failing innumerable occasions, many more than I care to count. But everytime I have been accountable for my mistakes, I have owned up to them, and I have been able to stand up again, stronger than I ever thought I was. Everytime I thought "I will never come out of this one" (because I must admit, I'm of a pesimistic nature), I have suprised myself. I am proud of who I am, and after 37 years, I have learned to love who I am completely, honestly. I feel fulfilled.
BUT, that said... I grew up very close to uncle Franky and aunty Bebe. They are my mom's youngest brother and sister, and they are just a few years older than I am, 8 and 5 years, respectively. Uncle Franky actually moved to the town where I grew up in Mexico to go to college. He graduated as an attorney around 1985.
Then, around 1988, he came back to Chicago, to try and validate his studies here, and start a life in this loved America of ours. I didn't see him very often then, but I would call him at least once a month, and kept him updated with my life in college myself, as a foreign student, just like he was. In the summer of 1990, when I turned 21, my dad surprised me with a trip to Europe and Israel. My birthday is June 26, and I was leaving on July 2nd. Barely time to get my French visa, passport, everything in order.
And go and say bye to Grandpa Luis and Grandma Tere, of course. And as I start making my suitcase, who calls telling me he's coming? Uncle Franky, of course! Oh, I was so upset! I was going to go spend a night with my grandparents, so I chose the night he was coming to town, so that I could go to the airport and be in the "reception comitee".
He was so changed, in my eyes, anyways. I was 21, he was 29, and we were at different ends of life, I suppose. But I just didn't like him that much. He seemed not as sweet as always, so adult-like... And I told him, you are so different now. I think I was disappointed? I can't even find the word. But the next day, I came back home, and got ready for my trip, which I enjoyed tremendously. It was two months long, so I wouldn't see him at all. His plane went back three days before I got back.
Anyways, I called him again to Chicago when I went back to campus, and we were best friends again, as usual. I thought I would go visit him at the end of the semester, when I would graduate, and we'd take a couple of road trips around the midwest. i had such great plans to spend time with him.
And on October 28th, he was gone. He died of AIDS in a hospital in Chicago. Nobody in Mexico new in the early 80s about this new illness, when he had a medical emergency and blood transfussions were needed when his surgery was going bad.
I can't talk about this anymore. It still hurts so bad. That wound has never really healed, and his place in my heart has never been replaced by any of my other uncles. I love them all dearly, but nobody was as kind, giving, awsomely funny and compassionate like him. I miss him terribly, and always tell Brian that I wish he would have known him. They would've had me in stitches everytime. He had an excellent voice, had his own band, and sang like the angels. I guess now he does him with them, in Heaven where I'm sure I will see him again.
This is my only everlasting regret. This is the only thing I wish I knew then, because no trip to anywhere was worth the time I didn't get to spend with him.
I miss you, Uncle Franky, with all my heart. I so wish I knew then...
First thing that came to my mind was my father's mantra. He always told us the following:
"Never regret anything you do. Because when you live with integrity in your heart, and trying to follow your principles, you will always have made the decision you thought was best for you. Learn from your mistake, but never, ever regret them"
With that, I thought, my case was closed. I pretty much have lived my life as best as I've possible have been able to, trying to be the best person I can, and failing innumerable occasions, many more than I care to count. But everytime I have been accountable for my mistakes, I have owned up to them, and I have been able to stand up again, stronger than I ever thought I was. Everytime I thought "I will never come out of this one" (because I must admit, I'm of a pesimistic nature), I have suprised myself. I am proud of who I am, and after 37 years, I have learned to love who I am completely, honestly. I feel fulfilled.
BUT, that said... I grew up very close to uncle Franky and aunty Bebe. They are my mom's youngest brother and sister, and they are just a few years older than I am, 8 and 5 years, respectively. Uncle Franky actually moved to the town where I grew up in Mexico to go to college. He graduated as an attorney around 1985.
Then, around 1988, he came back to Chicago, to try and validate his studies here, and start a life in this loved America of ours. I didn't see him very often then, but I would call him at least once a month, and kept him updated with my life in college myself, as a foreign student, just like he was. In the summer of 1990, when I turned 21, my dad surprised me with a trip to Europe and Israel. My birthday is June 26, and I was leaving on July 2nd. Barely time to get my French visa, passport, everything in order.
And go and say bye to Grandpa Luis and Grandma Tere, of course. And as I start making my suitcase, who calls telling me he's coming? Uncle Franky, of course! Oh, I was so upset! I was going to go spend a night with my grandparents, so I chose the night he was coming to town, so that I could go to the airport and be in the "reception comitee".
He was so changed, in my eyes, anyways. I was 21, he was 29, and we were at different ends of life, I suppose. But I just didn't like him that much. He seemed not as sweet as always, so adult-like... And I told him, you are so different now. I think I was disappointed? I can't even find the word. But the next day, I came back home, and got ready for my trip, which I enjoyed tremendously. It was two months long, so I wouldn't see him at all. His plane went back three days before I got back.
Anyways, I called him again to Chicago when I went back to campus, and we were best friends again, as usual. I thought I would go visit him at the end of the semester, when I would graduate, and we'd take a couple of road trips around the midwest. i had such great plans to spend time with him.
And on October 28th, he was gone. He died of AIDS in a hospital in Chicago. Nobody in Mexico new in the early 80s about this new illness, when he had a medical emergency and blood transfussions were needed when his surgery was going bad.
I can't talk about this anymore. It still hurts so bad. That wound has never really healed, and his place in my heart has never been replaced by any of my other uncles. I love them all dearly, but nobody was as kind, giving, awsomely funny and compassionate like him. I miss him terribly, and always tell Brian that I wish he would have known him. They would've had me in stitches everytime. He had an excellent voice, had his own band, and sang like the angels. I guess now he does him with them, in Heaven where I'm sure I will see him again.
This is my only everlasting regret. This is the only thing I wish I knew then, because no trip to anywhere was worth the time I didn't get to spend with him.
I miss you, Uncle Franky, with all my heart. I so wish I knew then...
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