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Eulogy for My Son

Saying Goodbye to Alex René - A Father’s Worst Nightmare

By Thomas G RobinsonPublished 5 years ago Updated 2 years ago 17 min read
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Better Days - Alex and me at his high school graduation celebration. 18 months later,  I would stand before everyone we knew and speak about him and his very short life on this earth.  

For my first Vocal post, I want to honor my son, Alex René Sanchez-Robinson, who passed away January 12, 2018, at the very young age of 20 years. It should be noted that Alex wasn't ill, wasn't deranged or a problem child. He had no police record, and no trouble with gang affiliations. He was just "Alex," your run-of-the-mill, young American boy, born and raised in California. I will go into more detail regarding his passing as time goes on, but for now I am going to post this eulogy I gave in front of over 200 family members, friends, and strangers who attended his service in Bakersfield, CA., on January 27, 2018, at Stockdale High School, in their school auditorium. I hope this touches you as you learn a little about him, and what a great person he was.

Alex René Sanchez-Robinson

June 22, 1997 – Jan 12, 2018

​I would like to thank you all for coming on this mournful day. My mom and dad, my brothers and sister, her brother and sisters, and all his cousins who journeyed here to help us celebrate my son’s life.

I would like to thank Cindy Pope and Sam Jenkins for everything they’ve done for us, for my family, Alex’s mother, Liz, his brother Andres and sister, Melissa (who flew in from Arkansas).

Especially, I want to thank Cindy Pope, who in one phone call, when I asked if she’d speak at Alex’s funeral service, surprised me by not only agreeing to speak, but, asked if I had a venue yet. After letting her know I was still in the process of securing a place and mentioned some spots downtown, she immediately eliminated all the weight that comes with planning the unexpected, by setting all this up here at Stockdale, and I thank you Cindy, and I’ll never forget the support and graciousness you’ve shown me, that you’ve shown us—for Alex.

I would also like to thank every person who agreed to speak tonight:

Drew—for being the cool teacher that Alex gravitated towards, and for being a friend of mine for over decade.

Guinevere—another long term friend—thank you for being the best and most patient and nurturing “first” acting teacher a boy could have.

Susan—thank you for recognizing Alex as an “old soul,” and taking time to converse with him and really listening to him, and then responding to him in a way that made him want to do more in school.

Matthew—Thank you for letting me know that Alex and you had a wonderful friendship, filled with fun and sorrow. It’s all necessary in the big picture—the good and the bad.

Yes—all of you came and spoke about and for Alex, and he hears you, and he truly loved you all. Thank you.

Now… let’s talk about Alex René Sanchez-Robinson.

His name.

Liz got to pick this one because I named both Melissa’s and Andres’ first names, and she chose their middle names. She decided she liked the name Alex. Not Alexander, or Alejandro, or anything—just Alex.

​I thought that was cool.

​I thought I’d honor my little brother who gave his first born my name for a middle name. I gave Alex Marty’s middle name. That’s where the René comes from.

​Now the real suffering—both boys are “hyphenates”.

​Sanchez-Robinson.

​Liz always thought my name didn’t properly reflect our ethnicity. In a way she was kinda right, as it often brought confusion to anyone anywhere waiting for me, and expecting either a white man or a black man… right? I mean, who are these Mexican Robinsons? How did that happen?

​So, the Sanchez-Robinson name was given, and for the rest of their lives they had to deal with computers and school records that cut their names of at "Rob"… So, their school names have always shown up as "Sanchez-Rob" on their first days of school—and for every first day of school, throughout their entire education.

​Sorry boys—but, I blame your mother.

Alex was always supportive of my efforts in theatre here in Bakersfield, and he went to almost every production I was a part of. Not because he wanted to, but, because it was ‘my weekend’ and he had no choice… that is, until he had a choice, and then he still came, most times.

​But being around theatre didn’t automatically create his love of theatre, in fact I think it worked in the reverse, initially. But as he came into his own and realized his own love of performing, he had joined the drama class at his school and quickly began to blow us all away.

