November 29, 2008

• Ronny

  The hardest things to get through in the present…are the things that you will draw strength from in the future.   ~Bethany

  Well, since I’m only here at Jerry’s every once in a while, I figured I’d make a day of it, and do two posts at once. =)

  I’ve been thinking of Ronny a lot lately, for some reason, and the memories kinda wash over me in waves. I still miss him. In February, it’ll be 4 years since he died, and I guess it seems even longer than that for me. Like he’s been gone for a very, VERY long time…and then, at other times, it seems like I can still hear his laugh and listen to him rant about something, just like yesterday  was the last time I saw him.

  I never told him goodbye. I knew he was going to visit friends at the beach, and I had planned to say goodbye, and get my usual hug when he went away on his little journeys, but this time, he was gone before I realized it, and so I never got that last hug. It hurts…but it doesn’t debilitate anymore. I have many memories with him…enough that saying goodbye wasn’t that important. Besides, I’ll see him again someday, so it would only have been “See-ya-later” anyway…

  Ronny was the clown of the family. He always kept everyone laughing. The center of every laughing crowd. A leader. Very commanding. I remember him bossing me around in a way that’d make me pause and make him say please. I’d put my hands on my hips and huff at him, then say, “Please?” He’d grin and say, “Thankyou!” Misunderstanding me on purpose. He’d finally give in though after I’d glare at him long enough. See, I HAD to teach him some manners…who else would?  

  He was amazing with any kind of musical instrument. Played the piano and guitar the best, but also messed around with a bass, violin, flute, and even a banjo, which is very weird because no one else in Honduras even knows what a banjo IS! =) He’d sit down with a completely new instrument and start picking out some tune. Played Amazing Grace the first time he picked up a violin…and it actually sounded pretty awesome.

  Our relationship was based a lot on music. From the very start, he’d yell at me from his bedroom and make me sing a song while he picked it out by ear on his tinny little keyboard. He was tone deaf at first. A life-time raised on reggaeton and rap doesn’t make for the best singing voice, but he’d sit at the piano and hit a key, then go, “Aaah” until his voice matched the sound…then nod in satisfaction. He taught himself to sing beautifully…even tenor every once in a while, and he’d compose music on the piano…so amazing.

  Our parents were kinda strict with music (for our own good, of course=), but he disobeyed a lot in this area, and I was his little accomplice. He’d smuggle new music into the house, and then motion me to his bedroom where he’d share it with me. Showing me new songs and the beauty of some of his music. I got a LOT of my taste in music as a result of whatever he liked. I still get this weird impulse to call him or SOMETHING every time I hear a new song that I know he’d absolutely love…I want to share new music with him so badly…then I realize he’s not here to share it with anymore, so I sigh and just enjoy it by myself.

  He was phenomenal at holding grudges. He only got angry with me once. I don’t remember what I did, but I remember him getting in trouble because of me, and he stayed mad at me for two days. Living in the same house with someone and not getting spoken to by that person at ALL…it was nerve-wracking, and pure torture, for peace-loving me=) He ignored me entirely, and punished me by not gracing me with his kindness anymore. He wouldn’t talk to me at all, and was cold and mean. I finally built up the courage to say sorry, and then he only nodded. After that it slowly went back to how it had been before. All was forgiven, and the sun was shining again for me. =) I never made him mad again.

  He was gone a lot. A very popular young man, and there were hundreds of people at his memorial service. He was loved by all, and had touched so many lives, just by being him.

  My best memory of him was the last Sunday he was at the house. I had gone downstairs to iron a shirt or something and he was playing the piano, and randomly asked me to sit down and “play the low part”. So I did. And it just kinda went from there. We played and sang together. “Yo te Busco” was a favorite of his just then, and we sang that over and over, then did all the other songs he knew, and just had a blast together…

  He had a way of belting out songs when he was in the shower. Our showers were cement, and there was a huge crack between where the wall ended and the ceiling (it was actually big enough for me to crawl through), so there was always a kind of rapport going on between the two bathrooms. If the one guy ran out of toilet paper he’d just start yelling for some, and eventually someone would throw him some over. It got kinda hysterical at times. Not much privacy for the poor guys. But anyway, the whole house echoed when someone would sing in those showers, and he’d go on and on. He sang “Love Hurts” (an oldies song…just the title cracks me up) with that cheerful ring in his voice, completely belying the fact that it’s supposed to be a sad song. And any other song that would be on his mind at the time…

  He had this cheeful way of roaring into the kitchen and pausing long enough to say something funny, just to make me laugh. He’d yell, “Flaca! Don’t be sad!! Be HAPPY!!” and I couldn’t help grinning at him…

  He’s the one that started my long list of nicknames. He started with “Spaghetti” for some weird reason. Probably cuz I was pretty skinny growing up. Mostly just bones and energy. =) And Spaghetti is so NOT boney, so I’m still not sure where he got that, but then he switched it to “Flacucha” (“Skinny” in spanish) and all the variations. And it’s kinda stuck ever since.

