My dad one year ago in Memphis!
Playing with the girls!
Mike and my dad at the zoo, he truly enjoyed the zoo.
I’m still here!! Finally finished taxes (yes, on the 15th! Haha) and now we can move on to more!! A lot going on, some living, some organizing, some denial… I’ve found it difficult to write to say the least. I’ve had many funny stories but writing for me is done through feelings and I just haven’t felt much…
My father rests in peace now. We had a beautiful service for him in Detroit. Friends, family gathered. We spoke the words, he didn’t get to hear. The words, I’ve heard thanks to cancer. We shared stories, we cried, we laughed. A service much like my mom’s (Patricia was having no differences, afraid mom and dad would talk once in heaven together…she always spoke of equality. Haha) only this time, no mom or dad to lean on. No shoulder to dampen the fabric with sadness.
A week later, Sonia, Teresa and I traveled to Mexico to bury him. Unfortunately, the others weren’t able to obtain passports soon enough. Visiting with our Aunts , Uncle and cousins. Finding some comfort with my Uncle and his wife, we did spend many days and nights with them when we were much younger. Their children, our cousins helping us with any language barriers. Hearing many unknown stories of my dad. Stories that help one understand the life he lived and how he became the man he was. So many questions answered, I wonder why we wait to ask them when they die? Why it was many years since I was last in Mexico. Why I rarely took part in his travels there? In fact, the last I went, it was exactly 10 years, he and I traveled to his home town from Houston via bus, when life was not so complicated. When life was taken for granted.
His service much different than the States. I think about my dad’s last flight to Mexico, the arrival of his casket, the opening of it. His body a bit out of place, I repositioned him, folding his hands, fixing his suit. It was not the body of my dead father, it was my father. A teddy bear lay next to him, the one Bella gave him at the Detroit service. Soon, it was time for the burial, we all stood under a green canopy, like the movies, dressed in black, sunglasses hiding the tears… more words spoken, more goodbyes, my Aunt draping a Mexican flag over his casket, welcoming him home. The most beautiful moment. Always torn between his life in Mexico, his life in the States. Always choosing his wife and later children in the States. Now home, no decision to make.
I’ve been missing my dad. I feel so alone. I feel lost. I wish for my days when I was a little girl, a little girl who's problems can be fixed with a hug or even an "I love you." I miss him more than I can possibly explain in words. And now, the feelings I experienced with my mom’s death are resurfacing hourly and my throat is one constant lump, often talking to myself…“Just smile Eva, it will all go away.” But it hasn’t. The only things gone are my parents.
Why goodbye? How do you say, “Until I see you again?” Talking through prayer and out loud when I’m alone on Interstate 40, passing the Officer once again in his speed trap, probably thinking he’s seeing things as I pass him going east, then west and then east and west. Mostly thinking, dreaming and praying.
How do you answer questions for the little ones? One thinks Abuelo will soon awake, he will be ok. The other often asking, “Why the boo boo? Why couldn’t the doctors fix it like they did mommy’s?” I just wish they could have. Grateful they did have memories with their Abuelo, something God took from Abuela. My heart a floating shape, lost…no feeling on this subject. Often avoiding the subject, truly wanting to accept reality so I can feel again, but living in denial. Afraid of the day that I have to accept, both my parents live on as angels.
Each day, smiling. Carrying on, accepting the “condolences,” but translating the words to “welcome home.” Calling his number often, listening to the ring…believing he’s out for another walk. Hanging up. Often calling again. Hoping he will pick up. Then last night, I got a disconnect notice. I called again today, just the same notice. He’s gone. He’s really gone. But why?
Each day I’ve been home, I chose to believe he is still alive. Easy done, we lived in separate States. Many cards remain unopened. Many emails now placed in a “Dad’s Death” file in my Inbox. Unread. Soon to be read. I want to cry. I want to just let the gates open and cry, I want to create pools of water that flood my surroundings, forcing me to swim, exhausting my body of emotions. I want to feel the loss, feel the fact, I have cancer, but I’m scared. For months, I’ve been scared to open the gates. Maybe a tear here or a tear there. I am afraid I will lose all strength if I let it all out. Obviously “ok.” But is it ok? Will I gain that strength back to carry on, to continue to fight my own cancer and all the terrible side effects of cancer I experience daily. I still hope to hear those words, “You are in remission” and until then, cancer lurks too close to get weak now. For this reason, I keep the walls barricaded with sand bags and continue to smile, everythings great!
Thanks to cancer, our calls became bi-weekly. But thanks to cancer, I saw him more. God gave me time, time with him. Daily visits to the hospital, sometimes completing my chemo hours before. Sometimes, in pain, Sonia wheeling me around in a wheelchair, still in pain from my own surgery. Many days, just hours after I completed my daily radiation. No stopping me… No stopping me the day I had to say goodbye, I spent the day looking at rehab centers, calling on home services, having lunch with Maria, all after an hour with the beam. No stopping me...Goodbye my friend. Goodbye as I watched the monitor … one breath at a time, sometimes with a snore, soon to be the last, holding his hand, rubbing his head, tears trickling down my face like a spring shower without the sun, his mouth open as he gasped for what I thought was the last breath, but then one more. It was the last. I believe one "goodbye" one "I love you." I love you too. The nurse silencing the monitor, as she speaks, “He’s gone.” Bringing more silence to the room. “He’s gone,” I often replay in my head. “He’s gone” Choosing to not believe.
I spent my morning looking at a picture of my parents on their wedding day. How beautiful that day must have been. Wondering why God took them home so early. Why my mom dreamed of one day having grandchildren, yet never saw her grandchildren? Why my father, who lit up like a burning candle in the presence of his grandchildren was denied of more years with them. Why the candle only burned for five years? He only began to learn the daily life of a child. He had to work, he had to provide. I still remember my father in the hospital, preparing for his brain surgery, December 8th. Each of his children, landing in Detroit at various hours. Chatting, giving him the strength and reason to survive it… He complimented each of us.
December 9th,he did! Several months later, he was…. With many challenges that lie ahead, he continued. God gave us a few more months… I was not ready for the day he died. But are we ever ready? I was not "ok" with him passing. But are we ever? That’s the selfish side of us, the physical side. I could not save him, I could not help him. I could not take his pain. I could only watch his suffering, I know it was time.
Now Spring is here, things should be much brighter…I’m home with my children and husband. I’ve received my award from the Cancer Clinic, "...completed treatment with the highest degree of courage, determination and good nature..." that I did, but why do I feel so weak? Why does it feel like winter…the heavy snow upon my shoulders, weighing me down, the cold air, chilling my heart. Thankful to have had a great relationship with my father, thankful I was there to help him. Thankful to be by his side for his last breath. Thankful to have said, what I needed to say. Thankful my parents raised me to love, respect, care and believe… their legacy will live on through each of their children and grandchildren. By why a legacy so soon?
Thank you all for your gentle words or at times, no words. Thank you for continuing to be a loving friend. And thank you for the many hugs, don’t be surprised if I don’t let go…. :>)
A special thank you to you Pinky, your email regarding your Hawaii prayers and pictures allowed it to rain. The pictures reminded me of Mexico, where he rests. I pray for time, time to open the gates.
Love all! E
