Every Beginning Deserves A Chance

yesterday i ended up working the 11 shift.

i got out at 1930(yup the hospital uses military time)

for my lunch i went to the viewing for David Anthony Rafael Tovar

I remember for some reason we couldn’t share the name Anthony so i called him Tovar and he called me Paul. I don’t remember much else no matter how hard i try. We had no inside jokes, no deep meaningful conversations. He was just a friend, i have plenty of friends and so did he. We weren’t anything more to one another. But i went to long beach to pick up trina so she wouldn’t miss the funeral, i drove 45 in a 30 to catch the rosary yesterday, and i cried when they put him in the ground. He had to have meant something…

When you think about it thousands of people have gone what you’ve been through, they’ve been the same places you have, and they’ve spoke the same words you’ve spoke. So what exactly do we call our own? How can we claim something that will eventually belong to another? I believe it’s satisfaction. The kind of relief you recieve when you are contempt with yourself. This feeling doesn’t occur at once. You must earn it because it is so rare. Maybe Tovar never got to feel this for himself. Maybe i’ll never get to learn why he was driven to such an exit. All I know is, tomorrow the struggle for my happiness will continue in loving memory of David Tovar.