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8.15.24. My birthday. 

I am. 48.

On the night we met, after asking me for Spanish lessons, Aaron asked my age.  I told him and he said, “You don’t look a day past 30.”  I responded, “OK. I don’t know what I’m supposed to look like, but I don’t wish I was younger. If I was, I wouldn’t have known my great-grandparents, grandparents, college friends. I was born when I was supposed to. Also. Sunblock. Highly recommend it.” 

I am. “Muñeca” to my family, the nickname my grandmother gave me on the day I was born. “Vero” to my friends. “Verónica” with an accent to everyone else, thanks to Karina P. Lago (RIP our sweet guide) who asked me, a brand new student at Brown, if “Veronica” without the accent, was how my granparents said my name. I said, “No. I’m Muñeca to them, but I get your point.” And. “Hermosa”, “Hermosura”, “Pretty Lady”, “Babe”, “#1 Forever,” and “Vero for El Paso” to Aaron. 

I am. So loved. This was a bittersweet birthday, which has been the tenor of all my days since June 18th. But my goodness. The sweetness. The messages. The gifts. The time. The timing.

I was opening a package from Christina and another from Federico and this thought came from Aaron, “You are so loved, babe.” 

I am. Learning to trust (slowly) the Universe still has my back. The morning of my birthday, I asked Aaron for flowers. I looked at the hibiscus on my porch. No blooms. After work, I went to our amazing Nancy Green’s celebration of life and smiled, cried, and remembered Aaron’s joy over Nancy’s music on the day he met her. No doubt they are still beaming brightly. Joy, Paul, Carlos and I met for dinner. Joy - whose ginormous heart somehow fits in her tiny frame - brought sunflowers - the last ones at Sprouts. On Sunday, Joanne brought a fancy arrangement, Candie a single rose and Amy. sunflowers she planted from seeds. Collectively, they covered all of Aaron’s intentions (yes, he called himself a ranchero). 

I am grateful. For my family. For my friends & new co-workers. For Aaron (forever) and the gifts he keeps giving, including his Mom, Jamie Walton, @joey_tee Susan Connell, Russell Booth, Laura O'Dell & those who remind me that love never dies.
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During Aaron’s Full Moon Ceremony, Ceiba (Jena Camp, Lorenzo Guel-Camp, Diego and Holaya) sang these lyrics, “Florecita de Aleli que bonitos colores tienes. Colores de mis ilusiones. Colores de mis esperanzas. Que parecida nuestra suerte que para ti llega el invierno y para mi llega la muerte. De que nos vale la hermosura si se han de marchitar manana tus flores en mi sepultura.” / “Little Aleli flower, your colors are so pretty, the colors of my illusions, the colors of my hope. Our luck is so similar. Winter has arrived for you and death for me.  What is the beauty for, if tomorrow your flowers will wither at my burial?”

It is about the rotten unfairness of losing someone who is just blooming.

Aaron loved flowers. He brought them on our first date and so many times after. He did the same for his Mom. Some were fancy.  Some were from the gas station.  But every single one made me bloom inside.  

Yes. Flowers die. But their seeds remain willing and able to keep multiplying and giving life IF we provide them space and love. The roots that produced them remain connected to Mother Earth and will birth a new generation. The pollen they fed the bees, the nectar they fed the hummingbirds, continue to nourish those most precious messengers who in turn nourish our souls and our crops.  

On 6/26/11, my cousin James Causey’s flower withered prematurely. Loving him, accepting him, fighting alongside him, learning from him, prepared me for Aaron. James’ flowers gave me love long after they withered.   

When you see me, it's not strength. It is the result of me asking Aaron (and God again) for help and you allowing them to work through you to keep harvesting Aaron’s flowers.  

