The Struggle Against Restrictions

Fight it all you want; deny it and suppress it with every ounce of your being…the sad fact is…there are restrictions working against you.  Time, space, and money are probably the most prevalent restrictions that directly influence my day to day interactions and of course my future plans.  Example…I'm a comic fan (I'm sure that comes as no surprise).  I used to read them a lot as a kid and even as an adult I have continued to pick up certain select titles here and there.  Mostly Batman titles.  I have two boxes full.  Anyhow, in a much belated attempt to reach out to a cousin who lives near Austin…I went and visited him and his wife and his baby son.  We had a great time, a great conversation and plenty of laughs.  During the day, we had discussed the Comic Con that was coming to Ausitn in November.  We got excited about the possibility of going and getting to be amongst weirdos and feeling free to be the biggest nerds on the planet as we indulged in some of our fondest childhood memories by surrounding ourselves in a world of superheroes, galactic fantasy, monsters, goblins, etc.  Well a month ago, my car needed new tires.  $450.  Three weeks after, my car starts wigging out…I take it to the dealership…it needs a new clutch master cylinder…that's going to cost $800 for parts and labor.  So I parked it.  I started cruising the little work truck I bought earlier this year…I noticed I had a small leak in one of the front tires…took it to the tire shop…they won't fix the flat because it's "legally bald"…that tire alone…is $150.  That's $1,400 in just a few weeks...and I find myself broke...Again.  I can't make the silly trip to Austin that I was looking forward to and it suddenly struck me the other night that my life…although seemingly bound by nothing…is still framed by restrictions.  Money…or the lack of…time, space…these things matter…and as much as we may not like to admit it…they can determine our choices, our paths, and inherently the direction and outcome to our life story.  Do we have control of some of that?  Sure.  Choices can be made.  Obstacles can be overcome.  But never discount dumb luck and other people's decisions  and how those things can directly or indirectly impact your life.  To quote a worn out adage regarding luck, you have to be at the right place at the right time.  I might add another element to that though…making the right decision during that time can alter the direction and inevitable outcome of said situation.  But that's a long conversation for another time.  The struggle...no matter what stage you currently find yourself in this game of life…the struggle against restrictions is real.

Plans are plans.  My plans?  Well…they'll remain plans unless action and / or an unforeseen catalyst propels a new (hopefully fortuitous) direction.  The ultimate reality of of my struggle, though, is something has to change.

In the meantime I have been keeping up with my craft.  Trying to hone your particular skill must remain a constant focus to keep some kind of passion in your life as you make the appropriate changes to allow your real life to begin.

These are a couple of portraits I did for my cousin.  His beautiful girl and her boxer…and him and his classic 72 Bronco and his boxers…these are unfinished versions but you get the idea.

Potential & Adventure

There are thoughts that are inescapable.  Things that tend to find their way into my head in late hours like these.  I often wonder what it must have been like...laying there...never knowing for certain when the time would come but having the strongest realization that the time was near.  And I wondered what it was like for him before.  In 2008.  Last year.  The times when I'm sure he was thinking to himself that he only needed a few more years...and prayed for them.  And then I start to think about other times.  What were the things he thought of...as he walked down the long and lonely corridors of the hospital as he went from one treatment to another.  (Bless my mother for being there with him for most of those steps.)  Where did he find the strength to continue...and why.

I know the last few days...last few months really...of his life must have been extraordinarily miserable.  Watching him wince in pain...day in...day out.  Going to sleep and praying for rest...waking with more pain.  My dad was incredibly strong and I know he had a high pain tolerance so for those tumors to cause that kind of excruciating strain on his body...I can't imagine what it must have been like.  Or maybe I just don't want to.

