Joel, 44

'The Father'

“I’m originally from the Santa Cruz area. I was raised a fourth-generation winemaker. I was raised on a winery. I ran the place till I was about 20 years old. I was driving tractors there by the time I could push the clutch down. I was pulled out of public school by 9 because I witnessed a suicide. I became very anti-social, which I still kind of am. My best friend shot himself on his birthday at his house. We were playing hide and go seek, and I found him just in time to hear the shot.

I was born with a gift for fixing anything. I understood tools, not people. A tool does what you want when you want it – it does what you expect of it. It was a sense of purpose. I’d wake up in the morning and have something to do.

I was on the streets by choice because my dad was a religious hypocrite – do as I say, not as I do. I challenged his religion, and he threw me out. But my grandparents and I got along, so, I stayed close and worked at the winery all the time. He died without me understanding why he never cared or nothing. I’d have given anything to hear the ‘I’m proud of you’ once out of that [expletive]. At 12, I was told I was the product of birth control gone bad and to get out of his sight. I was never wanted. And through life, that’s always how it’s been.

I could put back together my world if I can get my truck and my tools back. I’d just rather go see my daughter. She’s dead. In 2019 she died at nine years old. She rang the bell on bone cancer and died of a heart attack a week later. She looked around the room after waking up in her mother’s arms and said, ‘I’m not ready to go mommy,’ and then died in that breath. Ever since that moment I (trails off) … she was the only purpose I had. I was dad.

I buried my heart when I buried her. I just stopped caring – I let everything go. So many people give me advice on how to get over it. You don’t. It doesn’t get easier. In fact, it gets harder every year that goes by. Once I lost Jessica, nothing else comes close. Nothing can hurt me; nothing can make me happy. It’s a double-edged sword. I haven’t laughed once in five years.

I guess that’s why I’m lost – because I don’t have home, and I don’t have work.”

Photograph and story documented by Stephen Speckman.