Saying goodbye is never easy

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Cristian Vasquez

I don’t mean to be a downer but yesterday (Tuesday) I learned the news that my friend Nico’s (Nicolas) mom is on her deathbed. Agustina Chavez was a tall, full woman with a huge smile and strong character and now I have to mentally prepare for the inevitable. Agustina, like many of the soccer parents at my high school soccer games, rarely missed a game. What was different about her was that her son, my friend Nico, was a defender. Nico was the last teammate that I saw when a rival forward was trying to put the ball away in the net behind me. He was my last line of defense before I became the team’s last line of defense. Naturally a bind formed.

Nico and I were infinitely different people. He loved dancing and going to house parties; he had short hair, sometimes just a shaved head. I went to punk and rock shows in warehouses or backyards. My hair was long, unkempt most of the time as it rested on the shoulders of my Nirvana, Metallica or Doors T shirt. Still, Nico and I bonded. We were as close on the field as we were off it and as a result, I always saw his mom. Agustina always smiled and hugged us when we said hello and never left without saying goodbye.

Like many high school relationships, Nico and I went our own ways. Sadly for all of us who once knew and loved that tall and skinny prankster, Nico took a darker path in life and now sits in a state penitentiary near San Diego.

I might not have thought of my once innocent and naïve friend everyday but whenever a soccer game caught my attention, I would think fondly of our time together playing for Juventus. Every soccer match was a game of make-belief where he was the best defender and I was the greatest goalie and during our time together sporting the black and white, we were very successful. The whole time, Agustina would watch from the sideline. The last game Nico and I ever played together ended in a loss for Juventus. It was a semifinal and after having a 1-0 lead for 80 minutes, we gave up the lead and decided our fate via penalty kicks.

It’s been more than 10 years since I saw Nico but on my birthday this year I saw Agustina. We ran into each other at a mutual friend’s wedding. We gave each other a huge hug and caught up. She told me as much as she could about Nico and how he was doing and told me how she had beat cancer and was staring to feel better. It was nice leaving the wedding that evening knowing that she was doing physically better and that she was as emotionally stable as a mother with a child in prison could possibly be.

Eight months later I can’t wrap my head around the fact that she can be gone at any moment. The friendship Nico and I had was an important part of my high school experience and she was part of that process. It hurts to know that she could be taking her final breaths as I type and it feels selfish to want her to hold on any longer. I don’t know what I will see or experience tomorrow (Thursday) when I visit her but I do know that right now I am grateful for the life I have, the life I’ve lived and for having had Nico, Agustina and their family in my life.