Often death comes suddenly and interrupts your plans according to how close you are to the deceased. Cecilia, fifty years old, died yesterday. Hortensia called me early and said that Oskar, Cecillia's youngest son, hadn't been told and ... would I talk to him? Oskar, a thin, very quiet, ten year old is the black sheep of the family and was neglected in all of this. Cecilia, had been bedfast at her sister's house, laying in bed, depressed to the point she wouldn't talk or look at anyone including Oskar. He loved her and occasionally brought her food by working little jobs ... now she's gone.
Oskar doesn't know who his father was. His relatives aren't on speaking terms with him, they give him food and a bed (in silence.) We help him with food and school.
I met Oskar when he was five. Since then he would come in to take a shower when we were in his area. I noticed him because he always looked stoic; quiet and never smiled. Some years later I was working the showers and shampooing a couple of boys when I felt a hug around my legs from the back. I turned around and here was little Oskar hugging me and looking up at me; still without a smile. Later he learned to smile a little and interact with kids his age. Oskar has lots of scars inside. A hurting boy.
Would I talk with him? I had a lot of other things planned, but when Hortensia called I felt Oskar and his situation were worth rearranging my day. I'm sure you would agree.
So I left for Tijuana.
When I walked into the dirt yard of his Aunt's house Oskar was standing near the clothesline gazing toward the dump and large cemetery for the poor. I called him and he walked over. I noticed his T-shirt; it read in English, "I'm a dirty boy!" Only knowing Spanish, he wasn't aware of the message.
I had him sit in my car and we talked about his mother's death for about a half hour. He said nothing. He just looked at me listening to every word. His eyes started tearing up as he took it all in. I asked; he had never seen a dead person, or a casket, or been to a mortuary so I talked about what it was going to be like seeing his mother's body ... I talked about God and about death and eternity. He just listened occasionally brushing back tears. His eyes never left my face.
Then it was time for a hamburger and some French fries. I took him down to get a bite to eat. The mood was, well, "stoic." We let him off back at his uncle's house.
Oskar's at the mortuary in Tijuana tonight, seeing his mother for the last time ... and Hortensia, she will be there to hug him. (Spectrum bought a large funeral flower wreath; he asked for this message to be placed on the wreath. "To my mother with love, Oskar."
Just one little twisted life in thousands. Tonight he's hurting bad. Indeed, "Life ain't fair."
That was several years ago, Oskar's a good looking teen now. Thanks to Spectrum, he's going to school, and involved in Church and has a nice looking girlfriend.
Scars? He carries many.
