El mes de marzo

March is an exciting month only because so much happens: Spring break for students, the winter weather changes to nice sunny days and birthday's celebrated. Mom and dad's wedding anniversary is March 29th and the last one they celebrated was in 1976. They were almost married 18 years in 1977 except that dad decided to cut that short.
The day of March 24, 1977, began as regular as it could since your disappearance. Dad was now taking medications for depression and I did see him a bit uneasy that morning, walking back and forth from the hallway to the kitchen with his arms crossed, then holding his hands together, rubbing them as if in a pensive state, looking bewildered, appearing preoccupied in his deepest thoughts.
I had my usual breakfast of toast and juice and then mom took me to school. I was in 7th grade at Little Flower and I remember being excited that I was now in those upstairs classrooms where you once were.
Around noon, I remember that I felt something very unusual that it made me look out the window and I saw a sparkle of light close to me, right there in the classroom. I was in Science class with Ms. Trevino, and after I saw this sparkle of light I looked at the clock and it was during that noon-ish hour. I didn't think anything of it until later.
After school I looked for mom or dad to pick me up after school. Neither showed up. My best friend's mom told me she was taking me home. I just loved driving around in their light blue VW van. They took me to their home over by Woodlawn lake and I waited for mom to get there. She picked me up and all I remember is that I was waiting for her as I looked out the door and I saw her walking up the walkway. Our drive home was quiet and I don't recall why she said she could not pick me up but she did begin to tell me that something was wrong with dad. When we arrived home, Tia Mine, dad's sister, was there and I remember she looked like she had been crying. Mom took me to the bathroom and told me that dad had shot himself. I covered my face and began to cry and I told her, "ok, so is the doctor going to take the bullet out? Let's go to the hospital right away and check on him". Mom was knelt in front of me and she grabbed my arms and just shook her head no, and I asked her why and she told me that he had died already.
At that moment I figured out that the little sparkle of light I saw in the classroom was dad's Spirit coming to see me and to bid me farewell. That little spark of his life was the last thing I saw of him.
If you recall, as children we use to run around in the back yard at night and catch those little light bugs and put them in containers to play with- if I had a container at that moment and had known that the little sparkle of light right before me in class was dad, I would have locked him up and asked him: why?
I was now fatherless. Aside from just becoming brotherless, I was now fatherless. What happened was that the two most important men in my life were now gone from my life and all within the span of 1 year, 8 months and 24 days. Now brother, this is just not fair. It gets worse.
The funeral was surreal to me. I felt as though I was being pushed along in a cloud. The funeral took place at Holy Rosary Church next to St. Mary's University, the university I graduated from in 1989. I wore a very bright lime green pant suit. I remember thinking I could pass for Kermit's girlfriend. Anyway, Father Ross was scheduled to do dad's mass but at the last minute, he didn't show. Some other priest did his mass but I do not recall his name. I am not sure if it had to do with the fact that dad committed suicide, but I think it did have to do with that. Really, though, I am not sure. 
After the funeral, which also took place on what would have been mom and dad's 18th wedding anniversary, I learned the details of his death.
Dad found it necessary to place a rifle to his chest, right into his heart, while kneeling down in your room, and ended his life. Mom told me she had been on the phone with Dr. Tamez telling him of what he was doing when Dr. Tamez heard the shot, he called the ambulance and the police to our little home on Woodlawn Ave. Mom was interrogated by the police. I felt so badly for her having to go through all that, all alone, in what was now an official crime scene. I can't believe that in our little home, where we shared so many memories, was now a casket of darkness. It seemed as if dark clouds were choking us and I found it very hard to breathe. Needless to say, mom's day didn't go as planned and neither did mine. Our lives were shattered into a countless number- way beyond measure- that day and we can care less for reliving that day or the day that you disappeared. March is a month I really would rather just skip altogether
After dad's funeral, I was bullied at school by my classmates as they constantly questioned me what happened to my dad- they wanted to know how he died (I got the feeling they knew the truth somehow). I was given direct orders to say that he died from a heart attack because attending a Catholic school and adhering to strict beliefs held by the Catholic Church and of the commandments, especially, 'thou shall not kill', and that anyone who committed suicide went directly to hell.
I suffered from many dreams after that, seeing dad falling down into a hole of fire. I felt that every time my "friends" would ask me how dad died, they were laughing behind my back because I knew that they knew where my dad would end up.
Mom had pictures taken at the funeral in case she needed to show you. I don't think she would want to anyway because the rumors then began that dad did this because of you.
I don't really care to reason why he did this because I know now that anyone who can take their own life is not reasoning very well in their head and most of all I asked myself- wasn't I worth it for him to not do it? Wasn't mom worth if for him to not do it? There is no reasoning here- at all- but I do know there is forgiveness and God does forgive those who go to such lengths, those who are desperate and hurting beyond belief.

