As a 41 year-old woman, I am remembering myself as the 24 year-old who moved to San Diego seventeen years ago today. It feels oddly like remembering someone who is deceased. I feel only vaguely like the passionate and hopeful girl that I once was, venturing out into the city, trying new things, and meeting new people.
I was hungry for life and eager for its lessons.
Having been back in New Mexico for four months now, I often remember people who've passed through my life and events that made me feel alive, whether good or bad. I do this as though I'm investigating, looking for the key to my passion for life.
One person I'm remembering today is Martin Juarez. I inadvertently met him through JT (from a previous post). JT and I were tapering off our interests in one another and he'd been drinking every night with his Navy buddies. Martin was JT's new and temporary roommate in the barracks, just before he got out of the Navy. I would call JT's room (using his calling card) and Martin answered the phone most of the time while JT was drinking away. He was from the city close to my hometown. Well, since we had geography in common, we easily found many things to talk about.
We talked several times a week for hours at a time, and it wasn't very long before we started finishing each other's sentences. He would also ask me what I was thinking, and could tell me what random thoughts were going through my mind. We talked about our childhoods, and I was very aware of painful parts of his past that bothered him still. I told him how I was feeling "trapped" in this town and always wanted to live in California. I really wanted to go to San Francisco, but Martin had told me so much about San Diego, that I decided that was the place for me. He was the only person to encourage me, while others told me I would fail and end up coming home with my tail between my legs. I remember him telling me, "You can do it, Buttercup". We had a bond and intimacy that was not sexually based, and I anxiously awaited our next phone call.
When Martin finally got out of the Navy and moved back to his hometown, I met him a few times there, but only for brief moments. One, I was engaged and two, the friend I went clubbing with got a little jealous of the attention I was getting, and wasn't very nice to Martin.
We continued to speak on the phone, our feelings for each other getting stronger, and Martin asked me to break up with my fiancee to be with him. I didn't and couldn't for various reasons. It wasn't long before Martin met someone and our calls tapered off, too.
One person I'm remembering today is Martin Juarez. I inadvertently met him through JT (from a previous post). JT and I were tapering off our interests in one another and he'd been drinking every night with his Navy buddies. Martin was JT's new and temporary roommate in the barracks, just before he got out of the Navy. I would call JT's room (using his calling card) and Martin answered the phone most of the time while JT was drinking away. He was from the city close to my hometown. Well, since we had geography in common, we easily found many things to talk about.
We talked several times a week for hours at a time, and it wasn't very long before we started finishing each other's sentences. He would also ask me what I was thinking, and could tell me what random thoughts were going through my mind. We talked about our childhoods, and I was very aware of painful parts of his past that bothered him still. I told him how I was feeling "trapped" in this town and always wanted to live in California. I really wanted to go to San Francisco, but Martin had told me so much about San Diego, that I decided that was the place for me. He was the only person to encourage me, while others told me I would fail and end up coming home with my tail between my legs. I remember him telling me, "You can do it, Buttercup". We had a bond and intimacy that was not sexually based, and I anxiously awaited our next phone call.
When Martin finally got out of the Navy and moved back to his hometown, I met him a few times there, but only for brief moments. One, I was engaged and two, the friend I went clubbing with got a little jealous of the attention I was getting, and wasn't very nice to Martin.
We continued to speak on the phone, our feelings for each other getting stronger, and Martin asked me to break up with my fiancee to be with him. I didn't and couldn't for various reasons. It wasn't long before Martin met someone and our calls tapered off, too.
I don't think it had been quite a year that I'd not spoken to Martin, but he frequently came to my mind. I did not realize then that my "gift" of having premonitions about death was manifesting itself.
Since my parents were from the same city Martin lived in, we got the city's paper every Sunday. One Sunday in late September, 1993, I was going through the obituaries and was horrified to see the name "Martin J., 26". I called the funeral home listed in the paper and gave a description of Martin to her. She sadly confirmed that it was my friend.
I sent his mother, Ana, a letter of condolence, telling her how I knew Martin and how very sorry I was for his death. I will only say that the circumstances were horrible, and Martin had committed suicide. At her invitation, my Mother and I went to visit Ana, a very kind woman in her early sixties. As my Mom and Ana were speaking, my Mom told her that Martin looked familiar. We then found a strange coincidence: Martin's uncle, Leo worked with my Mom at the same hospital long ago, where she was a nurse and he was an oxygen therapist. Mom said he was very good looking, and had asked her out a few times, but she refused to get involved with someone she worked with. Well, it turned out that Martin's Uncle Leo had gotten into his own trouble that got him put away for a very long time.
Meeting Ana was very therapeutic for Ana and I, but I was anguished. I could not attend his funeral, nor could I show my sadness in front of my ex-fiancee. I cried everyday for months. I don't remember going through a more difficult time in my life. Finally, in May of 1994, I placed a calendar on the kitchen table, closed my eyes, and put the tip of my pen down, It landed on September 24, the day after Martin's first year anniversary - the day I would leave for San Diego. For me, it was a sign that Martin was by my side.
I've never forgotten Martin, but I anguished over him for a very long time, I had to put the memories aside, except for occasionally, when I allow myself to remember his voice and words. I continue to pray for him, but his suicide remains with me.
It's grotesque how one commits suicide to leave their misery, yet the people they abandon so abruptly, are left with miserable regrets the rest of our lives.
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