Fear. It can be crippling and life altering if you allow it to become debilitating. We all have the capacity to fear something. Unless you're a sociopath. Then it's you that is feared.
That fear can be something as small and insignificant as filing your taxes or skydiving. It can also be that sweat-inducing pounding in your chest when you apply for a new job or face foreclosure.
Fear is fear. Unless its that fear of losing someone. And nothing is worse than that except said loss being a child. This isn't to negate or invalidate the importance of any loss. I don't want to argue of the semantics of grief and how one death is more significant than another. All loss sucks. It's fucking impossible to escape it as it's part of this shit-show we call life.
We know to expect it but we are never prepared for it.
But in all seriousness, I have experienced varying degrees of loss over the last 4 years and nothing compared to the death of my father save for our two babies. And I deemed myself an expert, a connoisseur of the grieving process, dolling out sage words of wisdom and tips to others who turned to me for help or a listening ear.
Until I attended a performance art piece entitled 'Guac: My Son, My Hero' by Manuel Oliver.
Anything I thought I knew about grief, loss and fucking pain went out the window. In that moment as I sat in the front row, I was given a stark look into the reality of what it means to lose a living child especially to an act of violence.
See, Joaquin 'Guac' Oliver was one of the 17 Parkland shooting victims.
Was isn't the right word because it isn't past-tense. No amount of days or years will ever erase the fact that a 19 year old mentally unstable man was able to rob 17 individuals of their futures, hopes and dreams in the span of 7 short minutes.
This isn't going to be a rehashing on the background of this catastrophic event. The shooter doesn't deserve the print, the small amount of you who will read this know the case or at least how to use Google, and this isn't a rambling about gun violence.
Let's just say legislation won't change, but my 9 year old has monthly active shooter drills.
And I am not ok with that. Even if you are.
That sums up where I stand. I can say this as a mentally unstable person and previous gun owner.
No, this is Joaquin's story told through his father who has been able to lend his voice when his son's was silenced too soon. A man who was willing to expose the raw and ugly wounds he carried with his grief if it will change one life.
Because the love for his son could not be silenced by the shooter's gun.
This is the story of a budding activist, artist with an affinity for basketball, a fondness for Slash and his killer guitar riffs, and a untainted passion for life. As I sat there with those 60 other strangers, I didn't know what lay in store for me. When purchasing the tickets, I knew this was an interactive performance piece which warned of triggers or elements that may be found disturbing or upsetting.
This disclaimer was plastered on the door as we filed into our seats and I found it odd that people might actually not attend because of the content. When did we become so afraid of reality, we choose not to face it? What does that leave for us? Some false sense of security. Which is probably great for you. As long as nothing real ever happens.
This show was especially poignant on a day when the world woke to the loss of a sports legend and his 13 year old daughter who showed promise in following in his steps and carrying on his legacy.
Another loss of a child.
In that 90 minute show, I discovered that not only did I not know the varying degrees and depths grief can bring, but what it means to bury your child. There is a post I wrote sometime ago concerning my depression and grief over both miscarriages and I feel and see too numerous a friend traveling down the same path. Its brutal. The time and effort I have spent mourning a "what-if" of a possible life is nothing compared to the harsh and brutal reality of living without a "has-been".
I wish I had a crystal ball sometimes to see what would have been if both embryos had survived. Would they have been 2 more boys ? Would I finally have one child who looks like me? Daycare or au pair? Breast or bottle? These questions and thoughts still keep me awake at night. Especially the painful, sleepless ones.
But I rest easy in the luxury of having no face to put to the madness. I wake up secure in the knowledge that while these feelings exist, I am able to push them further and further away because it's nothing more than a fleeting glimpse into the life I could have had and didn't. And the reality of the life I am able to live now is beautiful. And that comforts me and quiets those fears.
But what if you had more than a glimpse? What if you have the answers to those questions? What if you had that life?
What if you had 17 glorious years of laughter, tears, countless games and family holidays? What if you had 17 beautiful years of friendship, secrets and dreams? A face, a name, a heartbeat to put to those questions.
And suddenly its stolen away. What is left? As I glanced around the audience, the glistening and stained cheeks shining under the dimmed lights, I saw it.
Love. That's what is left. Love. Because no amount of fear, anger, grief, sorrow or violence can take that away.
Love. One father's love for his son.
Love. One mother's love for her son.
Love. One stranger's love for another stranger.
Love. One individual's ability to love themselves.
Love. Unconditional, unbridled love filled that room and flowed over us all.
There is so much more I wish I could articulate, but for now I encourage, plead with you to educate yourself on this case and the work of the Oliver family with their foundation, Change the Ref. If you live in a city where this show is playing, please purchase a ticket. Check out all the amazing things they are doing to not only remember their son and his life, but change legislation. https://changetheref.org/
All I know is that I thought I knew true fear. And I don't and probably never will.
But I know that no amount of fear can change my ability to love and be loved.
And the world needs more of this.
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