Te extraño

This is how I love to remember my dad, Papi, as I always called him. Dancing with me at my wedding. He looks so young. He looks so happy. He looks healthy. He's alive. This was taken in 2000. Wow. A little over twelve years. He loved to sing and he would sing a special song to me in Spanish, "Marta Capullito de Rosa", for as long as I can remember. And I was totally surprised when he got up and sang it to me one last time during the reception.
He died two years ago today. He died because he had mesothelioma, lung cancer, basically. Funny, he never smoked a day in his life. I remember the night he called to let me know that he was sick, that a doctor found a spot in an x-ray of his lung. He had gone in for a completely different reason and as the doctor started going over the result of that appointment, he just happened to notice a spot and was concerned, therefore ordering more tests. They sent a sample to Mayo and it was confirmed, he had cancer. I thought, "no…papi, you probably misunderstood." but because it was hard for him to understand certain words in English, he had an interpreter. I insisted on driving down for his next appointment, convinced that this was a misunderstanding…that maybe, if they had found something, it wasn't cancerous. That it was treatable.
I remember sitting there, holding back the tears, as his doctor explained that my father was going to die. And I remember asking, how much time did he have left. 2…3…5 years?? "No", she said, "6 to 12 months. That was in April, 2009. As a child, you always just assume that your parents will always be there. Death is never a thought. They'll always be there because they are your parents. But as an adult, at least for me, I took for granted that he would always be there. I just assumed because he was my dad. And no matter how old I got, I was still his little girl.
I'd lie awake at night and just cry. Pleading with God to just spare his life. Give us a miracle. Thinking…how and why…mostly why.
When I was a little girl, money was tight. My father worked 3rd shift for Chrysler and my mom stayed home with the three of us. We lived in a little apartment. It was explained to us kids that they could not afford to throw us a birthday party that year. I think I must have been 6?? Well, as a child, you just don't understand the concept of money. And I didn't…so, I invited all of my friends to our apartment for my birthday party. My friends (about 6) started coming to the door, wondering what time my party was going to be. My wonderful dad, instead of scolding me and turning my friends away, which is probably what most parents would have done. My dad quickly ran to the market and purchased this Cookie Monster cake and ice cream. If I didn't thank him then, I should have thanked him as an adult. I didn't. I just assumed that there would be time.
7/8/10
We had just driven into Rockford, IL. around 7pm. I had planned on visiting my dad, who had been admitted into the hospital.  Because we were going to stay with some friends, we still had about an hour drive to their house. I will never forget, as long as I live, Chris had asked if I wanted to stop and see him or see him tomorrow. It was hot. The kids were crabby and whining about the long drive. I said no, it would be better to see him tomorrow. I didn't want my dad to get upset because the kids were acting like …tired kids. This way, they would be refreshed. It would be first thing in the morning. It was better this way. And as we drove past…I was tempted to say, "wait…go back" but then Pooh started crying and that thought slipped out of my mind. I received a phone call from my mom at around 6 in the morning. My dad had just passed away. I lost my chance. Even though I had spoken to him, practically every day and had already said my goodbyes by phone…just in case. I didn't get to see him in person. I didn't get to let him see me as I told him I love you. Or thank you for everything. I will always regret that. Always.
Chris and I did rush to the hospital, shortly after hanging up with my mom. And my dad was still in his room. I did get to spend about 20 minutes alone with him. I shut his eyes (they were slightly open). I held his hand. I could feel the warmth start to leave his body. His nails had not been trimmed for some time and they were long. I brushed his hair aside, he hadn't had a hair cut, it was slightly long. I caressed his face, which was full of stubble. The cancer, chemo, and radiation had left him…looking different. I spoke to him in Spanish, asking for him to forgive me for not coming sooner.  I thanked him for being a wonderful father. I told him that I loved him. And then I laid my head on his chest….and just cried...like a child. He was no longer in his body. The following days are somewhat of a blur. Because…I had 2 little kids to take care of. My husband had to be back to work. There was no room at my mom's house, my sister and my nephew were living with her. Because life goes on, we returned home and adjusted to life without him. Not receiving phone calls from him because he wanted to hear the kids' voices or hear what funny little things they did. Or to just talk with me. No more birthday cards with a special message. He had beautiful handwriting. It's the little things that you can't forget. They bring tears to your eyes, you feel this pressure in your throat…that keeps you from sobbing out loud.
About a year ago, I finally dreamt of my father, I hadn't before and it had always bothered me. I had always thought he would give me some sort of sign that he was alright. I had this dream that I saw my father in a combination of a mall and a bowling alley. He loved to bowl and he loved walking and people watching at the mall. Anyway, in my dream, I see him and I'm shouting, "Papi! Papi!" I am waving like crazy. He doesn't hear me and he doesn't see me. I then hear this voice…not an out loud voice but within my mind, "I'm showing you that your father is alright. He can't hear nor see you unless he chooses to. Right now he is happy." He looked like he did at my wedding. I believe that there is a Heaven. Everybody has a different one, what ever it may be but I believe that Heaven does exist. I believe that there is a God. I believe that I received my sign that my dad is alright. I am at peace in knowing that I will see him one day and that when it is my time, that I will see my children one day too.
I still miss him though. That will never change. Especially, when I think that my babies no longer have a Grandfather, Chris' dad passed away in 2008. My heart just aches for them, more for Pooh, he's just drawn to Grandpa looking men.