​Truth be told, Alex loved theatre, and he loved this theatre. He called this building his “Happy Place,” so it is oh-so-fitting that we are here today celebrating him, and talking about him, and his much too short of a life here on this planet.

He loved the separation from real life to a character he was portraying. His last performance of live theatre, I believe, was on this very stage. If you didn’t get a chance to see him as ‘The Giant’ in Big Fish, or ‘Fruma Sara’ in Fiddler on the Roof (that last one, I proudly say without fear of sounding boastful) you should know that Alex stole the show in his one amazing scene! (Sorry, Noah).

​I was in awe of what Alex and Cindy accomplished in their vision of the dream scene Tevye made up. Alex was very proud of the performance, too. When the DVD arrived he actually wanted to see it so he ‘could see what everyone is talking about’.

​But, I’m going to take you back to the Alex we knew from before he was even born.

Already, he was making an impact as he was two weeks late... overdue, and Liz was huge, uncomfortable, and just “done with the whole pregnancy” bit. Finally, they decided to induce labor, and Liz was soon to naturally give birth to a ten-pound baby boy. Ten pounds! It was a rather large start to a child who would eventually weigh less than anyone his height should be.

​By the time he was seven or eight, he was already a skinny kid. In his teens, when he decided to become a vegetarian, and then a vegan, we always worried about his weight, thinking he was too thin. We would often tell him he was too skinny, but he would just blow us off saying we worry too much.

​Being the most cautious kid we’ve ever known, it’s ironic that Alex left us as a result of a fall, or that it happened that way at all, as he was one of the most careful people I knew.

​I’ll cry about that and run this through my head for the rest of my life, but Alex… well, Alex had a morbid sense of humor, and to tell you the truth, he would have laughed his ass off at the irony here. He really was always so careful.

​To be honest, by contrast, we were more worried about Alex’s brother, Andres, who had broken his arm twice, knocked out his two front teeth at the (no longer) annual first grade end-of-year skate party at Hart School. Let’s see, Andres also had to have stitches on his forehead and lip, and had us make several trips to the ER for various other injuries. This, all before the age of ten.

​On one ER occasion, it was to repair or patch up a scraped nose from falling face-first onto the blacktop pavement at Hart School, because Andres would run forward while looking backwards. A problem he still has today.

​It got to the point where the doctors and nurses started looking at us funny, and I started wanting to have witnesses to everything Andres did. Alex was supposed to be my witness but he was a horrible witness. You see, he was also very fond and very loyal to his brother, and refused to rat him out, and, growing up, he had several opportunities to do so. But, it was a pact—and Andres returned the favor. They were good brothers.

Looking back at them and their antics, I never knew what was going on, and that was just the way they wanted it.

​You see, Melly was the loud and direct one, often taking charge and making up rules to games as they were going along (the perk of being the oldest sibling—you get to rule over them). Andres was the one who believed everything she told him, but then complained just loud enough to where it was getting to where I might hear, and she’d quickly offer a quick fix to shut him up. But, Alex… Alex, on the other hand, was quiet and careful and observational. He watched and absorbed everything around him.

​As a child, he was quiet and shy, but that soon would disappear when he came into his own, and became this outgoing personality that you all had the pleasure of meeting in high school or knowing as a relative.

​But, I’m getting ahead of myself. So, where was I? Oh, yeah, we had "Mr. Cautious" and "Mr. Careful" and "Mr. Observational"—but, we also found out we had "Mr. Little Old Man" and "Mr. Grouchy", too.

Let me explain.

​When Alex was about five years old we were visiting my brother in law, Martin, in Monterey. We were sitting in his front yard on lawn chairs when Alex started acting up, and got himself sent to a room to ponder his actions.

​It was rare when he was a little shit, but, on this day he was. So, we sent him to one of their kids' rooms. A room that we thought had no phone, but soon found out that it did. A mallard duck shaped phone that I missed in my inspection.