  I still remember the trauma of his death. I refused to believe it at all for the longest time. I figured it was pointless to cry over someone that was NOT dead. Sure, there was a rip tide and they saw him disappear…but that didn’t mean he couldn’t swim out of the currents and just the fact of him DROWNING. I mean, it wasn’t possible. Not at all. He was the best swimmer ever. He’d not only jump, but DIVE from a 28 ft rock into the water below…over a waterfall, and come out shrieking his victory and exhilaration. He could swim, and dive, and…SWIM like crazy…if I would have imagined a death for him, it would never have been drowning. It seemed almost…insulting. Ludicrous. So I clung to my belief that he was still alive. And then…with the passing of days, and finally weeks, I finally had to admit that it might be a possibility. We walked the beach for days and days…looking for him…and finally, as hope waned, we stopped looking for HIM, and started looking for his body.

  Months later, I would still scan the faces in crowds in the hopes that I’d be able to see him. There were so many what-if scenarios. What if he drifted out to sea and got picked up by a boat, and is sailing around a while, just having fun, until they dock again? What if his head hit a rock, and he’s got amnesia. What if he doesn’t even know who he is, but is looking for links to the past, and all he needs is for someone to recognize him? What if…?

  He was so ALIVE. His death seemed to mock us. There was something so wrong with a 19-year old guy…at the beginning of his life. He’d just gotten a girlfriend too. It hadn’t been really official or anything, but he told me he was gonna talk to her dad…and that was serious enough for me! And she was with them when he drowned. Had to stand there on shore and watch him drift away…talk about trauma.

  And yet, he seemed to somehow know. After coming back from the States. Seeing his mom for the first time in 11 years, he said, “I can die happy now.” And he mentioned little hints to Fanny…as if to prepare her.

  So…why am I posting about him NOW, you might ask.=) Well, I’ve been thinking about him lately, and thought of waiting till February…or even April, for his birthday, but decided I didn’t really NEED a special occasion to post about him. Who cares about dates, anyway? Memories haunt all the time…not just on those dates…but I gotta admit, you get hit extra hard on special occasions…but the memories are all just pretty sweet now. They used to be mainly bitter…weighed down with the fact that he was so irrevocably GONE, then they turned bitter-sweet…good memories, painful feelings…missing him. Now, it’s just sweet, and I look forward to heaven a lot more because I know I’m gonna hug him first thing. And Erik too. It’ll be pretty amazing…beautiful, really…that anticipation. =)

  

  That’s the look he’d get on his face before teasing you mercilessly about something. =)

  

  

  That’s mostly JD, but Ronny’s in the background there somewhere, lol. =)

  

  Milking Mamucha. =)

  

  Bro and sis…=)

  

    

  Love this one of Ronny and Fanny!

  

  His cousins would come out to visit almost for the sole purpose of riding our horses. City boys discovering the joys of animals. =)

  

  At Roatán.

  

  Burying Ryan. =)

   

  Our last family pic with him in it…

  

  earlier…(the entire children’s home)

  

  Same day, but JUST our family…=)

  And in the process of getting those pics, I came across two others that I couldn’t resist putting on. Just cuz of the memories…and how so much can change in so little time…

  

  Sorry bout the bad quality. It was on our fridge for a long time, and seriously got abused. But I love all the happy grins and the pose is just pretty awesome. =) I miss all these guys…cept for Willy. He’s still with me, but haven’t seen the rest of everyone for a long time, and don’t know when I ever will again…*sigh*

  

  Isn’t this just classic? JD and Jose Luis rigged this all by themselves, and trotted down the road with the poor horse getting poked with Jose’s stick every once in a while to hurry him up. =) Love their inventiveness. =)
  

  Ok, everyone. That’s it. =)

  me

  *edit* P.S.  Go hug everyone you love. And tell them, “I love you.” It’s worth it. I promise.

   

  • 4:36 pm
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