I never got to tell you how much you mean to me.
You’re gone, but you changed my life in a way that words can’t express—or at least not in a way I can put together—but I’ll try.
As a child, you were full of curiosity and wonder. You had a wild imagination and wanted to do so much. You loved wearing ties and dressing up because you wanted to be a lawyer. You always behaved well and excelled in school. You really enjoyed when Ms. Jasmine would read The Chronicles of Narnia to the class. Remember when you were in The Lion King play? People thought you were gonna be gay because you were a momma’s boy and had long hair. People used to call you a girl because of it. Eventually, you had your parents cut it.
In middle school, you began smoking weed, doing graffiti, getting into fights, and eventually getting locked up in Juvenile. I remember you were always suspended, and the cops and principals all knew you. Remember when you were accused of writing a death threat to a teacher and were under investigation? It turned out a girl was the one who wrote the note, and you were blamed because of your reputation. That’s also when you met Jose and Adrian, and you all became best friends. You were from a different crowd, but they looked past that and accepted you. They were different, and that’s what intrigued you.
In high school, you began doing more drugs, especially pills—you really loved you some Adderall. You don’t remember, but you took Xanax and almost got run over by a car. Luckily, your friend pushed you out of the way before you got hit. Or the time you got so fucked up you slept outside of an abandoned house. You eventually began selling coke at school, and your supposed friends ratted you out for money. You got arrested and expelled, which led you to that Bexar County school.
Since you couldn’t go back to Jeff, you went to the Phoenix Program, where your friend Adrian went with you. He didn’t want you to go alone, so he asked to go too—Adrian was always a great friend to you. The definition of a friend. That’s where you both met Mark and Raul. It was amazing how your energies just clicked, like you’d all known each other for a lifetime. In less than a year, you all had a terrible car crash where all three of them died—but you miraculously made it out alive.
You woke up from a coma in the hospital, on Christmas Day of 2004. I remember your room was always full of family and friends. The staff knew you as the one with the most visitors—especially since everyone had to go through a lot just to get onto base at Wilford Hall. You’d ask where your friends were, and they’d just tell you they were in another room. Your ex, Arlana, was also there every day, and you were an asshole to her. There you were, in a hospital bed with no teeth, face fucked up, tubes coming out from everywhere—and you still managed to ask why she was there? You even told your parents to tell her to leave, but they didn’t. She loved you. And days later, you’d find out she was pregnant with your child. And you questioned her? In front of your parents? You denied it?
Every day, your room was full of people who cared about you, but one day just felt different. The energy in the room changed. Everyone was there—and then they told you. Adrian. Mark. Raul. They had died. They didn’t make it. They died instantly. I recall the look on your face. Expressionless. Just there. Maybe hours later it hit you. You began to cry. That was the first time you felt true loss. It was all too much to take in at such a young age.
Years went by, and that’s when you moved in with the woman you fell in love with. I know that you were madly in love with her, and she meant the world to you. She loved you and cared for your little girl as if she were her own. A while later, you both found out you were expecting another child—a baby girl. You were both filled with joy and excitement for her arrival.
For a while, you were both happy and completed each other. Things were perfect; I know you were the happiest you had been in… ever.
I don’t know when or how exactly it happened, but you began selling coke and were doing well for yourself. I remember you were even selling to your bosses at work, out of strip clubs, well-connected—and maybe that’s when it started getting to your head. I know that you started using again. It started small, but then you began doing more and more. You then started freebasing it to get a better high. You eventually started using more than you were selling.
You started doing so much coke that you stopped going to work. You had money saved up, but that eventually ran out. You even flushed a bunch of coke down the toilet because you were so wired and paranoid you thought the cops were breaking your door down.
You had an infant daughter, and you’d be walking around the place with a bunch of coke on a mirror. So many times, you were too wired to drive to pick your daughter up from daycare. She was always the last one to get picked up, after hours. The girl you were in love with eventually had to leave because she didn’t know the person you’d become. Losing her—and the family you built together—broke something in you that never fully healed. The addiction had already consumed too much of who you were.
Years later, things just got worse. You became full of self-pity and blame. You blamed yourself for tearing your family apart and began feeling guilt for wasting the second chance you got after your car crash.
You continued using coke for several years and eventually got involved with meth. You kept losing job after job because you’d stop showing up. People wouldn’t hear from you for days, sometimes weeks at a time. You’d lock yourself up in your house and shut the world out. I know you wouldn’t eat or shower for days at a time. Your house reeked of chemicals, sweat, and cigarettes.