All these days since...I can't let go of all of that.  But I try to.  I try real hard...and this outlet helps.  I try to put myself in his position and compare benchmarks about what exactly might be my regrets if I'd been the one who'd been terminally ill.  The list that I come up with off the top of my head is staggering.  It's borderline disturbing.  Wasted potential, missed opportunities, unrealized ambitions...they're enough to make you question your entire being.  From beginning to now...I've lost time...intentionally wasted, casually ignored, and the rest of the time shamelessly pursuing the primary driving force behind our capitalist economy...the ever-changing, thus unattainable, ideal of a better life through the hollow pursuit of money.  But it's pointless to ruminate on time lost.  So the question is...how to recognize my true potential and how to adjust my focus on fulfilling that...and how to have some adventures along the way...

A Day Like Any Other

I really thought he'd be here for this day...at least one more time.  He missed it by 13 days.  He was always quick to remind us, though, that he didn't need a day for recognition.  He was our father every day...and this day was in no way any more or less special than any other day.  I think he always appreciated the little things we were able to do for him and in his way he showed his gratitude...but he always enveloped his thanks to us in humble humility by reminding us of this fact.  It was as if to tell us...or remind us...that we didn't ever have to thank him for being our dad.  I think he tried to tell us that there was no thanks necessary.  I'm sure he wanted to tell us more...but as I mentioned before, my dad was a man of few words...and maybe he just didn't know how to articulate what he wanted to express.

The past two weeks have been a roller coaster of emotions.  I honestly didn't know how to spend this day.  I hadn't even allowed myself to think that we wouldn't spend this day with him.  But here this day has come and already gone and all I can think of is a promise I made to him in his last days.  He wasn't fully aware...but I'm sure...I'm positive he could hear me.  I am going to try to keep that promise, Dad.

My Teacher...My Friend...My Father

On the 3rd...My hero finally fell after fighting the good fight.  My heart was and still is broken and my soul continues to weep...but I try to take solace in knowing he is no longer living in daily pain.  Deciding to give a speech at his wake was without a doubt the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life.  There is so much more that I could have said and so much more I wished I'd included but I know this speech would have made my father proud.  Unfortunately...a few months ago there was another death in my family...and as such...there were a great many relatives who live far away that were not able to make the long journey back to my hometown again for yet another funeral for the cost was too great so soon after such a major trip.  I begrudge them nothing and hold no ill will toward them.  I know they were all with us in spirit.  It is in that spirit that I write my speech here verbatim...in the hopes that they have an opportunity to read it and I will be able to share the message my father would have wanted me to spread.  This is for you dad...my speech...delivered on Wednesday June 5th, 2013:


The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
     - Psalms 34:18 -

Pete Olivarez - Big O as some of you know him - was my dad...and you better believe I'm proud of it!

To try and encapsulate my father's life in the time I have before you would be a disservice to him.  There is no way I could ever fully express in words what my father means to me.  Yet, there are words that will always remind me of my dad.  Words like strong...courage...honor...joker...storyteller...terco (that means stubborn)...smooth...dancer...teacher...friend...and of course the list continues on and on but there is one more I want to share with you...my personal favorite...Hero.  My dad is, and always will be, my hero.

My father was, without a doubt, the single greatest man I have ever known.  I won't lie to you.  In a sense...I feel that we've been robbed.  I had him for 33 years...my sister had him for 36 years...my mother had him for nearly 41 years...and my grandmother had him for 59 years...when I say it like that it sounds like a long time...but, to me, it wasn't long enough.  I feel like my dad deserved an overabundance of life and was instead shortchanged.  Over the past several days I have struggled immensely with that feeling...as I'm sure a lot of you have.  But we are selfish, fallible people...and all too often we do not see beyond our own grief during times like this.  I realized that even if he had lived to be 89 years old, I would still feel like it was too soon when he left.  But an amazing epiphany occurred to me when I was roaming the halls of the hospital during his last few days...You can't measure a man's life in years...you measure it in where he chooses to devote his time and love.  You measure it in his leaps of faith.  Time and love are the two most precious gifts that anyone could ever give to anyone else because once they've been given...they cannot be reclaimed.  Leaps of faith, more often than not, define a man's character...for those are the choices that are made based solely on the knowledge that with a little divine intervention...your path will remain straight.

