Here is a sneak peak from a upcoming book scheduled for October 2021.
Hey guys. Let me first start by introducing myself. My name is Jacqueline Lopez, and I am talking to you from beyond the grave. No, this is not a Tales from the Crypt kind of situation. I didn’t die from COVID-19 either, which I think a quick death would have been far more pleasant and far less traumatic. But then again, trying to live through a pandemic is hard enough as it is. Maybe it would have been easier since seeing my family go through the guilt they are going through now, finding out that their beloved and unappreciative family member would die from Leukemia. Maybe they wouldn’t be blaming one another for the things I allowed them to do. Perhaps they would have done what is guilting them the most through this funeral, the feeling of taking me for granted. I am just glad they welcomed my Goddaughter to speak on behalf of the family. She amazes me every day, seeing her handle this time of mourning so well and like a champ. My lifelong best friend did amazingly well in raising Jade Kim as amazingly as she did. Yeah, she’s sad that I am not physically there with her, but I can tell she knows I am still here.
I mean, who would wear a black Yankees jersey to the funeral over her 5’4 slender built over the mid length shell with the studded rocker belt she stole from her mom’s closet, which I already know she was scolded for wearing. For that matter. After all that work, her mom put into fixing her hair to look like a lady, which I could have affirmed is a waste of time as she had mops of straight indigo hair she inherited from her half Mexican and half Korean father, which I am even surprised he’s here. He was a douche bag and an asshole to me, calling me all sorts of names, saying that I probably was a tranny because I had no kids. Surprisingly, he’s here since I the last encounter after moving to San Francisco, California, when he barged in on our Godmother, Goddaughter day, and insulted me in front of the entire restaurant at Golden Star Café in Downtown San Antonio. I am surprised he’s here after Jade said, “I’ll hold him down while you bend him over and make him say who’s your daddy now FGM.” Yeah, I may not have been the best role model for an 11-year old girl, but that’s why Melissa Gonzales was the best mom, which she still doubts herself to be. Thank you for bringing the strongest capable and badass Goddaughter to the world. She was not only my Goddaughter. She was my partner in crime through this. She was the reason why I went out with a bang.
Seeing my brother Ricardo Lopez in his best behavior is probably something I am rolling over in my grave on. He always teased Jade by saying this like “Chino Japanese. Come caca no me des,” which at 6-years she would ever cry when she would spend the day when I was depressed and had Melissa come to check on me and then when she couldn’t help, sent reinforcements in, which was a 6-year old Jade. She had the makings of drill sergeant that kid. She would come in and say, “FGM get out of bed. You have no reason to be sad. It’s a nice day to conquer the world,’ which always got me out of bed and having the little philosopher deem her. She got me into gardening when we first found out about COVID a year later after today, my funeral. She’s the one that had me stop his passive-aggressive book when I wrote the book about the memoirs of my life when Jade at 8-years old looked at him saying, “You’re just lashing out because you’re insecure.” Looking at it now from where I am now and after writing the book, he had a hard life until we were reunited by chance as teenagers and was unselfishly taken in by my amazing Abuela. The fear of losing me is what had her and my great aunt gang up on me when I started to build rage after months of crutching on busy work to deal with the fear of dying. It’s what caused dad to convince everyone I was on drugs as he denied the fact that he may be burning his daughter instead of the typical idea in the Latin community that “children are supposed to bury their parents.” Maybe that is why he’s taken this the hardest. If he only knew what I saw in him, he perhaps would stop drinking and carry the legacy of the activism I caused that everyone said: “would never do.” An unknown source tells me, my late Uncle, the father carries the baton and my Goddaughter, that he considers his granddaughter as my best friend who’s always was family ends up marrying my brother. Besides, I am told that they also live happily ever after. And my daughter marries some boy band member that the decent boy bands were NSYC, Backstreet Boys, and 98 Degrees in all honesty.
I am surprised that my maternal family was there at the funeral services. I mean, they are why my dad believed that family for saying that I was doing hardcore drugs. Truth be told, if they would have asked what was going on instead of assuming and being the judge. I am just glad they all took this COVID-19 seriously after being told at the beginning that I was paranoid. I mean, yeah, I made a survival plan that might have been something that came out of The Walking Dead,—growing a whole Zombie Apocalypse plan. And made a mini armory thinking that it would be to the point that the neighbors in my westside community. I would have killed each other and write a self-help book that is now helping my poor family come up from the ashes like a phoenix, without me, unfortunately. I guess ‘The Rideshare Chronicles” made me realize the bullshit I was doing and evoke my inner Alessandra. If Marvel doesn’t add that girl to the female superhero’s lineup, they are on something. Latin healthy, and empowering is something we all need to embrace seeing it now. It made me stronger. It made me the woman I am happy I died. It made me break the bullshit that our Latin community just sucks down to avoid confrontation. It made my gay best friend finally get inspired to find his superpower. It made him humbled and swallowed that machismo bullshit that is so embraced in the Latin community. It made him a better person. Seeing him mourning my lost makes me sad, but I know what happens in the end. It gets better. He leads the cause that my Goddaughter is never allowed to die. It made him carry on the legacy. To be honest, I am glad it was him. The funny thing is everyone said that we should have been married. But unless I had a penis, that was the only way it was going to happen. I had something better than a husband. I had a gay best friend who got a mold infection that leads to Lyme Disease, which led to this bullshit disease. That when the chips were down, was there to help me come back to San Antonio. He helped me find my way. Even after the fucked-up argument we had before my diagnosis, he finally learned how to love and, most importantly, forgive.
Now before you, all think that my family is fucked up, like that stupid lady who I don’t even know telling my three-year-old nephew that he’s going to Hell for yelling at the funeral made my family come together even more vital. It’s funny how even at a moment of mourning, they all defend my heartbroken brother that can’t speak up for himself due to the guilt that he has for not being a good brother, still has everyone standing up to the wicked witch of the west. Don’t worry about him; my Goddaughter tells him how proud I am and how much I love him. He leads the marketing program, which he was terrific at for the Latinos United program that helps aid immigrants fight the injustices they face. The illegal stuff where people abuse power and embrace systematic racism is trying to save a quick buck. Using criminal acts to have employees voluntarily give up their rights to the benefits they worked their whole lives for, they also end up being under appreciative.
So, let me get off my soapbox as Elvis Presley is looking at me like this, this hunka hunka burning love, which according to the rumors in the pearly gates, really has a thing for Latinas. That’s why he married a brunette. But the story wasn’t always sad. Let me take you back to the day my family knew that the prodigal daughter was permanently lousy home. Where they knew I had a bigger purpose other than entering the pearly gates, which low key I thought I was on the way to the gates of Hell in a handbasket. It started one November night, when COVID-19 was only the China virus in China. With a cold night doing what Latinos in Texas do when they celebrate, eat, and drink. Texas-style. With a backyard barbecue, laughter, memories, and a pig roasting in the ground with some good Coquito. The invite that my ride and dies got from Houston ended showing up, which seeing them mourning but proud is Houston. With my Goddaughter and my best friend playing DJ. Knowing that I was bummed out about how things played out, being passive-aggressive, and already beating myself up started the night with my go-to jam. The beautiful serenade of Sam Smith ft A$AP Rocky, my Socrates from the hood “I’m Not the Only One.” Get ready for it. You’re going to want to be Latin, too, after this scenario.