Daddy, I miss you

On Valentine's Day 2008, at 2:30 in the morning, I lost my father. He passed away quietly at Kendall Regional Hospital, about eight hours after having been taken in for an apparent stroke that caused bleeding in the brain. He was given morphine and slipped into a sweet sleep, just like he always wanted to go. He didn't suffer, he wasn't in pain, and he had his beloved wife of thirty-some-odd years by his side.

My father was a great man. His life, which I'll never know completely, was rich in experiences. He had conflicts, I think, with himself and the world around him at times, but he was a great man. Born on January 21, 1930, the fourth child of six in Manizales, Colombia, he lost his mother to breast cancer and his father to a motorcycle accident when he was relatively young. He went into seminary school in his teens, I think, and became a priest, also at a young age. He was a priest for many, many years, in Colombia, Chile, and ultimately in the United States, where he grew disillusioned with the Church for reasons I will never know because he never spoke about it and candidly changed the subject when asked. In the early 70's, he left the church, met my mom, and they married. I was their only child.

My father was a great man. I learned from him many things: the love of animals and all creatures created by God; the love of music, art, and writing; to be open minded; to honor my family; and many more. From when I can remember, he had health problems, and because of that, I remember him involved much in my life. He would walk and pick me up from elementary school and we'd go back home together. He loved me and I him, even when challanges came and we didn't agree on things. He was a tough man. And we went through some tough times, many of those related to his health problems. There were times when I didn't know why my mom stayed with him, but I'm thankful that she did because she was his saving grace in the end. There were times when I wanted to run away (like most teenagers I guess) and never see him again, but I'm glad I didn't because I would've cheated myself from the years that came.

My father was a great man, and he suffered a lot. In the last nine years of his life, his life revolved around his wheel chair, and my mother. Because of circulation problems, he lost his right leg, right above the knee, in 1998. Since then, it has been a slow moving rollercoaster ride, inching closer and closer to his death. He was tired. He didn't want to suffer. He was reduced to being in a wheelchair at all times and relying on my mom for everything, something he was not used to. He never gave up his cigarette.

On February 13, 2008, I spoke to my dad for the last time at 11:30 am. He had recently been somewhat depressed, so I was trying to call more often. He sounded more upbeat, he was eating lunch, and we chatted for a bit. That afternoon, neither my mom nor I could reach him. When my mom got home from work, at around 5:30 pm, she found him lying on his bed, his left side paralyzed, and breathing heavily. We're not sure how long he had been like that. She called me, and I called 911. When rescue got there, the took him immediately to the nearest hospital. He'd had a stroke. I went straight to the hospital and met him after they wheeled him out of the CT scan. He did not look good. He kept calling for my mom, and for water. He never got his water. My mom came and we stayed by his side, telling him how much we loved him, praying for him, and telling him of his grandson, who gave him immense joy in these last five months of his life. I think he smiled when we mentioned Lukas. Jorge came, too, and he told him not to worry about us, that he would take care of us. I gave my daddy a kiss for the last time, stroked his hair, and told him I loved him. And then I went home to my son. Jorge stayed with my mom until about midnight, and my aunt stayed until 1 am. At 2:24 my mom called, saying that my dad was dying. We got ready to go. Not even 5 minutes later, she called again to tell us he had passed away. My dad was with the lord now.

It has been rough. I am ok one moment, and the next, I just picture him and I get so sad and can't fight the tears. I miss him. We had had rough times, but in recent years, our relationship had grown stronger, and I'm going to miss that. I'm sad that Lukas will not be able to grow up with him, but I'm thankful that he got to meet his grandfather, and that in turn, he gave my father a lot of happiness. My mom has felt his loss tremendously. Her life had revolved around him for the last nine years as she was not only his wife, but his nurse and his friend. and it's the second person she loses in four months - her mom passed away in October.

I know that there will come challenging times as we learn to live with this new void. I guess we'll just take things one day at a time. My dad will be cremated, and his ashes will be taken to Colombia - he's going back home.

Daddy, I miss you.