My dad believed in choices.  Throughout his life, one of the most important lessons he ever bestowed upon me and my sister is "You are who you choose to be."  You can blame worldly forces for your condition in life...but that only goes so far.  At some point, personal responsibility becomes a factor in that equation.  There has to be a time when you accept the things you cannot change and you have to move forward.  That is a lesson I will cherish to the end of my days...and it's one that I wanted to share with you all...so that you know during your darkest hours and your most private moments...when the weight of the world has crushed your spirits and you feel like you just can't take it...know...that you have a choice...you can either succumb or you can fight.  My dad fought.  He fought for a better life for himself.  He fought for a better life for his wife and children.  And he fought for his life against cancer so that he could get to know his grandchildren.  He fought with every last ounce of his being.  And he fought the good fight...until his body could no longer take it.  Never take your health for granted.  Remember...that our time is borrowed.  None of us will live forever.  The time we are blessed with is a gift and it's not the number of years of living that's important, but living those years rightly.

I know my father didn't live every waking second rightly...that would have been impossible.  As I mentioned before...we are all imperfect and my father was no exception.  But whatever my dad's sins may have been, he's already paid for them...100 times over...and 100 times again.  To me, he suffered disproportionately to his faults.  But he handled it with more grace, courage, and strength than I think most men could ever muster...and during that time, I think he showed us the best that the dynamic human spirit has to offer.  He deserves a king's welcome in heaven everlasting.  And this is not Goodbye...this is "see you later"...because we will see each other again...and we will laugh, and we will run, and we will dance...

I love you, Dad.

The Edge

Waiting in the edge of the inevitable is unlike anything I've ever been confronted with. The well of emotions conjured up by the surrounding circumstances is extraordinarily powerful. It's strange. The recognition of conflicting ideals between what I, or we, want verses what's best for dad makes it all the more perplexing and that much harder to have to deal with.

There's nothing that can be done. The doctors said he's too weak, too malnourished, and the cancer has consumed a large majority if his insides. It hasn't gotten into his organs just yet, but its only a matter if time, I suppose. He's had strokes. Strokes that have made him delusional. I'm not entirely sure he's aware of any of us anymore. In a way I hope he doesn't become fully aware. The weight, the gravity of the decision that's been made...would be devastating. I want my dad to be ok. I want my hero back. I want us to laugh, and play, and be strong men together again. And we never will be again. Not anymore...and my heart hurts.

Cloudiness

It seems like we all just went through this.  Same time of year.  Same kind of life changing event.  Same whirlwind of emotions.

Last year I quit blogging.  Quit drawing and painting for a while.  Quit for almost an entire year...because my dad was sick.  He had gotten cancer...again.  There was a benchmark that was coming up last year. A benchmark that would have put my dad in a percentile in which reoccurrence of this type of cancer becomes drastically slim.  He was about to be in what we all thought was "the safe zone".  But...right as he was about it reach it...it came back.  It came back hard and it almost got him.  He fought.  Fought the good fight and once again prevailed.  It took an unspeakable toll on him and those of us who love him were shaken to the core because we almost lost him.

For almost an entire year I struggled with hate and anger in my heart.  It clouded my thoughts...consumed my every waking moment.  I became debilitated.  Paralyzed by an insufferable rage and enveloped in a what-does-it-all-mean kind of a way.  I think I might have done two or three finished drawings in the past 12 months.  Maybe two or three paintings.  And I vowed...that no matter what...this year would be different.  At the very least I'd carry a pad and pencils with me.  I'd go on scouting trips for subject material.  I even decided to buy a house.  A considerably grown-up decision and one that I'm proud of.  I was even able to convert one of the larger rooms into a semi-proper studio....and then...it came back.  Cancer's got a hold of my dad again.  And although the physicians and even my dad himself seem more optimistic about this go around...I can feel the clouds building in the distance...and as much as I try...I can feel myself moving toward them...