Blessed brother of mine

It was approximately a month an a half since my brother passed. I found myself at the airport heading back to visit my mother. As I prepared to board my flight, I felt good and thought of nothing as I played a game of solitaire on my cell phone. I began to board and I walked down the dreaded cramped hallway on the plane looking for my seat. There I faced a sea of unfamiliar faces. Most were oblivious to everything that surrounded them. Some sat semi comfortably and simply looked at people as they passed by. I often wondered what they thought as each person passed by, one by one.

When I reached my seat, I found a spot were my bag would fit perfectly and received unsolicited assistance from a young man in his seventies. He was obviously raised in a different era, with the manners of a gentleman. My bag was midsized backpack with enough clothing for two days. I truly did not need the assistance yet I thanked him anyway as any lady should.

I sat down and began to feel sad, you see my last trip was to be with my family after my younger brother passed away. Suddenly the events of that day and a day prior rushed at me like freight train going off track and down a mountain. I refer to this mountain as the mountain of memories. I could feel the tears wanting to push through the rough tough steel wall of my persona. Truth is tears have not flowed though the these eyes in a long time, especially in front of people. The tendency for people like me is to go deep into a lonely tunnel and when completely alone in my cave of sadness and fear, the tears flow like a waterfall in the desert. When the water can flow no more, a deep breath rushes in like a cool breeze through the midnight sun. Then and only then, can I walk toward the ray of sunlight in the darkness and see beyond my sorrow.

As I sat, nestled in my window side seat looking beyond the clouds that appeared to be bellow us like a sea of fluffy cotton, I was deep in thought. I thought of all the blessings in my life. Even though my life is filled with struggles and worry, but who doesn't have that. I know my worries are not so much because of how I have lived but because of who I have loved and what a blessing to have loved and been loved. The memories of the that sad, helpless, and heartbreaking day, humble me and without denial have dropped me to my knees exposing what some may view as a weakness.

Then, as if a sign from above, I hear ever so clearly a voice that says, "Cast your burdens on me child, for I have a plan for you" and with that my heart is filled with love and gratitude. There are no words that can ever came close to how blessed we are each and everyday.

As we landed, I opened my eyes and smiled. I am home again if even for a day or two. I now do not say that I am heartbroken anymore. I now say that my heart is filled, so full of great memories and love for those I have lost and the lives they have lived but most importantly that they had a part in my life and for that I am grateful beyond any words, beyond any expression could ever express. There is hope in faith, wounds do heal, hearts do mend, and life does go on.

In loving memory of Randy Esparza
11/17/1994 - 8/4/2012

Written by Monica Cruz Duperon Rodriguez
October 16, 2012