A goodbye

Not sure how we got here. 

The last month has been such a rollercoaster. 

I really thought we’d get through this. That he’d get through this.

I’d always thought that the stroke was the most difficult thing we would ever have to endure.

I was wrong. 

In the last month my father began getting tests and procedures done and in that short period of time was diagnosed with liver cancer. Due to complications related to it, on December 9th he left us. 

In those final moments we spoke to him, we held his hand, laid our head on his chest, and kissed him. People prayed for him, we played his favorite music, family from far away Zoomed and sang to him, and they never left his side. They held him in the softness of their voices and soothed his transition from this life. It was powerful to witness and I’m overcome by the love they demonstrated to him and to all of us. It was gut-wrenching and beautiful at the same time.

December 9, 2020

The speed at which this all progressed has left the family with some major whiplash and I’m not sure how long it will take to recover. I suspect never. At least not completely. But I do know that somehow our family will heal. We’ll heal together, move forward together, and eventually celebrate together. 

This weekend we had a beautiful Zoom service for him. 

We had family and friends joining us virtually from all over the world, from Belgium to Mexico and everywhere in between, and yet it felt like there was no distance between us.

December 20th, the day after the service, was 

their 40th wedding anniversary. 

It is all still a shock and feels impossible to accept. We’ve all processed in our own way. But we have tried filling this void with bits of laughter and sweetness by recalling the mountains of memories he left us. Some good, some bad, but all moments that have helped shape who we are.

Me in 1981.

Mateo in 2016.

When I really think back to our last encounters, I am so grateful I was able to let him know about baby number two. I am also so grateful that I got to see the smiles the news brought to his face and that he was able to talk to Florencia. 

I know to everyone it sounded like “Yayas” but I know exactly what he told her that night. He told her how grateful he was for the selfless gift she was giving to our family. He thanked her for taking care of the baby all this time and that she was filling our family with new life, even as his was coming to an end.

 He and my mom were the first to know Mateo is going to have a little sister and I am so grateful he knew that in those last weeks. My mom says she believes that their souls are together right now and he’s preparing her for our family.

She is a little light that we are being blessed with in this dark time. Though she may never get to be held by my dad, she will know his love and feel connected to him through our memories of his life and his legacy continued on in us. 

“Baby girl,

I never got to meet my grandpa (my dad’s dad). I knew very little about him and still don’t know too much. I’d always longed to hear stories and know something more about who he was.

Trust me when I say that you will know your Papa. 

You will know of his life and adventures.

You will know about his humble beginnings and how much he appreciated everything he had. You will know about his love for bullfighting. You will know how handsome and stylish he was. You will also know how stubborn and bullheaded he was.

You will know of the joy that dance and music brought to his soul.

You will know his sense of humor and we will keep his little jokes and sarcasm alive. You will know how passionate and protective he was over his family. (I promise I will try to tone it down.) You will know his obsession with sweets, chocolate, and pizza. You will know how much he loved to laugh and avoided crying. You will know that he was a fighter and did not give up when life was hard. Most of all, you will know that he loved you and longed to hold you in his arms.”

- - - an excerpt from a letter to our baby