This blog is in remembrance of Marcos.
I met Marcos in November at work. I was new and it was apparent he didn't like me. My first impression: good looking kid, kind of cocky. I later discovered he was concerned that I would take his job or be trained first or something equally silly to me but important to him. He was so downright rude that a supervisor actually had to tell him to be nice to me. After working with him a few shifts, I got him to see that I wasn't so bad. We talked about the horrible repetitive music, which he would belt out loud when he was in his up moods. I figured out early on that he had "moods". I chalked it up to just his age. He was around 23. Maybe he was crabby after being out late drinking and not getting enough sleep, I didn't know and I didn't ask. Or if I did it was in the smart ass way he talked to others...what's up your ass?
We has some similar interests. He liked to work out but sporadically. Sometimes smoking got in the way, he said he had some health issues but didn't elaborate a whole lot, asthma type stuff. I would get on him about choosing the healthy way. He knew he had a drinking problem. He at one point gave it up. Keep in my mind I only knew him about 4 months, so he was on/off again in a short time. He was intelligent. He was good looking and he seemed to know how to have a good time. He didn't seem to take life too seriously, laid back. He just seemed like a normal kid with a shitty home life, who in different circumstances could have gone to college or trade school or whatever, but didn't have anyone giving him direction.
He could be in a really upbeat, goofy mood... except on those days when he wasn't. Then he was dark. The fun, lighter side gone, if you didn't know him he would look like someone else. He might come to work late, either by mistake, misreading his schedule, or just making his own hours. He wasn't that reliable. He seemed like he wanted to be a hard worker and thought that he was. He would brag about how competent he was. He really had an air of confidence about him. When he would realize his errors, whether being late or whatever...he would get very frustrated. He was very hard to talk to then. He would bang his hand against his head, even his head against the wall. He would call himself stupid and worry about being fired. He was inconsolable. I would tell him not to get so upset that it would be ok and to try to write his schedule down or to talk to a supervisor and let them know his concerns. But he wasn't really listening, he was caught up with his thoughts. I should have known what those thoughts were, that he was belittling himself, I have been there...making mountains of mole hills, being worried over things no one else could even see. But his confidence threw me.
I have been told that I seem independent and self sufficient and confident. I am not. Not always. I should have guessed he could be like me. I was fooled by his arrogance.
We really started to get along near the end. He could tell I wasn't your typical uptight middle aged broad, I would laugh at his off color jokes, listen to his interpretations of song lyrics, with genuine interest. I really felt we were getting along. I helped him with a project he was given once. To re do the pillow wall....we ended up pillow fighting. He shared with me some personal stuff about his relationship with his girlfriend. Questioning her jealousy. Things he said could have alerted me to the fact that he didn't feel worthy of her but I thought he was trying to get me to compliment him, which I did. I told him when a girl dates a good looking guy she is going to think other women are interested in him. That girls his age are really insecure, that he needed to let her talk and just reassure her that she was who he wanted to be with.
I don't know much more than that about his relationship. There was talk that she had broke up with him that night in late March. His last facebook posts are so haunting. One references that the only thing worse than drinking alone, is doing it in a bar, that you hate, with a crowded pool table, he tagged it with "feeling like the band's good though"...humorous even when down...like so many who cry out. Two friends commented. One knew he really needed help, he tried to get him to message him. His final post was simply "Bye guys"...that same friend still wanting to help.."message me"...sounding urgent in retrospect. He then, apparently, walked out of that bar and in front of a truck. Reports are he didn't die right away. And what I see is that face, late for work, saying "I am so stupid"...realizing the finality of this last impulsive move. He was so young. He had a good heart, he just needed help.
I think of him often. Songs that he sang will come on and I see him there, in the store, singing. with that smile, so full of life. Stocking the pillows I will remember our girlfriend conversation and wonder what went wrong. I see young guys on the street who look like him and boom there he is in my head making me wonder the what if's, the could I have made a difference by sharing my depression.
I still shed tears for him.
He quit a few weeks before his death but he had come into the store after that and I made it a point to tell him that I missed him. He laughed it off. But I persisted, I told him I knew he didn't believe me but that I really liked him and missed his wit. I asked a coworker to back me up, that I was just saying the same thing earlier that week...and she did. But still he doubted. Because he wasn't the confident, cocky kid I thought he was. He was insecure and just wanted to be accepted for who he was. Like all of us.
How many people do you interact with every day that you misread?
Especially in retail...are you irritated when a sales clerk isn't bubbly and friendly, do you ever think maybe there's a reason and not to give them a hard time but maybe shower them with kindness? Even the clerk who IS smiling at you...is it a real smile, what's behind that smile? Can't we all just be kinder to each other?
I take some comfort in knowing my last words to him were kind ones. I am so glad we ended on a high note, not on one of his dark days.
I don't know that I will ever have the answer to why, why this one person's death has touched me so personally. I can speculate. I am in such a good place in my life right now, hormones be damned, stupid trust issue with Dave still a work in progress...but I am happy. And I know how happy I am because I want to live as long as I possibly can, and it wasn't always that way. Perhaps I see in him what could have been...had I ever been at the wrong place, at the wrong time when my suicidal thoughts peaked. It only takes one incident that is irreversible to take the chance of being finally happy away forever. In an instant, it can all be gone. I feel bad for people who don't want to live to be 100...can they say they are truly happy? It isn't a fear of death. Because I know there are unhappy people who want to live forever, too. But that's different. There are those who think "Whatever, I have seen enough, done enough...whenever I go is fine"...not me! I love life now. And I want every single second that I can take. And his death reminds me of what I would have lost have I ever followed through.
My sister is a different place ...she states, with complete believability, that if she were to die today it would be a relief. Of course, this is how she felt over a year ago, since I no longer talk about these things with her I don't know what she feels today. It would frustrate me to no end to have these conversations with her. There was no convincing her that this isn't a normal way of thinking. She seemed to think as long as SHE wasn't killing herself, it was perfectly ok to just want to die. What kind of life is that? To live believing that you would be better off dead? And not want to get treatment to stop thinking that way?
I learned from my therapist that I could not get "enmeshed" with others lives. It is hard when you witness stuff like that. And think you can make a difference. I never was able to get through to her...my sister....separated by only 14 months, so why do I think I could have gotten through to Marcos? An almost stranger. I suppose I couldn't have. But, oh how I hate to feel helpless. Parts of me feel drawn to help people like him, like my sister. That is a big undertaking at my age. A whole lot of schooling. And, selfishly, I fear it could ruin this happiness that I have found, because I really think getting away from the drama in my sister's life has lightened my life.
I wish Marcos knew that people cared...really cared...his life mattered. I can't imagine how his girlfriend feels or that friend that reached out to him that last night...
For those of you that have considered it...consider this...you matter to people that you could never imagine that you matter to...you really do. If we aren't offering help...ask...please ask...we want to help. We will help or we will help you find someone that can.
Rest in Peace Marcos.
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