Daily Archives: August 16, 2011


It was just this past Saturday that Dennis got the news:

“Hey. I’m very sorry to break into the comments area and to interrupt things here, but I’ve just received very terrible news from my friend Darrell Lynn Alvarez aka d.l. Squeaky concerning Antonio, who, although he hasn’t posted here in a while, has long been one of this blog’s most brilliant and loved people, artists, and d.l.s. I will paste in Darrell’s letter below, and I send you all my love.”

“Hello Comrades,
I’m sending this note to all my FB friends who are mutual friends with Antonio Urdiales. Chances are you have already heard about his health crisis, or possibly you don’t actually know him (Tony was easy with the “friend” button) … but it is also possible that, like myself, you simply stopped seeing his posts and hadn’t thought much about it.

So for those of you in the later situation, I felt I should send word. Tony is very ill, and, well I won’t draw it out, his doctors say he has maybe two or three weeks left. Obviously there’s not much we can do except send love and good thoughts his way, but I just thought some of you might want to know what was happening with him now.

The news is so tragic. He’s only 26 and a very talented artist, a bright young man with a wonderful dark sense of humor and real vision. He inspired me often (through his Live Journal posts, letters, and conversations) as he probably did some of you. If you wish to send messages to him, the modes are:

Here at his facebook profile, Antonio Urdiales.
Through friending his mom, Dovey Mcwhorter.
Through the hospital email card system, https://www.bhsala.com/forms/CareCards/indexShelby.asp
Or, by snail mail:
Shelby Baptist Medical Center
1000 1st Street North, Alabaster, AL 35007-8607

One of his classmates has also set up an email account for sending messages, and she visits him often, or so I heard. Antonio.I.Heart@gmail.com

It’s hard to say which is the best means, or how capable Tony is right now of getting messages. He has some mirco-bacteria that settled in his bone marrow, once there it goes for the major organs quickly. This all happened quite suddenly, which is why I’m sending out this mass message.

I’ll also take this information and turn it into an events page in case you want to spread the word and let others know.

I hope this message find you in good health–that very valuable gift–and that you are doing well these days. All the best, and love,

And so we wrote what we could.

And then this morning —

“Tony left our world at 8:45 this morning. He was surrounded by family and friends and listening to his favorite music. He went peacefully in his sleep, and now his pain and suffering are over.”

Here’s his tribute page.

Antonio is someone I knew for a short space of time — and a long long time. He’s a figure looming up at one spot or another across the course of my 64 years. Yes he himself was unique — brilliant, funny, wild. We Dennisistas eagerly awaited his every post. And for awhile I had some e-mail exchanges with him regarding codom use — which he was against. We lobbed back and forth about this several times, and then he stopped. I knew what was happening. I’ve seen it before.

I’ve lost so many. Mostly in the 90’s. But it never goes away. They never go away. Not really.

Consider this music video he made–

Alas I won’t be able to go to Antonio’s funeral.

My favorite film is about a funeral

In a key scene in the film the following poem by Stevie Smith is read

“In my dreams I am always saying goodbye and riding away,
Whither and why I know not nor do I care.
And the parting is sweet and the parting over is sweeter,
And sweetest of all is the night and the rushing air.

In my dreams they are always waving their hands and saying goodbye,
And they give me the stirrup cup and I smile as I drink,
I am glad the journey is set, I am glad I am going,
I am glad, I am glad, that my friends don’t know what I think”

If someone could read it at the funeral I’d really appreciate it.

Recently Gus has made quite a good film about Death and Mourning.

But can one ever be truly reconciled to loss?

I ask. I do not know.

Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau will sing us out