Four boys deep, with only hope inside that one day, God will gift him a little girl. The story goes he made promises to God and one of the virgins that if they gave him a little girl he would do XYZ. One of these promises which will be with me for the rest of my life; My middle name is the virgin’s name. The day I was born was one of the happiest days of his life. People tell me how he spent hours watching me through the glass in the nursery where all the babies were kept back then. I imagine if I was crying with any discomfort his energy and love were so strong, it would smoothly sail through that glass and sooth me without a touch.
I was his girl. He was the first man I loved. We were inseparable. I remember how much I loved waiting for him at lunch time so I could scratch his head as he took his “siesta”. I loved shining his shoes so he could go back to work looking handsome. He is so handsome. I could do no wrong, he could do no wrong. We made each other stronger. Every decision I made as a child, adolescent, young adult, and as an adult always had him in mind. I know it was the same for him. I am so thankful to God for choosing him as my dad. As cliché as it may sound, I am who I am today because of his love and what he taught me, not by words, but with actions.
It was the end of April; the day was beautiful it must have been 75 degrees. The sunlight made my room feel so nice and warm. Yet, I woke up feeling uneasy. I got a text from my brother. “Papa just died”. He had been sick for seven months, we all knew it was coming and still, It was a Surreal shock. I stared at that text for what seemed like hours. I felt nothing inside…My kids came to the room and without asking what was wrong gave me a hug, I guess it showed in my face. I remember, not reacting to it. It was as though the self I knew I was before then was gone and replaced with another. I kept thinking…we still had so much to do. We had so many plans, this is not real. The day he moved on, so did part of my soul. I was not ready to let him go; I am sure he wasn’t ready either.
It has been six years and I still feel like calling him. The best dreams these days are when he visits me, when I can feel his hugs, hear his voice and hear him laugh once again. We share stories as we used to do. I love those dreams, it makes my day extra special. These dreams carry me through; I am still working on accepting he is gone. I am very thankful for the wonderful memories we shared but I would rather have him here with me.
I leave you with some of the memories captured physically which I am VERY thankful to have.