Javier "Vivis" Alejandro Navarro Trujillo passed away at home on February 15, 2018. He was born in Mexico and was a long-time resident of Metairie. Vivis was survived by his wife of 41 years, Barbara "Barbee" Evensky Trujillo; his children Andrew (Rachael) and Carly; three sisters, a brother and many nieces and nephews. In lieu of flowers, please send any donations to the Pulmonary Fibrosis Foundation or Congregation Beth Israel of Metairie. L. A. Muhleisen & Son Funeral Home in charge of arrangements

From a reminiscence by his daughter:

death of a father

DEATH

It all started before my dad died, when he was sick. Not just diagnosed sick, I mean that last year of his life when he was downward spiraling, sick. Though I have hand written and transcribed multitudes more than what I will relay here, we will start my tale one month before I moved to Denver, June of 2017. It was when my dad and I went on what would be our last trip to Mexico together. Just him and I.

He couldn’t walk with me though market without loosing his breath. We had to stop on benches every block so he could catch himself. He took more naps than ever. That’s when I knew it was really bad.

Less than a month later, in July of 2017, my dad I embarked on yet another solo trip together, this time we were headed to Denver for my cross country move. It was a 24 hour drive; Just him, my puppy dog and I. We trailed behind my boyfriend and some of his best friends. They were smoking blunts and blasting trap, something I’m sure both my father and I would have enjoyed at some other point in our lives (sub trap with Zeppelin for him). Meanwhile, my dad and I were listening to hours of Wayne Dyer audio, Santana’s greatest hits and chatting .

IT WAS MAGICAL.

About a week or so after my move, my family got the news that my dad had lung cancer. Unfortunately, his cancer treatment accelerated his pre-existing lung disease, go figure. Once we realized how dire his condition was, I began traveling to and from New Orleans and Denver quite a bit. However, that last time was different.

My mom called me worried and said if I didn’t come immediately it would be too late. I planned my trip down to NOLA that week. I could tell this time was different, too. My dad was waiting for me.

My dad and I spent every minute together sofa bound. Those two days were filled with figure skating at the Winter Olympics, telenovelas, laughter, tears and a lot naps.

My third day back home I decided to squeeze some friend time in with my girls for a morning walk at the park. As I was on my way home, riding in my best friend’s car, my mom called me in hysterics; my dad was dying.

Ashley sped down my street and upon arrival I jumped out as fast as I could, almost loosing my shoe. I ran into my childhood home, the house that my dad single-handedly renovated from the studs up after Katrina, to find him laying on the floor gasping for air. My mom was screaming crying over him.

I layed down on the floor with him and held him in my lap. I ran my fingers through his hair and told him he was my best friend. I assured him he was the best dad I could have ever wanted. I repeated this over and over again until he took his very last breath.

That day, February 15th, 2018, a solar eclipse, the day after Valentine’s Day, 12 days after my 27th birthday, changed my universe forever.

---

2018

Grief demands space and time. The year that my dad died I virtually abandoned my spiritual and physical well being practices. I can hear the ~spiritual teachers~ whispering through the ethers “but Carly, that’s when you need them the most.” That’s cute and all, but I sure as hell was not going to ‘fake it till I made it’. I wanted to feel it all, I also wanted to numb out while watching tv and eating bean burritos. I struck a balance in 2018 that allowed me to sulk & numb out, yet feel very deeply at the same time. I did not ~ raise my vibration ~ & quite frankly, I didn’t intend to.

This cycle continued on for 9 more months. In that time period I ate more baked potaos with ketchup, olive oil, salt and pepper than I could count (hey, don’t knock it til you try it). I dropped all my smoothie concoctions and never drank my warm lemon water. I didn’t step foot on a yoga mat. I stopped cooking all together. Roller blading was a thing of the past, and the gym was a distant x-lover. Meditation, you ask? I didn’t know her..

Guess what? I know the endorphins would have helped. I am sure getting rooted and connected with my body, mind & spirit would have been just the medicine the ~ guru ~ called for. I didn’t give a d*mn. I wanted to wallow in the underworld for a bit. Cora (Persephone) was calling me, and I gladly went to live with her for a while.

I chose to experience the pain. The depth of grief that moved through me was a testimant to my father and the presence he gave to me; the worth that he had in my world. I wanted to make damn sure I felt his impact, and his absence. I gave myself the gift of not meditating over my feelings. I deterred from biohacking my experience. I desired to swim in the grief, fully. The soil that came from this sacred, alchemical experience is already much richer becuase of it.

2018 has been the most challenging year of my life, yet I wouldn’t take it back for anything. This past year the underworld has been my very best friend. I am slowly awakening from my hibernation and shaking off the shadows. I am thawing out from this painful winter. Spring is dawning; roots are taking hold and sprouts are forming. Soon, they will grow into blossoms. I will taste my nectar, and it is certain to be sweet.

These have indeed been timultuous times, however, if there’s any grace, any gold you can take from my experience, it’s this:

Don’t fake it til you make it. F*ck good vibes only. And most certainly, do not only live in light. Let the darknesss in. She too has valuable truths to teach you. Quite honestly, she has been my best one yet.

---

THOUGHTS 4 U

My perfect day in San Miguel with my dad:

I Wake up and eat a delicious fresh pan dulce I bought from the panderilla the day before, some fruit from market, and seeds + pastries from the organic grocery down the street with fresh squeezed carrot/orange juice.

After my morning routine, I go for a stroll around el centro alone, possibly pausing at the magnificent park for a few.

When I start getting hungry, I call my dad and he picks me up for lunch (he would spend his morning managing the workers at his properties, business per usual). We go to our favorite spot to eat, Carmelas, and chow down on some amazing sopa, tacos y agua fresca.

When lunch is over we stop by the jardin and sit on the bench, people watch and chat endlessly. As he grows tired, he leaves and goes home to take a siesta. I continue window shopping and strolling.

I grow hungry and find some amazing hole in the wall restaurant and eat my face off and then find a dessert vendor on the street. I end my night in the jardin watching street performers, lovers kiss and mariachi bands play. It is magical

---

Grief is not linear

Grief is a shape-shifter. Grief will lay dormant at your feet and then strike like a cobra, stealthily, in the shadows of the night. Grief does not discriminate. Grief doesn’t give a damn about your loved one ‘being with you in spirit’. Grief is an abyss of sweet, mournful memories you would never get rid of.

Thank you for listening,

Carly Yolanda Trujillo

daughter of

Javier Alejandro ‘Vivis’ Trujillo Navarro