Jared’s Story
It has taken me five years to do this. Oh, I have tried. Many, many times. During my lunch break. Late at night. Early in the morning.
If you were to sift through my many notebooks, paper or online, you will find lots of starts, lots of ideas, lots of attempts…and just as many abandoned, unfinished, half filled pages. Some end abruptly in a scribble. Other just trail off the edge into nothingness.
Often I would find myself slamming the notebook or iPad shut. Tears blurring my vision and dotting the page. My throat sore from trying to dislodge the lump much too large to swallow. My wounds still a little too raw, the ache of my broken heart still very present, the pain, lingering and paralyzing.
I couldn’t push myself through to finishing even one page. It hurt too much. So I would give up.
Too Soon?
“Must be too soon.” I would tell myself. Then hear myself replying…
“Josh, it has been years. Surely by now…”
“NO! Not yet.” I would argue. “I’m not ready. I can’t finish. I can write about…something else. Someone else. Not him. Not yet!”
So I would finish my lunch and forever bury the page, never visiting it again.
Once or twice I would actually finish a few paragraphs…and absolutely hate it. It wasn’t good enough. If I am gonna write about him, I would think, it has to be my best. I can’t mess this up. But it was never good enough.
After Five Years…It’s Time
For five years I tried to write about Jared Joshua Rodriguez. The Rod kid you have never met. The Rod kid I guess many of you have probably never heard of. Because I could never rein in my emotions long enough to give him his due in words.
Until now. How come now, you ask? Why, after five years, is it time to share from the deepest part of my heart? Why plunge the depths and revisit the lowest point of my life as a man, a father, a husband?
He taught me so much.
He taught US so much. All thirteen of us (at the time) in the beautifully large Josh Rodriguez family.
We all went through this together. We all hurt like never before, our battered wounded hearts all bled, our eyes all spilled the same bitter tears. Tiny corners of our hearts withered and fell away, never to return. We were all forever changed. Reluctant pioneers on a path none wanted to take.
All because of a little boy. He drew us closer to each other than we ever thought possible.
And we never even got to meet him.
Why now, after all this time?
Salsa…
Well…because of salsa. Sounds strange, I know. But it’s true.
My wife, Victoria, makes an unbelievably delicious roasted salsa. It has taken her many years to perfect the recipe and it is as close to perfect as possible. (She makes a pretty mean Pico de Gallo also, but we can talk about that a different time.)
It all starts with her salsa. Soooo good.
Keep an eye on this page. I have a story to tell and you need to hear it. Or maybe someone you love does.
This isn’t my story. I don’t dare selfishly keep it to myself. Not anymore.
This is his story. And it needs to be told.
This is Jared’s Story…
–JR
–go directly to Part Two of Jared’s story–