Oh Sali 09/30/2009
 
Dear Sali, Happy Birthday sweet young woman. We love you and miss you, pretend this is everyone who loves and misses you screaming your name and our love from the tops of cliffs and mountains, where our voices might carry the farthest and find you wherever you are today.
     We too died a death of sorts this year from all our grief, but I suppose we must still pretend to live.
      Your Birthday today, but you will always be a young 20 to us, not 'the wide-eyed and young' Sali  but the young, beautiful woman that I will always remember you as. It's lovely here, I can see you everywhere I go, you seem so tangible but so far.
I keep pretending that you're not gone but just continually riding some trains to somewhere.
   This is our Scream from Cliffs for you,
Sali Sali Sali Sali Sali Sali We Love You, Sali We Miss You, We will Always Be Sad That you Have Gone, But
We Will Always remember your Stupidwonderful laugh, You were our amazing present for those almost- 21 years. Happy Birthday Sali.
.
 
 
salita. how am i gonna get through this? i havent written you because i know its just too painful to be reminded that youre not there to receive it, but right now i dont know how else to make these memories three dimensional and i need to be surrounded by you. i admit, i have these moments pretty regularly where i think to call you or write you because i forget that youre dead. i remember the dream i had of you, when i was like where the fuck have you been? and you laughed and said just living outside of town. i wonder if youd like the things people write and say about you. i sometimes cringe, as it appears the way i knew you and the way other people knew you have very little to do with each other. i dont remember young, wide eyed or reckless. i knew you "late" in your life, as it were. i had so much respect for you, immediately. i saw this person who was serious and scared, like i am. and i feel so lucky to know about your alone moments, the ways you felt hurt and hesitant. i think we both saw ourselves in each other, just as so many of our dear friends predicted. and i wanted to protect you, isnt that fucked? i just remember the gesture of you spreading the butter in your hands, talking about gettin through the fear. you writing to me about puffing your chest out to trick people into thinking you had it down. you and me shouldve found a disgusting little cave to hide in instead of running off in separate directions, pretending we were way more confident than we really were. our vulnerability was a secret that we shared between us, and i think sometimes we even fooled each other when we were realllly insecure. i saw so much worry in your face and i fucking love you for this. why the fuck not? i could tell that you had a lot of defenses up, and you had been wronged far too many times. and i remember the strongest desire to erase the pain you were living with, the feelings of rejection and confusion. i remember sitting in the kitchen together, quiet, lamplight, tea. is that fucked up? you were asking me, as if you didnt know that you had a right to be treated with dignity, honesty, respect. its been a year now since youve been gone, and i wish i had something more to offer you. i wish i could be like, here, borrow some of this excess strength i took on since we last saw each other... i wish i could say that ive stood up for myself enough for the two of us or that ive become brave in the places i used to just pretend were brave. but im not there yet. im admitting this to you, in secret. because we both know that its not safe to let other people know that we falter. salitamija. i cant forget the images of you fighting in slow motion. i remember feeling lucky to be your self defense partner, because you were attractive and intimidating and it was a way for two frontin tough-asses to create intimacy between themselves. but perhaps this wasnt on your mind at all, perhaps you were just concentrating on your form. either way, i remember the way your body moved to defend itself and it haunts me. i have so many memories of being physically close to you, as if i always knew where we were in relation to one another even though i had no idea how much i was paying attention to it at the time. we got to be friends in a strange context. cleaning wounds and serving soup and whispering translations back and forth. sleeping in the cruz roja together because we were the only girls in the camp. im repeating all of these memories because they really are nourishing me. sometimes i forget to remember the good things, the tender moments, and focus too much on my sadness and anger that youre gone. i wish i would think more frequently about the sound of your voice pronouncing "tranquilo" and "acento", and the look youd get on your face when youd be pretending to listen to someone, really impatiently. for many reasons, i saw this face a lot. and also this face of yours that was so revealing of sadness but obviously not wanting to show it. sali, i want you to be proud of me. i want to be making the decisions that i would have wanted you to make. does this make sense? we are cabronas for a reason, shit. come visit me more often, hm? it sucks without you.
 
what a hard year 09/02/2009
 
i don't want my grief to be all that is left of my friend, this is a great fear of mine.

when i am not so overcome, i wise up a little bit and know that my vivid memories of sali are burned into my brain, that they aren't going anywhere.  she lived too hard and joyous and strong to fade away.  i cry when i think of how wonderful you all are to have kept sali alive in so many ways: through this website, song, sharing memories among our mutual friends, through memorials, through struggle.

christ this is an intense night for me, for some reason.

if you all haven't heard it yet, my friend santa's band "adelitas" wrote a song for sali, called "la que lucho" or "she who fought". the chorus says: "la que lucho por la vida, no se le llama muerta, tampoco morira" or "she who fought for life, you can't call her dead, she will never die"

my grief is so inarticulate.  it tastes like salt and smells like simple green cleaning fluid... i got a call on the bus on my way to work at a youth shelter last year, that's how i found out.  i couldn't stop shaking.  i got to work and a friend/coworker called and called to find coverage for my shift, which he eventually did.  if i left, the shelter wouldn't have been able to open for the night and 30 teenagers wouldn't have had a place to sleep.  i couldn't stop crying and saying "sali" and folding laundry and scrubbing down counters and hoping someone would relieve me before the youth came. the tears just keep coming and my breath catches in my throat, thinking about it all.

she has touched so many people.  one of my new coworkers, at a transitional youth house, heard about her story independently of me... and was so touched by sali's courageous, silly, raunchy, and sweet life.  she felt a connection, and was so glad that somebody like sali existed.

its almost been a year, im trying to think about what i would like to do to honor our friendship and her glorious existence.  if any of you have any ideas, please post them... i read and re-read this all the time.

hugs all around
julia (pdx)