This is a story of mixed-blessings and unconditional love from every angle....
My kid brother Luis Gabriel “Gabo”
was born on Dec/31/1972, on the day that Roberto Clemente’s humanitarian plane
crashed; I was 10 ½ years old. I didn’t know then that he was the
love child of a love affair my mother had. My parents’ physical and
romantic relationship was practically dead when she met and fell in
love with another man who was married too. Her pregnancy was an
accident, of course, and the whole world came crashing down on her to
the point that she tried to kill herself by having a car crash. Due
to this accident that sent her to the hospital with minor injuries,
was then how we (the kids) were told that she was pregnant and that
it was a “miracle” she didn’t loose the child. My parents
shortly reconciled and all things were back to our normal
dysfunctional household.
My father accepted, raised and loved
him as his own son without ever any hesitation. We (the kids) were
never told, but I intuitively became aware of Gabo’s birth
circumstances by the time I was 15. My mother let me know
“officially” by the time I was in college. Having the true facts
helped explain my parents' situation as a couple, but it did not
change or diminished in the least bit how he was our own brother just
the same. This was such a “lesson” on acceptance, love and
Grace!
Gabo turned out to be a happy-go-lucky,
charming and loving boy his whole life. He didn't have a mean bone in
his body. My oldest brother (Cuco) and I were the ones who took care
of him after school and helped with his upbringing. Gabo suffered
from dyslexia, so doing homework with him was a very difficult task.
Gabo used to call me “Mami Momia” (Mummy Mommy) from child play,
and we were very close. As he became a teenager, he spent a year off
in Germany (at Ramstein AFB) with my other brother Paco when he was
stationed there.
Shortly after he came back from Europe,
Gabo was the only brother that was able to come to my wedding when I
finally got married (to the later father of my children) in New
Jersey, after my fiance and I had been living together for 3 yrs.
It was my surprise wedding gift to Artie - right before we entered the reception
hall - to tell him that I was about 8 weeks pregnant. My family was
delighted with the news and Gabo wished us well in the wedding video
and stated matter-of-factly that it would be a boy.
On the exact day when we returned home
after our two-week honeymoon, Gabo was accidentally shot and killed in our neighborhood
by a troubled teenager who had purchased an illegal gun in the
streets. It was September 23, 1990 and my baby brother was only 17 yrs old.
He never got old enough to be told who his biological father was.
Did it matter? NO, my father was his real father, indeed!
Needless to say, my family debated how
to tell me the news because they feared I would loose the baby. The
pain and sorrow of loosing my kid brother who was almost my own child
was unbearable to say the least, but I managed to survive it because
of a “spiritual experience” I had on the plane ride that day on
my way back to San Juan, and later, because of my pregnancy and
the related happiness of finally having my own child.
As I boarded the emergency flight back
to P.R., all I knew was that he was still “alive” in the
hospital, but that he was probably brain-dead and connected to
life-support. I was very grieve-stricken and in shock, but somehow
managed to briefly dose-off in mid-flight. Suddenly, in my
half-asleep state I felt Gabo's presence as if he was hugging me right
there, as I then “telepathically” (inwardly, not actually hearing
a voice) received his message telling me that he was happy and that:
“It is all about the LOVE... nothing else matters.” I
was simultaneously feeling this indescribable deep loving peace
surrounding me!
I woke
up with the “knowing” and understanding that he had passed away, but that he would
always be there very present for me. This gave me the fortitude to
survive the aftermath of this tragedy and to complete my bittersweet
gestation period. As we were picked up at the airport by a friend of
the family, he had to timidly convey the news that Gabo had indeed
passed away while we were in-flight. I reassured him saying: “Don't
worry, I already know, I'll be okay.”
My parents chose to not press criminal charges against the teenager neighbor whose ill-fated chain of errors and bad decisions set in motion such subsequent devastating events to both himself and to our family. My parents truly forgave, showed compassion, and FORGOT his erroneous actions!
I was devastated for the next few
months until I was taken to the hospital and was induced into labor
on April 22. But my firstborn boy, Christian Gabriel, was born at
12:02 AM, April 23, 1991, exactly 7 months after Gabo's
passing, and to fulfill his prediction on my wedding night.
My kid brother was more like a son to
me, and his short life until his death at 17 yrs old was nothing but
UNCONDITIONAL LOVE. When I finally purchased my own first house in
2003, I planted a tree in the front lawn, in his memory. A
Chinese Pistache tree that would endure the extreme Texas heat. I
have since had to move out of this house due to my divorce and the
financial hardships of being a single mom... but this tree remains
growing there as a testimony of unending love! You may visit it at:
5709 Soapberry Drive, Keller TX 76244
 | |
| Dad & Gabo |
 |
| Gabo's Tree at center-left |
 | |
| Tree to the right of mailbox |
