In Memory of Alex

Yesterday, I lost a friend.

"An old friend from New York? A classmate at the University in Costa Rica?"

My friends and family hear my pain and they ask me these questions.

"No." I respond. "He was a taxi driver."

There is a silence at the other end.
I don't know what it means.

I want to express all that he meant to me. I want to explain how when I got into his car it was impossible to leave without a smile on my face. I want to convey the feeling of "i don't give a f*ck" that one felt when you sat beside him. Not in the way that you are careless and ignorant. Not that kind of not giving a f*ck. The kind that you just fully accept who you are and are not afraid to be it.

I want to tell all of the stories and memories I have with him.

I want to say that he reminded me of Grandma. I kinda want to say that sometimes, I could feel her in him.

And then I think that my friends and family would think I am crazy if I said this stuff.
"You just knew him for 1.5 years. He was a taxi driver." That's the voice in my head talking. Those are old stories and its an old voice. And then it starts to tell me to justify. It starts telling me I need to justify why I am so sad after losing a taxi driver that I just knew for 1.5 years. And I almost listen to it.

But I stay quiet, instead. Because I have become familiar with that voice. The voice that talks in my head that is not my truth.

It's not the little voice who speaks to me softly. And knowingly. The little soft voice that speaks to me in vibrating blood cells beneath my skin or goosebumps on my arms or a fluttering in my heart.
I know this little voice better now, too.

The little voice is just humming along. I trust her.
I am learning to become quieter so that I can heart her.

I can hear her now and she is just humming along.

Probably to the sound of Alex's music blasting from his car as he honks his horn incessantly driving up towards my house.

The little voice tells me that it is okay to love. Anyone and anything.
The little voice tells me not to be afraid.

The thing is, I don't express much of it to anyone. Because it cannot be expressed.
It can only be felt.

To Alex. <3 2014="" 30="" nov="" td="">

And I could feel it with Alex. Something connected me with him on a deep level. Something liberated me when I was with him. I would get this feeling every time I sat in the front seat of his car and he would pick on me.

He told me I was in the book he was writing about the UPEACE students. You know, what happens when they are not on campus.

He told me that I was "brava". Because I told him what I thought, right back at him. 

...And maybe because 1 time I had a few too many cervezas and he gave me a ride home...

His voice was raspy and he talked so fast that I could only catch bits and pieces of what he was telling me and I would say, "Como como como?" "Como Alex??" Smiling. 

On Sunday, he said to me, "Heyyy. Where do you think you're going so pretty?"

He asked to take a photo of me.

I refused. I told him I know that he would put it on Facebook. Vacilando. 

I learned a lot from you, Alex. You don't even know.

And I wanted to tell you. 

You told me to "take care" last time I got out of your car. It always ended this way. We would joke around the whole car ride. Pick on each other. I'd tell you that you charge too much. You'd try to convince me to let you drive me all the way to San Jose. I always got out at the bus stop. And you'd say "ok take care now." 

That was the last time you spoke to me on Sunday. I saw you though, almost everyday this week. One time, I was in the car with another guy and you peered into the window checking on me to see who it was. The next day, you were on your corner and I was out running and you yelled something at me as you always did. I looked at you and smiled. My headphones were in and I kept running. 

I liked your energy, Alex. 

When people ask who it was, that passed away in the accident, they say it was you. We explain who you were by saying that you were the taxi driver in the black car.

You were so much more, though, Alex. Thank you for sharing all that you were with me. Thank you for not being afraid. Thank you for being you. Honest and ruthless with your love. 

Thank you for being You.

I know that you came into my life for a reason. 

It still does not all make sense yet.

I have faith, though, that it will. 

And I promise you that I will take with me all that I learned from being in your presence.

And if you're up there with Grams, give her a dance.

And laugh with her.

She'd like that. 

We all would. 

------

Dare to be vulnerable.
Dare to trust.
Dare to feel free.

In memory of Alex.

And in honour of all the people I forget to express my love to, because I am still learning to quiet the voices in my head. 

Feeling grateful for all the people coming together during this time.
Offering love and support in so many ways.
Being there for one another.
Being present.