Back Home Again by Clara Ashmore

Some urging within me keeps calling
For me to come home just once more.
My thoughts travel to faraway places,
To the land where I'd been long before.
My faltering steps prevent wandering,
So, only in dreams can I flee.
In my chair I sit and remember
It's the place where I want to be.
Tonight I will walk in the moonlight
Listening to the sounds close by;
On the grass dew gleams like diamonds
As if stars had fallen from the sky.
I will think of the home of my childhood,
To the place I still hold most dear;
As I close my eyes and remember,
The memories flood back all too clear.
I can feel the sun and soft breezes,
The smell of my mom's apple pie.
I imagine the days of my chidhood
With the magic of dreams long gone by.

I just received this Salesian Inspirational book today in the mail and when I opened it, I immediately came to this page. I do believe in destiny, and I felt I was destined to read this poem. It does fit in with my blog and the reason why I am writing this. Although my childhood was filled with adversity, I do still cherish the memories before the heartache began.
I would like to thank Clara for writing this because for me, it just fits so perfectly.

Remembering you

This photo was taken of us around 1965- it looks like you are around 5 or six years old here.
Abuelita had high hopes to see you before she passed, so did Abuelito. They kept giving mom birthday cards for you on Christmas Eve every single year. She still has them to this day. I guess it was a manner in which our grandparents could keep your memory alive and doing this just proved that they believed in your return, as well. Now that they are gone, physically from earth, I truly believe they are watching over you from heaven above. Their love for you never relinquished. Just knowing that is enough said.

On our mom's birthday today

Our mom turns 74 years old today, February 18th. If you can remember, she has two birthdays, this one being her real birthday and on September 18 because that is the date they registered her in Allende, Coahuila, Mexico.  We are lucky she has no health problems, thank God, just that she is going to have surgery on her cataracts. The one thing that has worried me is after so many years of living alone, she has made resolutions to her circumstances on her own and in her own way. The one thing that has helped her along the way of living as a mother with her only son missing, is her faith in God. As a matter of fact, she is at church right now and is staying for a charismatic meeting after mass. I am thankful for her strong and undeniable faith in God and I am thankful she has modeled that to both of us, since we were children, she has been very stern about her faith. I hope that where ever you may be, that you will think about our mom and say a prayer for her because all these years she has wondered if you have ever told anyone where you come from, who your mother is and where she is from and so forth. She is a model of faith to me and will remain for as long as I live and I hope she means the same to you.
Feliz cumple años, mamá.

Another note from Tio Raul

Cindy,
  Shortly after Junior's disappearance your Dad and I took several trips to the coast looking for him or looking for anything about his whereabouts.  We visited an Aunt of his (coastal town??) that scolded your Dad because she hadn't seen any of your Dad's family in a long time.  We also saw a nephew of his in Houston maybe Rene..not sure.  We camped out on a corner store's parking lot one time and the clerk called the cops on us. 
  Another time found us in the middle of evening beach festivities (didn't have a brew..I wanted one) we just looked and looked through the crowds.  Later that night we were cruising at highway speed and we took out a beautiful German Shepherd lying in the middle of our road.
  We showed Junior's picture and talked to many people in all those little towns looking for any shred of news or information.  I think we scared some folks in the process..some told us things we wanted to hear just to get rid of us.

