Some years ago I found myself drinking a few beers with two close friends (Tony Mercado and Rupert Garcia) at a local tavern in North Fort Worth.  At the time Tony had just lost his mom and was very despondent.  Rupert whose mom was deceased tried hard to console him.  I, on the other hand, thank God, still had my mom.  Shortly, both of my friends were crying openly as both talked about the love they had for them moms and how much they missed them.  As I observed my grieving friends I soon realized how lucky I was to still have my mom and what a blessing she was for my family and me.  After I left my grieving friends and started to drive home late that evening I decided to pay mom a visit.  When I rang the doorbell and mom came to the door she asked me if something was wrong and wondered why I was visiting her that late in the evening.  After she let me in she invited me for a cup of coffee.  As she poured me a cup of coffee I told mom what I had just experienced with my two grieving friends.  Mom, who knew both of my friends’ moms told me how wonderful those women were and indeed she could understand how much Tony and Rupert loved and missed their moms.  I vividly remember that I stood up and said, “Mom, while you’re still alive I want you to hear what I have to tell you.  Mom, you’re the most wonderful mom God could have ever given me.  You’re my best friend, who took care of me, fed me and show me so much love.  I love you very much.”  Mom sort of stunned started to cry and we both hugged each other for a long time.  Folks, I have said and done many good and tons of not so good things in my life, however, that evening when I told my mom how much I loved her has got to be one of the most treasured good moments in my life that I will hold dear to my heart until I die.

Interestingly, when mom was killed by an auto, I gave the eulogy at her funeral mass.  I remember telling those at mom’s funeral mass that if they had they moms, to call and tell them how much they loved them, for tomorrow they could be here like me, without her, and then it would be to late.

I once read that if you have good friends in your life as the fingers in one hand, you were a rich individual.  Throughout my life I have been blessed to have family members who loved me and cared for me, particularly mom’s brothers and my grandparents.  And, I must say that I’ve been blessed to have not many, but a few great and close friends.  Though I don’t have a brother (only one sister) these good men friends have been so close to me that I consider them as my brothers.  And, as I stated earlier, there have not been many of them.  Sadly, I’ve lost three of my close and dear friends (Dan Gonzales, Stanley Ayala, and Richard Griffith) through the years and must confess that their deaths were very painful to me.  I still cry during Christmas when I hear the song, “I’ll Be Home For Christmas.”  The song reminds me of the time Dan Gonzales and I were choir directors at All Saints Catholic Church for 18 years.  During Christmas, Dan and I would go over the list of Christmas Carols we’d teach the choir members to sing at Midnight Mass.  As we’d sit on his upright piano, Dan and I would sing at the top of our lungs “I’ll Be Home For Christmas,” and other carols for hours on end.  It was so much fun to be involved with him and a group of fine kids from All Saints Catholic School for 18 years.  Sadly, Dan died of a massive heart attack at the early age of 48 in 1981.  Needless to say, I was devastated and have been to this very day.

Some would think that I, being Hispanic, would only have close Hispanic friends.  Wrong!  I’ve had as many white friends and some blacks as Hispanics.  One white friend was my co-worker for many years, Rick Griffith.  Rick was the supervisor of the graphics department at Motheral Printing Co. and I, was the foreman of the typesetting department.  For years Rick and I worked very close in many graphic projects.  Besides working together Rick and I had a common interest that cemented our friendship — music.  Both of us were lovers of the old 1950s Rock & Roll Era.  Both of us had many 45 rpm and albums of those great black and white artists of the 1950s.  Later, Rick ventured on his own and opened up an Art and Graphics business that was very successful.  I went on to work for General Dynamics as an Engineer Illustrator.  But, almost weekly we kept in touch by phone.  I was honored when he asked me to give the eulogy at his mom’s funeral.  As time went on, I detect something wrong with Rick.  Particularly when I went to see him at his business.  I detected a smell that reek with alcohol.  And, I noticed that he was not well coordinated.  Soon, he admitted himself at All Saints Hospital for alcohol abuse.  I remember him telling me, “James, there are doctors, lawyers, and professors in here with me.  What in the hell is wrong with these people?”  I answered him, “What in the hell are you doing here, you damn fool!”  “Well, once I get out of here I’m not coming back,” he answered.  Sadly, he didn’t, he died of cirrhosis of the liver due to his alcoholism.  His wife asked me to give the eulogy at his funeral, which I did.  I remember telling those in attendance that Rick and I were very close and liked each other very much.  However, I regretted by never telling him how much I liked him and how much his friendship meant to me.

Last, year I lost the last of my three close friends, Stanley Ayala.  Stanley was the best man in my wedding and inspired me in so many ways.  Though he wasn’t educated, he owned a grocery store, a filling station, and was a great auto mechanic.  He also was an accomplished violinist.  Once, he invited me to go see a hotel at the Stockyards.  “James, they want $6,000 for this place.  What do you think?”  I said, “Stanley, if you don’t buy it, I am.”  Well, he bought the building and in 5 years he sold it for $150,000.  He then went and bought 10 acres at Pecan Valley near Granbury and opened up a restaurant, “Don Ayala’s” which is still successful to this day.  Stanley once told me, “you can learn to do anything you want to if you apply yourself and are willing to work hard.”

Last Sunday, my oldest grandson, Landon, 14 years old, asked me, “Grandpa, are we going to the gun show?”  I had so much to do that I really didn’t want to go.  Then I snapped, “Soon, this wonderful and beautiful grandson is going to grow up and isn’t going to care to be around me.”  Folks, I seized the moment, I said, “Let’s go son!”  What can I say; we had a wonderful time together!

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