Wow. The funeral service for Gilbert was very intense. Very. I have to talk about it so here goes:
First of all, Keven, his friend and I were the only non-Mexican people there. The service was in Spanish and English and the pastor did a great job of flowing back and forth between the two languages in a very natural way, I was impressed by that.
I was not prepared for an open casket. There Gilbert was, looking so incredibly handsome, with a peaceful smile on his face, but he was DEAD. I have seen quite a few dead people before but he didn't look dead at all. He looked like he was sleeping and I kept expecting him to open his eyes any minute. It was painful to see him like that. His two daughters had drawn pictures and they were in the casket next to him. He also has a son I was not aware of, he was about 11, adorable, sweet boy.
The thing that made it intense (other than the obvious fact that he is dead) was that he was at one time a gang member but was no longer active in the gang because he was older and had a family. But you could tell a lot of people that spoke were still angry with him and bitter about his gang lifestyle. Most of that talk was in Spanish but one guy that got up to speak gave a great speech on why that part of Gilbert's life was over, that the bad things he did were in the far past, that we needed to focus on the positives, forgive and let go of any hurt or anger.
I also learned that he suffered with the heartache of knowing how his addiction hurt his family, his mother, his children, his wife. They talked about how he was out of pain now, no longer suffering, no longer looking for peace through drugs.
Mostly people talked about his smile, how wonderful he was. And my son got up there and (I swear I'm not bragging - this is just how it went down) did the best speech of all. Why was it good? Because he just spoke so innocently and honestly the truth and by doing that he made everyone laugh really hard (the only laughter of the whole service) and everyone went "awwwww" and I think he said some things that needed to be said. Yet I know Keven didn't PLAN it that way, it just came out that way.
He told the story of how they met at probabtion and how he was a bit surprised when this gang looking guy (you can tell from the tats on the neck) sat down and started talking. He said "the next thing you know Gilbert had invited me to his mom's for the best frijoles in the world." Then he said how much his daughters loved him because when they saw him they would each grab onto one of his legs and not let go and he'd walk around with them like that. He talked about how Gilbert asked to see how Keven lived so he brought him down here to South OC and Gilbert felt out of place at the mall, but at home at Keven's house. He talked about how he felt cared about and safe with Gilbert, how they could talk about deep things and he trusted him, etc. etc. It was very moving and I think it showed everyone there a side to Gilbert they weren't aware of (the side that had a gringo for a friend!).
Then Gilbert's son spoke. Wow. Just a child, a little boy. Losing his dad in such a horrible way at such a young age.
Gilbert's father spoke in Spanish so I didn't get much of it, but he cried even though he tried so hard not to.
It was very emotional. I just can't get over how he looked so non-dead. I never, ever, ever want to see my son in one of those caskets or hear of any of your sons, daughters or loved ones in one of them either. It was painful to see this young man - so full of life when I saw him weeks ago - gone. A shell.
Thanks, I needed to share this.
Peace, Hope and Love, Barbara
13 comments:
oh my God,...that's just awful,...I'm so sorry. ugh. :( Glad that Keven could speak like that,..I'm sure he was glad he did too. All just so tragic,...nothing good to say about this. I hate drugs
I so appreciate the fact that you attended the funeral Barbara. I was amazed this week by the absence of friends at the two funerals I attended this week.
The only wake I have ever gone to was my own brother who died in a rehab center. He was 31 years old. He was an addict and had a seizure and never woke up. His name was Steven. I have such a clear memory of how he looked, I have never been able to go to another wake again. He looked like he was asleep but I wanted him to be in jeans and a t-shirt because that suit just didn't look like him. I dream about it every once in awhile only in my dream I beg my mother to let him wear pajama's. Don't ask I have no idea why? Traumatic would be a good word. I was 20 years old and had just given birth to J. He never got to meet him.
Sounds like a beautiful ceremony.
I wanted to share soemthing with you I found at my doctor's office. It may not be available where you are, but it is worth a call. It may help you with your meds. It is called Kerr Health Specialty Pharmacy. They help people recieve discounted medications. www.kerrhealth.com
The number is (866)443-1904. I don't know anything more about it than what I have mentioned,so it may be a bust!
In life, not many things are final. Death is final. One can only hope that Gilberts death will impact someone toward final recovery. Blessings my friend.
I am glad that you went and Keven shared about his friend.
Lori,
I hate drugs too. Its amazing how many lives they destroy, not just the addicts but all those who love him are affected too. Sad to see Gilbert's young children fatherless...
Bob, that's sad. I hope you don't have to go to any more for a long time.
Moms, that is tragic. I remember you sharing that story with me when we first "met". Maybe the dream was your way of processing the loss and saying you wish he were not gone, or that he had died a natural death...or something like that. I'm so sorry you had to experience such a huge loss :(
Lemon,
I love lemons by the way :) Thanks for this, i am going to check them out!!!!
Michael, Amen to that!
Syd, thank you. I'm glad he did too.
Such a hard day. I'm glad Keven had a chance to celebrate Gilbert life for everyone there.
God bless.
Blind Melon is my favorite band. And my favorite Blind Melon song is Lemonade...hence, BMelonsLemonade....
Lemon, I had NO IDEA that's how you got your name, even though I thought of Blind Melon the first time I saw you! Silly me. Did you cry when Shannon Hoon died? I did.
Barbara, thanks for posting about the funeral. I'm catching up on blog-reading today. You must have been so proud of Keven.
An open casket does sound a bit strange. I can see some people would have a difficult time accepting one.
If it were my friend or family member, I think I would like to see them in there. That way, instead of them just "vanishing away" as it feels, I'd know and see and be forced to accept that's where they are. In that casket, where I can see them dead.
One of my best friends died about 2 years ago. She was in her late 50s, had been a heroin addict for over 35 years. I first met her as my dealer and friendship grew from there. Every now and then I'd spend all afternoon up at her flat, just the two of us. Sometimes we piped and talked, other times we just drank and hit up heroin. You know, as addicts do. I remember shortly before she died, I decided of all the people I knew, she was my favourite. Not my "best friend" or "closest friend", but my favourite person. For this reason I kept a certain distance, as she tended to bring people ultra-close for a time, then that friendship inevitably faded. Our friendship lasted 8 years because I saw this pattern and kept some distance ~ so nothing faded.
She died suddenly, not from an overdose but from multiple system failure. She's at least the second person in that group of friends to die this way. The paramedics spent half an hour trying to revive her, but she went.
For a month I was numb. I was not up to attending a funeral full of people I didn't know. The very last thing I wanted was to hear a priest summing up the life of this lady who was hopelessly addicted to heroin, lived for heroin and crack and drink, and was the very best person she could be despite all this. I didn't need to hear any platitudes. So I didn't go.
Afterwards I bumped into her best friend round the corner from her place. He fished in his bag and brought out a tiny card, the order of service, which showed my friend aged about 4 years old in a ballet tutu. Ever so young and innocent, with not a hint of what she would become. When I saw that I finally cried. I cried like a rainstorm for days and days. I so much wished and still wish she hadn't gone, but she has. And it's so unfair.
That was a beautiful post you wrote. Sorry to go on about my own stuff, you just reminded me and I felt like shareing. I hope you don't mind.
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