People have asked if Aaron chose to leave us. The answer is NO! Aaron wanted to live. His valor, his joy, his Army paratrooper warrior spirit, his willingness to give and accept love, his unmatched intellect, were overtaken by the wounds of the Afghanistan war - a war that continues to steal our flowers.
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I woke up today, for the first time since Aaron left his human form, with a smile.  And some side-effects from the Taco Bell he led us to. After the full moon ceremony, Bernie Segura suggested we eat at a restaurant on McRae.  By the time Paul and I arrived, the kitchen was closed.  She said Whataburger and Taco Bell are across the street.  Aaron!  TB was his favorite ever since he worked there as a teenager in CA.  He and I never went there together (until last night) because one of us has nutritional standards and meat “products” don’t make the cut. 

Ruby Montana offered her and Aaron’s Spotify playlist. I haven’t added it yet so Aaron controlled the Coffee House station instead to and from Hueco Tanks. He played this sweet song firsts. Then, he played the song that caused our first and only fight .Glass Animals - Heat Wave and that dumb line "You look so broken when you cry."). I went, “Oh no. That stupid song. Aaron. Seriously! No te aguantas.”  Paul then mentioned a Florence & the Machine song without knowing that Aaron HATED them. They were a part of that fight too.

BUT. On the way BACK, my precioso played Florence’s Shake it Off. I think he’s finally admitting I won that fight.. I mean, the lyrics!  “It’s always darkest before the dawn… it's hard to dance with the devil on your back (shake him off).”  I would’ve added, “You know our dogs shake off what overwhelms them. I bet Florence is a dog person.”  Thank you Alicia De Jong-Davis for reminding me that people who leave before us like to hide in music. 

No doubt Aaron helped organize the event in less than 24 hrs.. I didn’t even know it was a full moon until Thursday when I scrolled on IG for 2 seconds.  Candie Printz and Diana Vera found an easy location.  Then my loving and generous neighbors Lorenzo Guel-Camp and Jena Camp suggested this magical alternative.  At about 5p, the gracious owner Holaya who was in Juarez, got the message, gave us permission, and made it back in time to join Ceiba (Jena, Lorenzo, Diego) despite the long lines and drive. Gracias! No estamos solxs.
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6.18.24 My phone keeps ringing and every time I think it’s going to be you.  If you were here, you’d say, “You miss me, huh?”  And I would say, “Of course I do Aaron! I wish you were here.”  Every one of our goodbyes ended with, “I wish I/you didn’t have to go.” 

I so wish, with every cell in my body, with every neuron in my brain, with every morsel of hope in my heart, that you were here.

I make no apology for missed meetings, events, texts, calls, & minimal social media presence during the last 4 months. I was focused on my new job, (re)connecting with Aaron and being fully present for a love that was both extremely easy, and extremely hard. 

On the last day I saw Aaron in human form, I hugged him and placed my head on his chest.  I saw a silhouette of a man and a woman sitting in meditation.  They were so close I couldn’t tell where one ended & the other began. I knew it was us. I said, “Oh Aaron. We’ve done this before.”  He smiled big and said, “Can I go to the bathroom now?”  I laughed & let him go. Whether by divine design or human stupidity, I allowed panic about non-Aaron related life responsibilities to take me away from him for a few days. The night before he left his human form, we showered each other with the most loving conversations. 

The night before, we thought we still had time.  

Aaron is in every sunrise he ran to while I slept; every sunset I shared; his “Estrellita” on the mountain; every full moon we bathed & laughed under; every pigeon pooping on my porch.  Aaron loved life, even when life didn’t love him back.

Thank you Mom, Ruby Montana, Josie Martinez, Paul Enriquez, Melissa Barba, Briana Stone, Julie Balovich, Carmen Rodriguez, Jordyn Rozensky, Carlos Menchaca, Monica Garcia, Andrea Tirres, Star Lengas, Aaron’s brother, Nick Arcaina, their Mom, Aaron’s soul brother, Victor Herrera, Valerie Rivas, my Brown Comadres, Indira Goris, Kristalee Guerra and Alegre Sol, Aaron’s Freemason brothers, my pups. I miss you Corporal Clegg. I will write more as I am able to.
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