​When a police cruiser came closer and closer to the driveway and parked, and an officer got out of the vehicle kind of slowly and somewhat bewildered, I immediately thought to myself, “Alex.” Kind of like how Jerry Seinfeld says, “Newman” in his show. It was just like that—“Alex”.

​Oh, did I forget to mention that my brother in law is a detective and assistant to the district attorney? The officer must have felt somewhat weird when he told us he is here to answer a 9-1-1 call alerting them that a little boy is being held captive and against his will.

​Yes, our five-year-old son ratted us out to the cops! The police man went in the house, and there was Alex, with eyes as big as saucers when he saw the officer. He had a ‘holy crap’ look on his face, and was probably thinking that if he was in trouble before, oh man, that’s gonna be nothing after this officer leaves!

​We went ahead and balled him out some more, cop present! Then the officer lectured him on the importance of when to actually call 9-1-1, and then he gave him a badge sticker! Yeah, for his crimes the officer rewarded him!

​Later, when it was all over, we laughed about that for years. Martin, being a cop and all, was able to get the recording of the 911 call and made us a copy. And just so you know I am not stretching the truth, this is the recording:

​(A recording of the 911 call was played at this moment. At the end of this writing is a link to a video montage of Alex, his family and friends, which includes this very call).

​And, That was Alex.

​Here’s another interesting story about Alex as a toddler or little person. The other night I wrote a song for him, and one of the lyrics is that Alex was ‘chasing all the ghosts away’. Well, that's from another true story that stuck in my head while thinking about him today.

​He was about four years old and we were at my mom’s house, in Paso Robles, and (my sister in law) Sheila and I were outside sitting on the front patio talking. Alex was facing away from us and looking around the corner of the building and then started seriously talking harshly to someone… like, ‘You go away, you bad people! You go away from here!”

​He was loud and convincing and pointing his finger and gesturing toward that direction—just really letting whomever it was have it.

Sheila and I looked at each other somewhat confused, and then slowly peered around the corner to see who he was yelling at, only to find there was no one there at all! But, looking at Alex, you couldn’t tell by his expression and conviction, as he kept on demanding they leave.

​We looked at each other again, and I looked back at him and said, “Hey Alex, who are you talking to?”

​He said, “Those bad people!“ pointing to no one that I could see.

​I thought to myself, "Great, I’ve fathered a Ghostbuster."

​And that, too, was Alex.

There’s so many stories to tell you about Alex, that I could go on all day… but, I won't. However, I do want to tell you about one more thing. Well, I want to tell you about his character.

There was no one, and there never will be anyone like Alex.

​He was an original.

Alex was the most genuine person I’ve ever known. When most people, especially young people, are going through their lives trying to find out who they are, Alex didn’t. Alex always knew. He knew who he was from the beginning, and he handled things himself. Even when those things were more than he should have handled alone.

​Like when he tried to sign an incident slip from a teacher who told him to have his parent sign the form and return it to her, so we’d know what a nuisance he was being in class that day.

Did we see the slip? No.

​We saw it when we were called into the principal’s office and Mr. Stevens showed us an incident slip—only it was signed by Alex!

​How did we know it was Alex?

In all his cleverness, and his ability to sign my name pretty darned well, he forgot one simple fact. Although I’m pretty liberal with what color ink I use, I have to go on record here and state for a fact that I have never, ever, signed a teacher slip in crayon. A factor that was lost on Alex at the time.

​I can go on and on about Alex, and I will for the rest of my life—to whomever will listen. But, what you should take away from this is that you can’t or shouldn’t live your life worrying about your children, and what will become of them all the time. We will, it’s natural, but they will become who they are going to become no matter what you do.

​Alex was a leader.

He didn’t start out that way—well, he didn’t take orders and he didn’t follow the crowd—so, well—I guess he was a leader. I should add that, specifically, he was a leader for causes that involved helping out mankind.

