I felt like every breath had been wiped from my lungs. Like a scene straight from a movie, my knees started buckling underneath me until I had to sit on the ground. It was as if I had been thrown into an abyss or crushed by a massive boulder. It just could not be true.
Five seconds turned into five years as time slowed down in front of me. Hot tears began to stain my cheeks. Sadness turned into anger, anger into confusion and confusion into numbness. I felt as cold as the winter snow that frosted the grass around me. It just could not be true.
During last fall semester’s reading days—essentially two days before finals began—I learned that a close friend had died. I was walking from my dorm into North Dining Hall when I was told the awful news. I could not decide between screaming or crying, cursing or asking how it was possible. I opened my mouth but no sound came out. It just could not be true, but it was.
Emilio had battled with cancer for several years. He came to Notre Dame because he was in remission; yet, as the semester progressed, so did his cancer, until it had spread too much. In the spring of 2018, he left school in order to get treatment, waiting for the slightest improvement in his condition to return, but it never did.
He was young and full of life, with the cheeriest outlook imaginable. Even when we were flustered by homework and exams, he always had the biggest smile and greatest happy-go-lucky approach towards life. Borrowing from Vicente Fernandez’s song “La vida es una copa de licor” (“Life is a cup of liquor”), Emilio’s attitude can be summarized in a phrase he constantly repeated: “Life is a popsicle. If you suck it, it’s over. But, if you don’t suck it, it’s over too.”
And he sucked it as much as he could. He sucked it through his appreciation of every moment and through the kindness he shared with others. He sucked it until it was over.
Though it breaks my heart to think that Emilio’s life was cut short, I now realize that, even when a popsicle is consumed, a wooden stick remains. A wooden stick composed of a myriad of memories which will forever remain as a reminder of the great person that he was. A wooden stick which I will now share with you:
- Life is complicated – that’s what makes it beautiful
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Life is not a steady train, it is a tornado of unforeseen circumstances. Sometimes you are up and sometimes you are down. You win some and you lose some. Yet, in the midst of all the despair it can bring, there is always something to appreciate: a ray of sun on a cold day, a blue sky in the middle of winter, a smile during a weary time.
- Put life in your years, not years in your life
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Life is a cup of liquor or a popsicle. It is impossible to savor it forever. As such, you should enjoy it to the fullest and take charge of it because one day it will simply end.
- The little moments add up
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Even though we always give importance to the “big” events, it is the unassuming, seemingly unimportant moments that matter the most. Those times of great celebration are too few and far between. I find myself remembering those little moments I shared with Emilio: the late-night walks across campus, the conversations in South Dining Hall before class, the “Maluma baby!” he always greeted me with, the after-party rendezvous at Five Guys, the selfies of him wearing an apron.
- Find strength in your memories and cherish them
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When Emilio passed, all I wanted to do was sneak inside the covers and never wake up. I didn’t feel like doing anything. Emilio’s passing took away any inspiration I had to be productive. Yet, I remembered how his dream had been to study at Notre Dame, and there I was, sulking on a sofa while I was living his dream. This realization was the most effective way of getting my head back in the game. Now, whenever I feel like complaining about work or giving up on studying, I remember that I have all Emilio ever wanted and I immediately regain control.
- Talk about it, even when it hurts
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I was aching inside but refused to let anybody know. I felt that if I talked about it, people would just offer the typical “he’s in a better place now,” and I couldn’t deal with that response. However, after a mass held in his honor at Alumni Hall, some friends and I began to share our feelings, remembering the moments we had spent with Emilio. I felt as if a tap had been opened. As all those bottled-up emotions and thoughts began to pour, I finally began to feel better.
- If it gives you solace, allow yourself to feel their presence
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One night when Emilio and I were planning to go to Five Guys, I texted him, “Please don’t leave me,” because I thought he was going to cancel our outing, to which he replied, “Never!” Even though that really had to do with not leaving me to eat my bun-less, lettuce-wrapped burger alone, I know that the message is deeper.
Even if Emilio is not physically here, I wholeheartedly feel that he is looking over me. Sure, some told me that I was being irrational or that some occurrences are mere coincidences, but the notion of feeling his presence brings me comfort. Whenever I feel flustered or frustrated, I like telling him so. Whenever the Dolphins are able to score a touchdown, I relish in thinking he somehow helped them in some way.
- Let people know you care about them
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Sometimes wondering if Emilio ever knew how much I cared about him keeps me up at night. I beat myself up over not texting him more. I wish I could have told him how much he meant to me. I wish I could call him just one last time. As a result, I have learned that no one is guaranteed to live a hundred years, and even a hundred years can pass all too fast. So, never take for granted the people that you love; let them know before it is too late.
Coping with Emilio’s death was harrowing. In a time when academics demanded my unfaltering attention and disposition, I found myself unable to concentrate. Yet, in the midst of sadness, I can truly say that the wooden stick that my friend left behind helped me pull through in the end. Because of that wooden stick, I learned so many valuable lessons that shifted my perspective and made me appreciate life in the middle of tragedy. And for that, I will always be grateful to Emilio.
Photos 1 and 2 provided by author