Your daughters would come spend time with you, and they’d only see you lost in a daze, as if no one was inside. Your daughters loved you and were too young and naïve to know what was really going on. I know that your mom and sister would go over to take your daughters out to eat and to the park to play. I know, deep inside, your daughters wondered what was wrong with the man they looked up to.
I know you really loved and cared for your daughters, but you were far too consumed by the drugs, and you lost all control. I remember there was a time when you threw away all of your furniture because you were so convinced there were bedbugs. You almost threw your daughter’s turtle away—poor Donnie. All along, it was in your head because of the meth. So many nights went by with you wired and paranoid, just looking out the window thinking someone was outside your second-floor apartment.
I also remember a time when you broke the window to your apartment late at night because your daughter fell asleep while you went to pick up meth and got locked out. You smacked her and broke her phone. I know that night haunted you until the end. You never laid hands on them, so I know that one really hurt you. That’s when your daughter knew something was wrong with you.
There was the time your dad had to take you to the emergency room because you were close to dying. You are so lucky that he got there just in time. How did he even get inside?
I know the little boy full of hope and love was always inside of you, but he just became consumed. Sadly, the drug addiction had its claws wrapped around you so tightly that you couldn’t escape. You had no chance. I know you always loved your sister, mom, and dad—but most of all, your daughters. Since the beginning, they meant everything to you. You were so happy to have them. I know your love for them was real.
They were the only ones who loved you unconditionally, even though they never met their real father—the man underneath the addiction. Your daughters maybe only saw glimpses of the real man you were, the few times you were sober.
You’d be proud of the young adults they’ve become.
They’re both in college, have jobs, and have their own cars. They are happy and living wonderful lives. They have plenty of love in their home and feel protected and safe. They don’t get into trouble and have great friends. I mean this in the best way possible—but they are nothing like you.
I know that you suffered a lot at the end and were in a very dark mental place. I know that you tried killing yourself to end the misery. I know that you had to go through a lot of pain and sadness. I know that people thought less of you and didn’t respect you. Some people you thought were your friends took advantage of you and didn’t respect you. I know you overlooked some of the things they did because, to you, they were your friends.
You had already lost your best friends and didn’t want to lose more.
I wouldn’t be the man I am today if it weren’t for you. You showed me how to stand up for myself and demand respect. You taught me how to love and not be afraid to embarrass myself in the process. You showed me that life is short and can end at any moment. You showed me how to forgive and how to be a friend. You showed me how not to let go of the people who truly matter to me—not to let go of the one I love; to never lose hope and to never give up on her.
You showed me how to love my family and never put anyone or anything before them. You showed me how to love and be loved. You taught me what a real father is supposed to be to his children. You taught me how to be a better son and brother. You showed me what happens when someone loses themselves in drugs and bad influences. You taught me to love myself no matter what past I have. You showed me not to feel ashamed of the things I’ve done, but to use them as strength—something that pushes me forward.
Thanks to what you endured and persevered through, I can now live an amazing life. I’ve been able to accomplish so many of your ideas. I created your website, I created one of the apps you thought about, I even got to write a book. It’s not the one you wanted to write—you were in a very bad place when you had those ideas. You’d be proud of the one I wrote; you were the inspiration.
Thanks to you, I’ve been able to travel to other states with my family. I’ve zip-lined and skydived, like you wanted to. You wanted to scuba dive, so that’s still on my list.
I have an amazing relationship with my kids, my parents, and my sister, and I own an amazing home. I’ve been spending plenty of time with my kids, giving them the moments you always dreamt about. I love, trust, and respect them, and I give them the life, love, and attention they deserve.
My love for you has no words. You were tormented by your past and haunted by your memories, seeing death as your only escape. You let life pass you by and wanted to end it all. You lived every day in anguish so that we could have the life we have now. I will forever honor you for it. But I will never forget the sacrifices and suffering you had to endure for us to have this.
You are gone, but I will always carry you with me in every accomplishment. Everything I do is in your memory and will have you standing with me. I want to live forever now — to look toward the future, spending my days creating new memories to vanquish the old.
I owe you my life.
For without you, I wouldn’t be me.
I am not better than you, for it is thanks to you that I can move forward with my life.
You are gone, but you will always be with me.
I won’t let you die in vain.
I’ll make your death meaningful—transcendent.
Goodbye, Jerry Corona.
