Remember when I used to write about my weekends? Typically, they involved one or more nights of bar-hopping, house parties to be DJed, meeting new people, new women, dinner with friends, gaming on Saturday afternoons, sleeping late on Sunday before groggily going to spend time with the fam, making trips upstate to visit old school friends or ( Read more... )

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Yesterday would have been my nephew's 24th birthday, instead it marks 4 days shy of the anniversary of his death ( Read more... )

One of my earliest memories is of awakening to the rain. We were on our way back from a church trip down to Washington D.C. to see the monuments and such. Not that I remember that that was where we were coming home from. I only know because I have been told countless times throughout my childhood whenever I would ask about "the time of the rain ( Read more... )

On Saturday, I went with my mom and sister to visit mi abuela at the nursing home in Coney Island. We planned to spend a couple of hours with her before going home for a birthday dinner and gift-giving for my sister. I say "home", but I really mean my mom's place, but she gets upset if I refer to it as her house. "Mientras que estoy viva, esto ( Read more... )

And on it goes. . . I find myself in a low place today. Even the Mets taking eight of their last nine games, sweeping both the Braves and the Astros and moving to 20 games over .500 cannot lift me out of this funk ( Read more... )

Here is a pic of me and my nephew this past February when he was back in the States on leave:


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I wanted to be able to come back from GEN CON with humorous tales of fun games and meet-ups, but alas, that is not to be. It is not because it was a bad con, all things considered it was pretty good, but on Thursday night, after a day of fun and games, I received a voice mail message from my sister. I was to call home. It was an emergency ( Read more... )

I prefer it when I am the only one there when I go to visit mi abuelaI can sit there and quietly talk to her the way I always have, holding her hand, or stroking her hair, or punctuating my soothing words with soft kisses on her forehead when she gets agitated. I sing her songs she sang to me when I was young, or re-tell the Mets game play-by- ( Read more... )

I had a hard time falling asleep last night. I was thinking about mi abuela, and about death in general ( Read more... )