Today, I remember the life of my eldest and firstborn son of my family, Jose David Manzanares aka 'Create', who was born on this day, February 18, 1980. He would have been 30 years old, today, but tragically died from a gunshot wound five years ago, Sept. 25. In many ways, I feel that I knew my brother very little. We'd grown up, together, but there was always a distance and misunderstanding between us that never fostered the closeness that sibling have, even in their rivalry.
It was only in the year before his death that I believe he was trying to reach out to me, as if there was a certain premonition that we should reconnect before it was too late. It was around may of that year when he began coming over to my apartment so that I could show him how to use Adobe Photoshop to come up with a design for a flyer. The flyer would announce some grand Halloween party that he was planning, which never came to fruition. It was strange for me to give the key to my home to my older brother, under suspicion that he might bring people over, or do something illegal on my premises. But I felt that it would be better to extend my hand rather than draw it away, and I opened myself to the possibility that he and I might finally have something that will allow us to bond.
I remember him inviting me a few times to go out to some activity or another. One particular time it was when we were all gathered at my grandfather Anselmo's house, and he invited us to go bowling. I think that I had plans with my girlfriend, Miranda, at the time. I'll never remember what happened the rest of the night, but I do remember looking at him when he invited me, and then watching him leave the house to go bowling. That was the last time that he had invited me to do anything, and I wish that I had gone. Miranda and I aren't together, anymore, and I missed the opportunity to create a better memory of that night. If you ever get the chance to spend time with your family, it will always be more important than anything else, that's what I've learned.
I did get on more opportunity to do something with my brother, though, and it's a day that I'll never forget. My mom's family was all gathered in the backyard of my grandfather Joe's house and we had set up a game of Croquet. The yard is exceptionally large and includes a small brickwall that separates two different levels of the yard on one side. We played all around the yard, and had wickets set up on both levels, this made out to be the longest and most challenging game of Croquet that I'd ever played before. I had the black ball and mallet, of course. The big yard made it possible to send someone else's ball flying to the other side of the course, if you so pleased. This was the last great memory that I had of my big brother.
In closing I'd like to offer this poem by William Wordsworth. The poem was written for William Wordsworth's brother, John Wordsworth, "COMMANDER OF THE E. I. COMPANY'S SHIP THE EARL OF ABERGAVENNY IN WHICH HE PERISHED BY CALAMITOUS SHIPWRECK, FEB. 6, 1805." That's 205 years ago, this month, and the feelings and the feelings are still the same.
Composed near the Mountain track that leads from Grasmere through Grisdale Hawes, where it descends towards Paterdale.
"Here did we stop; and here looked round,
While each into himself descends."
The point is two or three yards below the outlet of Grisdale tarn, on a foot-road by which a horse may pass to Paterdale--a ridge of Helvellyn on the left, and the summit of Fairfield on the right.
I
THE Sheep-boy whistled loud, and lo!
That instant, startled by the shock,
The Buzzard mounted from the rock
Deliberate and slow:
Lord of the air, he took his flight;
Oh! could he on that woeful night
Have lent his wing, my Brother dear,
For one poor moment's space to Thee,
And all who struggled with the Sea,
When safety was so near.
II
Thus in the weakness of my heart
I spoke (but let that pang be still)
When rising from the rock at will,
I saw the Bird depart.
And let me calmly bless the Power
That meets me in this unknown Flower.
Affecting type of him I mourn!
With calmness suffer and believe,
And grieve, and know that I must grieve,
Not cheerless, though forlorn.
III
Here did we stop; and here looked round
While each into himself descends,
For that last thought of parting Friends
That is not to be found.
Hidden was Grasmere Vale from sight,
Our home and his, his heart's delight,
His quiet heart's selected home.
But time before him melts away,
And he hath feeling of a day
Of blessedness to come.
IV
Full soon in sorrow did I weep,
Taught that the mutual hope was dust,
In sorrow, but for higher trust,
How miserably deep!
All vanished in a single word,
A breath, a sound, and scarcely heard:
Sea--Ship--drowned--Shipwreck--so it came,
The meek, the brave, the good, was gone;
He who had been our living John
Was nothing but a name.
V
That was indeed a parting! oh,
Glad am I, glad that it is past;
For there were some on whom it cast
Unutterable woe.
But they as well as I have gains;--
From many a humble source, to pains
Like these, there comes a mild release;
Even here I feel it, even this Plant
Is in its beauty ministrant
To comfort and to peace.
VI
He would have loved thy modest grace,
Meek Flower! To Him I would have said,
"It grows upon its native bed
Beside our Parting-place;
There, cleaving to the ground, it lies
With multitude of purple eyes,
Spangling a cushion green like moss;
But we will see it, joyful tide!
Some day, to see it in its pride,
The mountain will we cross."
VII
--Brother and Friend, if verse of mine
Have power to make thy virtues known,
Here let a monumental Stone
Stand--sacred as a Shrine;
And to the few who pass this way,
Traveller or Shepherd, let it say,
Long as these mighty rocks endure,--
Oh do not Thou too fondly brood,
Although deserving of all good,
On any earthly hope, however pure!
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Brother and Friend, Happy 30th Birthday!
Love,
Chris
