Tuesday, August 10, 2010

11 Years Later: Still Grieving, But Feeling Hopeful.

It has now been 11 years that my brother Andy, father Oscar, uncles Jaime and Victor were brutally murdered at my family's home in Rosemead, CA. Last year, I wrote a note discussing what happened in much greater detail than I have ever given in most conversations about what happened to my family on Monday, August 9, 1999.

At the time I was 11 going on 12, my sister was 5, my cousin Natalie was 9 and my cousin Angel was 2. All of us were present and most of them witnessed significantly more gruesomeness than I did because I ran away to call 9-1-1.

The grieving process for me has been very long and arduous. In fact, most of these 11 years I’ve spent in denial, and suppressing my fear, anger, and love for my deceased family members.

Soon after August 9, I remember thinking I had this progressive view on what constitutes a family, saying to myself and to others that in general one doesn’t need a fathers or older brother to thrive and to have a real family, and so for this reason, I thought I was fine. But I wasn’t. And even though I still think that the concept of the “traditional family” as the only real family is bullshit, losing a father and brother when you had them – especially in the traumatic manner in which I did lose them—made it a very different case.

As part of California’s Victims of Crime program, all of the survivors—including my mother and cousin Wilbert who had been shot and critically injured, and my tía who had been kidnapped and raped—were placed in therapy. Admittedly, most of the three years I spent in therapy was a waste of time. But it wasn’t my therapist’s fault, it just wasn’t my time to talk because I was incapable of sharing my feelings with her or anyone else, including my family.

Over the years in middle school and high school, I used my joking and jovial nature as a coping mechanism. Granted it’s in my nature to be a jokester, but in my situation, it actually became my opiate and my way to feel accepted amongst the many and diverse groups in school. My friendships and many, many acquaintances were for the most part superficial; but I must emphasize that they were not fake, because I do cherish those memories and I loved them as people, I was simply incapable of sustaining something more deep and meaningful.

I realized while I was in Berkeley that my primary motivating reason to attend that school was to run away. Although I told everyone and myself that I chose Berkeley because I wanted to experience living in a different metro area (which is true and I’m glad I did) so I could , in actuality what really drove me was my desire to become a different person and leave my pain behind in L.A.

The plan didn’t work. My pain, anger, bitterness and frustration followed me wherever I went, whether it was at Harvard, France, Argentina, El Salvador, Miami…and then, of course, at Berkeley. And it was at Berkeley, only a few weeks into my first year, where I started to cry again. I hadn’t shared tears over my father and brother’s deaths since their funeral 6 years earlier.

I ended my denial stage about two years ago during my senior year at Berkeley, when I decided to see a therapist my final semester and to move back home to Los Angeles with my family after graduation. I spent the following months going through the motions, in an emotional rollercoaster of highs and lows more volatile than ever. But I made it through. I’ve met great people back in L.A., I’ve gotten a fellowship at an organization where I love the work that I do, and I’ve learned to appreciate my time at Berkeley and the people I met there.

I recently attended Comfort Zone Camp, a camp for kids and teens (7-17) and young adults (18-23) who’ve lost a parent, sibling, or primary caregiver, and it was an experience that I definitely needed. My fellow campers and our mentors made me feel normal, and those who shared their stories validated my experiences as normal. After camp, I felt ready to take on life, to take on the highs and lows, and to ready to honor my deceased loved ones by carrying their spirit and memories with me.

In conclusion, it has been emotionally draining finally having to deal with what I spent almost 10 YEARS denying and suppressing. I spent those years living in sadness without realizing it. But I am now beginning to learn how to enjoy life and to learn to love my family and friends in the city where I grew up. Grievin' ain't easy :)

Feel free to ask me any questions about anything, and let me know if you'd like the newspaper articles that covered my family's journey to justice.

1 comment:

Unknown said...

Brian, my name is Melody. I was good friends with Andy. I actually used to talk to him on the phone everyday all day the whole summer before he passed. I'm glad to hear that you're doing better. I've wondered about you, your mom, & Wilbert numerous times. I even attempted looking for you guys with help from Jesse Torres. I would reall like a copy of the newspaper articles if you have them. I would greatly appreciate it. Also if you could please tell Wilbert that I said Hi that would be great. If you'd like to contact me my number is (213) 249-6364.