A Tribute To My Long-Lost Friends

     For many years, I have been alone. Yet, it was not always so. When I was younger, I had a small number of loyal friends, who I loved and trusted with my life.  They were like me in many ways. Even now, as I suffer in intense loneliness, I still remember those few but faithful friends of mine, now and always.

    The first friend I met was my childhood sweetheart, Lupita Diosdado, who I met in February 1993, during my years at Bonner Elementary School. Lupita and I were the direct opposite of one another in many ways. She was a devout Catholic, and I was a Baptist. She was shy and demure, and I was outspoken and energetic. She was beautiful, and I was not exactly Don Juan. Yet, in spite of these differences, we were very close, devoted friends. Lupita was one of the most devoted friends I ever knew in my life. Indeed, I had considered asking for her hand in marriage one day, but unfortunately, we lost contact with one another in May 1997. I never saw her again.

    In August 1999, I met and befriended Pedro Torres, an energetic, light-hearted young boy. He was the first of four friends I would meet at Deady Middle School. The others were Randy Torres, Guillermo Rueda, and Alex Manzano. For three years, we were like a band of brothers. Pedro's mother, who he was devoted to, died in March 2001 after a long struggle with cancer, and I had to be there for him in his hour of grief. Randy never knew his mother, for she died shortly after giving him birth. Guillermo suffered from cerebral palsy, as well as polio, which later killed him before his 21st birthday. Alex was technically the man of his household, for his father abandoned him when he was three years old, and he had to assist his mother in taking care of his other siblings. In May 2001, we lost contact with one another. Surprisingly, Randy is the only one of my friends from Deady left. I still see him every now and then, even now.

    The last true friend I ever met, in late 2007, was the elderly Minerva Gonzalez, a widow with three children. Minerva had endured much suffering at the hands of her late husband. He beat her and tortured her over a period of 30 years. He was also a dope fiend. In fact, it was his drug habit that killed him. For over a year, Minerva and I were very close friends. Unfortunately, in 2009, Minerva discovered that she was dying from AIDS, which she contracted from her late husband. She called me to her house and told me about it. She and I bade each other farewell, for it was the last time I would see her alive. She died in January 2010.

    So, this is my personal tribute to my few but faithful friends. I wish them all good luck, and I thank them for their friendship and for their devotion, which I hold valuable beyond all description. I hope we may meet again, in this world or the next.