10/31/2019
This is why we must keep trying to do all we can. No child should have to face what these two boys have faced, and no child should expect to die before he's 18. We mourn the loss of these two extraordinary boys.
I hesitated writing this post. At this point, I have no wise words to tie a pretty ribbon on the last paragraph. I am writing because I believe loss must be acknowledged. In this era of social media, a post is akin to a bench dedicated to a loved one in a pretty park.
I took this picture because I love these boys. I also took this picture because they loved each other. My caption says “These two walked in circles chatting for HOURS. Please be friends forever.” They had the sweetest friendship in a world of broken and dysfunctional relationships. Theirs was genuine in a way you don’t often stumble upon in male adolescence.
When Jorge was killed in Tijuana earlier this year, I thought of this picture. How did we go from celebrating the New Year and whispering secrets to death in Tijuana? Would Marlon ever know that his friend was gone?
I don’t remember when Marlon ran away. He was always sweet, kind, up for anything and a bit ditzy if I’m completely honest. A while later, I heard rumors, then started seeing him regularly hanging outside of a junior high. When one wants to discover the truth behind rumors, one much first butter the child up, get him talking and then drop a pointed question when the other is unaware. Usually. My conversation with him was different. He freely told me that yes he was in a gang (allll the way in) and yes he was selling drugs. He wasn’t proud. He wasn’t ashamed. He talked about it like I talk about drinking coffee. Of course I have three cups. What, you expect me to drink tea? In our last conversation he said that he knew he was going to die young. That everyone dies by the time they’re, like, um, 18? “Everyone?” I asked. “How old do you think I am?” He shrugged.
Marlon was killed a few weeks ago. We wouldn’t find out until the funeral was over. That whole day (that was nearly a week after it had happened) I felt like there should be some sort of string that attaches us to the kids who are gone from our everyday lives. A string that tugs when something terrible happens. What was I doing on the day that Marlon died? I think I worked out. I made my baby smile really big. I’m positive I drank eggnog. And I had no idea that he was gone from this world.
The night I took this picture we never ever would have guessed that we’d lose them both in the same year. I look at this picture and know that this is unfair. They should be playing soccer together. Talking about girls. Sharing clothes. It should not be this. Never ever this.
