A BETTER PLACE A Memoir of Peace in the Face of Tragedy

Nonfiction

Peace and purpose, compassion and forgiveness

A BETTER PLACE

A Memoir of Peace in the Face of Tragedy

By Pati Navalta Poblete
256 pp. Nothing But The Truth Publishing

Reviewed by Sala Wyman

When an aborted robbery results in the death of Robby, her only son, Pati Navalta Poblete, Pulitzer Prize nominated journalist, embarks on a personal journey of healing. She discovers, however, that becoming whole again is much greater than her own pain and terror.

The quest for wholeness becomes one that encompasses more than herself, family and friends. It extends to a larger community of coworkers, business associates, and, finally, to the four men responsible for Robby’s death.

Robby was 23 when he was shot and killed. On the day that he died, Poblete and her fiancé (her second marriage) had just finalized their wedding plans when she received phone calls from Robby’s grandmother and her daughter Julie. She remembers:

I can only describe what happened next in bits and pieces. Flashes and blackouts. Life-and-death. And limbo. Imagine the earth beneath you opening up and swallowing you whole. Imagine feeling everything good inside you — love, joy, kindness, trust, security, hope — burning and scorching to embers giving way to fear, desperation, anguish and helplessness.

With his murder, Poblete found herself immersed in grief, a loss of religious faith, and fractures in her relationships with friends, family, and her fiancé. People who knew her as a vibrant, extroverted reporter watched helplessly as she withdrew deeper and deeper into a dark silence. And there was a new issue. It was one thing to write about gun violence from a journalistic distance; it was entirely another to experience crime against a loved one herself. Poblete had become a member of an alliance that no parent wants to join.

A Better Place is the author’s documentation of her search for peace and healing. Although Poblete insists that her poignant story is not a “how-to” book, I disagree. She reaffirms my belief that achieving wholeness after trauma is rigorous work. It takes courage. It takes a spiritual warrior. As I read her words, I walked with Poblete through her stages of grief to her attainment of peace and purpose through the lessons of compassion and forgiveness.

In the beginning, Poblete numbly, robotically accepts the traditions; nine days of Catholic prayers for the deceased, friends and relatives flooding the home, priests and church officials guiding her in prayer. But what she cannot accept are those worn-out words that fall from people’s lips, “He’s in a better place.”

Her journey includes psychotherapy and, throughout the book, she documents her therapist’s notes. These are important for the reader because the notes illuminate the unimaginable depth of her pain and struggle.

Anything that Robby loved, Poblete dives into it. She reads his books on Buddhism and spirituality and she’s drawn to a passage from Thich Nhat Hanh:

Our capacity to make peace with another person and with the world depends very much on our capacity to make peace with ourselves.

Poblete embarks on the physical practice of yoga, Buddhist teachings, and meditation. Through these practices and the guidance of Buddhist monks, an inner door opens that allows her to feel the rawness of her loss more deeply. It is through these practices that she is introduced to the concept of forgiveness, something that Robby would want her to do, even when she cannot forgive.

Before he died, Robby had encouraged her to plant flowers in the garden behind their home because they would bring color. She planted a beautiful garden that included rose, lavender, jasmine, and “blossoms in every color imaginable.” She hung a sign over the roses Robby’s Roses and placed a statue of a meditating Buddha in the garden. Gardening, she says, was the beginning of her healing through nature.

And then she discovers that one of the murderers is a nephew of one of her closest friends. Another struggle. Another fractured relationship.

A reporter friend and former coworker who’d known both of her children since they were very young shared his insight after Robby’s death. Assigned to the crime scene, he talked about how the experience of the personal connection to the victim began his own search about the human nature of both the victims and the killers. They all have family. They all have been loved. They all are equally dead.

The theories of forgiveness do not make sense to Poblete as she struggles to retain her sanity daily. Her son was murdered in broad daylight at a busy intersection by men who got nothing in return.

The murder was in 2014, and the preliminary hearings did not begin until 2016. That was the year that Poblete became active in the gun safety movement. Campaigning against gun violence caused by the purchase of illegal weapons, seeking stronger legislation for background checks, and focusing on the sources of gun violence gave her a purpose.

In 2017, one of the results of her efforts was the creation of the Robby Poblete Foundation and the City of Vallejo’s declaration that June 30 would always be Robby Poblete Day in his honor.

Good or bad, I didn’t want to focus on my trauma anymore. I didn’t want to keep revisiting what caused me pain. Because now I had a purpose.

Poblete sought, and still seeks, closure. Closure would have been seeing Robby marry and have children. Closure would have been growing old with Robby at her bedside as she passed from the earth. But she cannot get that kind of closure.

She goes back and forth between the messages that she wants to give to the young men on trial for taking away her son. Sometimes the message is one of forgiveness.

Seeing your suffering does not ease my own suffering. It has never been my goal or our family’s goal to seek revenge.

Other times, the message is fiercer:

Robby did not deserve to die. He deserved to live his life, pursue his many dreams, make mistakes and learn from them. He deserved to grow old…

In the end, Poblete observes:

Only I have the power to give myself closure now, and that will be through forgiveness. I do not believe that any of you were born with hate in your heart. You were born as Robby was, with innocence and openness. I cannot judge you for the decisions you’ve made, but I can try to forgive you knowing that you are human and are worthy of compassion.

Poblete has reached a better place.