Tio

The little pink tennis outfit

I don't know if you remember how much we use to go play tennis at Woodlawn Park but I know I liked it very much. As a matter of fact, Dad use to play tennis with us a lot and I remember how one time I hit that tennis ball so hard that I sent my racquet flying across the net, too. It was so funny. Dad and I busted out in laughter that we just couldn't stop laughing. I can see that racquet flying really, really high and away and thinking to myself, "I shouldn't have done that!". Dad saw how much I enjoyed playing with him that he signed me up for tennis lessons at San Pedro Park. My first class was scheduled for June 29, 1975, that same Saturday that you disappeared from the Ayala family. Right before we left for Matagorda Beach after the phone call, I folded the little pink tennis outfit I was supposed to wear to my first tennis lesson and placed it in my dresser drawer. Seeing it just brought back the saddest memory for me.
This wasn't the only thing I withdrew from after you disappeared but also the guitar lessons, the piano lessons, the flute lessons and the clarinet lessons. It was as if the music died in me the day you became missing.
A few years ago, when I picked up the guitar to play at the church where I was teaching, I became overwhelmed because the music we were playing was from the '70's and it was music you and I use to sing to when we attended mass at Little Flower Church where we attended school.

Life after your disappearance

It was very difficult to face reality after your disappearance. Dad was very adamant about finding you. Since the private investigator did not work out, he pretty much took things into his own hands. I remember him leaving the house and not knowing where and how long he would be but he was very deep in his own thoughts. I did find out that the Ayala's reported dad to the authorities because he would park at San Pedro park, across from the Ayala's house, and just kept an eye on them. Dad was very suspicious of them because as it was they had told us that they planned on going to Corpus Christi, not to Matagorda Beach. Why they made a change without letting us know still does not make sense. If you are holding yourself responsible for another child's life, then it is just logical to make those parents aware of any deviation from the original plans.
Dad spent so much time looking for you that, one day, when he was making his rounds around Brackenridge Park, another driver hit dad from the back in his black and white Ford. This accident caused him whip lash and it made his job as a map maker, difficult. He was not able to bend his neck easily in order to look into that machine to draw those maps at Fort Sam.
Dad applied for a medical disability and he was not given a full disability. He had to do something with his time and so he went into business for himself. We rented an old store with the house in back of it in the West side of San Antonio. I'll ask mom the name of the street and edit this soon. But it was pretty neat and I saw dad getting himself involved in a project that kept him busy. Originally he had wanted to buy the place over on Bandera and Woodlawn and make a Laundry mat store but that did not pan out. So dad took over this little store and I remember we sold candies and old furniture. Dad would restore these old, antique chairs and sell them. I remember there was a refrigerator for meats and even an electric meat trimmer. He did use it once to trim a brisket. I still remember to this day how he did it. I also recall how he was redoing the little house in back. The entire floor was taken out and I remember walking through the dirt inside the house. Dad had a lot to do now and it kept him busy.
Dad also started his own franchise of a candy company through Tio Ramiro's candy store from Reynosa, México but here we called it RoMar for Rogelio and Marina, and we had all the recipe's to make Tio's candy. I am not sure if this occurred before we had the furniture store or after. We rented a place next door to Tio Pilo's little store and that was our 'fabrica' where we made the candy and packaged it and then dad would go out and sell it to little stores. I would help mom mix the ingredients together in large plastic bowls and help her package the end product into bags or into little plastic cups. Dad taught me to use the sealer machine that would melt the plastic of the packs. I would also go with dad downtown to buy the boxes, the little Daisy cups, the rubber bands, the labels for the boxes with the company's name printed on it. It was fun and I learned a lot doing that.
Just recently, I went with my friend to buy some apples downtown (my husband and I made candy apples for our daughter's debate club) and the store we went to was right across the street from where I went with dad to buy the boxes. I was so overwhelmed when I saw that place that I even dropped my purse because I could see this 12 year old little girl walking into that place with her dad and it has been 36 years ago. The chills of that thought/image must have made me drop my purse.
What to do after you left was an overwhelming task. Now that dad did not have his job with the civil service just made things worse and that is when he became depressed. These projects he attempted just were not replacing you and it did not work for very long.