I guess this was something I wanted to talk about for awhile. My grandad died. During all this madness I lost someone I loved. I don’t have many people in my family and most likely in my defense only my mom and sister will be there.
A couple of months ago my mom called and she was ready to bury my grandad and asked for me to do a eulogy. I didn’t know what to say or think, I descended somewhere deep. I lost track of what I was doing or where I was, often finding solace in the wind through the city in the cold.
I would go out into the harsh cold just to feel something. The ice would slice my cheeks, I would slip on the rain and hit the concrete face first. Put myself through pain because that’s the only way I can get in touch with my own emotions. Feel something.
Where I come from you have to be tough. I can take a punch, and I take a beat down. I will also fight back. You can’t make me cry. But I cried now. I didn’t understand why.
I hate looking at my past, it’s what I try to forget. My grandad one day asked me what I wanted to do. I was a young teenager around 19–20 wanting to be a drug corporate lawyer of some sorts and earn money. He took me seriously, and told me his story.
He was a corporate lawyer, he made money, he raised the status of the family but he broke his morals. He questioned himself and realized he had done wrong. He want to reconcile with himself and find peace so he quit and moved to music. He told me if you want to pursue this path I need to fix my ethics. Find beauty in something and don’t give up my passion. Find love in others, because without others I will be lonely.
I remember this memory as I battle with my own ethics now. I go to church. I sit there, I don’t believe in god but I listen to the music. My heart feels the sounds, I can hear the piano, the drums, the voices, and I just keep going. I keep working. I will keep spreading the love in the only ways I know how and I won’t look back.