​He was a Naturalist, too, which is also ironic.

When we went to Camp KEEP (me, a two time parent/counselor), at the end of the week, sitting around a campfire in Montana del Oro (near Morro Bay, California), the Naturalist asked each student what they will take away from this experience.

​After everyone had gone around the circle answering the question with great examples of what their favorite activity was, it came time for Alex to say his part, and I sat there wondering what one thing he found most enjoyable there.

​He said, “Well, I spent a week here, and I am glad to be going home! I hated everything having to do with this place and I can’t wait to get home to my nice, warm bed.”

​Horrified, I looked at the counselor and he looked at me aghast, and said, “Wow, that’s just really sad… I’m sorry you feel this way.”

Afterwards, after the shame and embarrassment I felt in front of all the other parent/counselors whose children all beamed with what was considered acceptable responses, I had a revelation. I thought to myself, "you know what—they asked a question and he answered them, and truth be told, I wasn’t feelin' it all that much either!"

Here’s another irony. After all that, As a grown man, he wanted to be a Naturalist. He loved the outdoors, and he cared about the environment and all its creatures.

It was his love of the teachers at this school that made him want to dive into the activities surrounding the school—and he even mentioned that he wished he had joined drama and chorus earlier, and that he wished that he was more active in school and extra-curricular activities sooner.

​It was because of teachers like Cindy, Susan, Guinevere and Drew who turned him around, and because of them and towards the end of his very short life, he actually was considering becoming a teacher.

​In the end, he was okay. He was all the things he wanted to be.

​He was a philosopher.

He was a singer.

He was a musician.

He was a painter.

He was a songwriter.

He was an artist.

He was a smart-ass.

He was the most caring man.

He was gay.

He was a vegan.

He was a lover.

He was a friend.

He was a brother.

He was a political activist.

He was a cousin, a nephew, and a grandson.

He was a writer... and he wasn’t afraid to give you his opinion on anything and everything.

He was a leader... and he was a fine person.

A truly fine human being.

But most importantly… he was our son.

He was my son.

In closing, I just want to tell you all the importance of being with, and watching your kids no matter how old they get.

We were super careful with all our children.

We were the ones who would teach them about how to handle any situation, like what to do if one of their friends asked them if they wanted to see their dad’s gun when alone, and they even had a password for anyone who said they were there to pick them up on their parents’ request (it was “pink-apples” for some reason).

​But, no matter what you do, no matter how much you try and make things safe, and their lives safe, and the world safe... and no matter what neighborhood you live in, or state of mind they’re in—whether it's loving you, hating you, loving life, hating life… none of that matters in the end.

​What matters is that they always come home and go to sleep in their beds, and you can bitch them out the next day if they are in trouble.

Just let them come home first.

​Because, that one time that they don’t come home, that one time that you think they’re just blowing off steam, or are frustrated and need time to themselves, and they don’t come home… well, that’s the one time that when something like this happens, you’ll question everything you’ve done, or could have done, and you’ll be beside yourself in pain and suffering and it will be the worst night of your life.

​So, I tell you now, hug your kids every day.

Tell them you love them—every day.

Know where they are every day.

​We did all those things and we are still at a loss.

​In closing, I want to thank you all for caring—your comments, well wishes, thoughts, and prayers have meant the world to us, and I thank you all for being here for us.

​For Alex.

​I love you all and I will love you, Alex, for forever.

​I will miss you, WE will miss you, for the rest of our lives.

​Our little old man.

Our little philosopher

Our beautiful boy.

We will love you for forever.

​ Love – Dad

​(You can hear the actual 9-1-1 call here, and also see some images of Alex in this beautiful video produced by his Uncle Martin)

grief
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About the Creator

Thomas G Robinson

A grandfather, father, son, brother, and friend. He's also a student in a masters program, artist, singer/songwriter, actor, writer & college grad making it through each day scathed, damaged and broken ... but, he’s still making it! Kinda.

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