Happy Birthday Daddy

Your photos abound in my house, fringing on masochistic memorials in all corners of each room. One small but predominant, mystically powerful corner designed and inspired by she who will remain unnamed, who knew exactly what my new four walls were missing, a corner that would ground me and guide me all at the same time. A half-filled glass of water which is very difficult to explain to the gringo-folk and a candle eternally burning one hundred percent against all fire safety rules. You linger like a soft and quiet aroma of freshly baked cookies and at the same time drum loudly at every instance when I realize you're not actually here. You haunt my days but never visit me in the dark lonely nights when I wish and pray for some sort of apparition that would prove your words of promise that you'd always be near me. Where'd you go? Where do we go after it's all over? Is it warm there? Is it sunny? Are there flowers? Is there music? Is it like your paradise island trip of which I have a picture taken before I was even a thought? I think you were maybe in your 20s and you'd obviously basked in the warmth of the innocent sun like a lizard happy with his cricket extravaganza . You looked so happy, so young. So different. So opposite of the life-worn, sickness-stricken shell of the man that was used to always be my strong, tough and steel toed daddy...that last sight of you...that has remained the worst memory of our time together. Do you remember that day? I hope not, you were lying there, white, not pale but nearly grey, and thin, so thin. You were cold to the touch except for your hands which still baffles my science brain. Or maybe I just imagined you had a warm hand so as to ease my fear of the realization that your heart had stopped and you had left me.

I must admit, there are days when you don't cross my mind. I feel ashamed, guilty for that. But I know it's what you would have wanted. You would have wanted me to smile everyday and love to the extreme every moment and I swear I'm trying. When I do the math it's been almost a quarter of a century that you've not been here. That's more than my brain can comprehend or maybe just more than my heart can accept. More than half my life has passed and you haven't been here. Sorry daddy, but that's not what I signed up for. You didn't walk me down the aisle, you never met your namesake, my son Joe, you never helped mend my many broken hearts, you never saw me regrow and rebuild myself for the fifth (or sixth) time, you left me, you left us and no, I'm still not ok with it. I know you'd say right now "Angie, get over it honey, these are very small things compared to the big picture." Because this is how you were, you lived a life unremarkable by poets standards but it was crucial in a very important manner...to me. I hope one day I'll have such a grand impression on my own child as you had on my own life. 19 years was not enough to show me everything I'm sure you wanted to teach me but it was substantial and quite indispensable.

Your almost gapped toothed smile, your silly Urkel-impressions, your uncanny knowledge of anything war or US history, your strong handshake, your undying patience and unrelenting kindness to strangers, yes I have these to keep as memories...as the faded but strongest bricks holding up what I think is my safe house. But sometimes there are really not enough. You weren't here for times when I really needed you, when all that would make it better was a hug from my daddy. Times change, the clock keeps ticking and the earth rotates on a dignified and scheduled axis much unlike my own, frayed at its ends and incredulously rickety so much so that sometimes I fear it moves backwards.

Some days life seems normal, peaceful really but I'm sure that's complacency brewing a sense of survival. And i Miss you. I can be driving to work and see a hawk in the air above me. I know its likely some dead carcass that they are wretchedly scavenging for food but yet for me it's beautiful. You always loved hawks and always said they reminded you of life and death at the same time and of your Native American spirits that somehow guided you through tu santisimo (because unless you know you'll never know) and your life that was meant for so much more than the short period you got to spend on this ball. I see that bird flapping its unyielding wings and all of a sudden I feel a rush of peace, of normalcy, of calm, of pure, unfiltered and untarnished life. I roll down the windows, I crank up the radio to full blast, and I touch the wind. My fingers feel the freedom my heart will never experience and for one sweet moment I'm there with you. Flying with you, wings spread, and I glide through the world that truly is stunning if you take a minute to stare at the details of the forever instead of wide-eyed focusing on the drastic qualities of the temporary.

It's still not enough. I've been wandering the last 20 plus years like a lost fawn. I think maybe I was too young to fully understand how to take care of mom, how to be an adult without a father at 19, too inexperienced in life to really know how to handle it all. So I admittedly went off the rails for a bit. But somehow I hope I've made you proud since then. I'd like to say you're not a memory, but a living and constant multi-faceted portion of the puzzle that I've pieced together of my life. I keep sorting innards scared to sort through the pieces that scramble together. Maybe I've earmuffed myself but I don't hear you, I don't see you, I don't feel you around me. At least not like I thought I would. I imagined I'd hear your voice in hard times or at least get a sign. But where did you go? Sometimes it's like you never existed except in my memory. I clearly, sadly so, sitting in the pew with mom and Silvia behind me at your funeral, was not really present that day in church. I didn't cry, I didn't give a eulogy, I went through the mass motions like a good catholic and walked out and lit up a cigarette. It was as if it wasn't happening. I'm sure so many of our family think I was being childish or young or stand-offish. I think I was trying to pretend it wasn't really happening. As if I closed my eyes really hard and willed it away you would come walking down the street arms open wide and say hey angie, just kidding. I thing I maybe held on to this idea for a while, years maybe. It made it easier, helped me to keep waking up really.

And here I am, 23 years later. I have a son named after you and he's just like you in all the best ways. I wish you could meet him, I think you'd really like him. He likes history, just like you, loves Mexican food just like you and he's quiet but when he speaks it matters...just like you. Most of the time, I tell myself that you reincarnated yourself in him. This way it hurts less, it feels better and I can imagine that there is still a part of you here with me. I tell myself that I'd never be the same mom if you wouldn't have left. Meaning that because you aren't here, now I make an extra effort to be an even better parent, like you would have wanted me to. But truthfully I know that's a a sham. I'm still impatient, I'm a mess sometimes to the point where I'm even mean to my own mom, which I know you'd hate. Sometime the unquiet in my head is so much that I can't take it. It's those moments I wish I could talk to you. I do, I mean, I speak out loud, scream sometimes, hoping you'll answer somehow .There's so much happening that I can't control or even calm. I wish you were here. I know your presence wouldn't change the situation but maybe it could quell my fears, i don't know, maybe help me to feel safe like I won't be f'ing up all the time without backup. I can't do it all. I'm trying so hard and I think you'd be proud of who I've become in terms of my heart and soul, maybe not so much of actions and outcomes.

Let me tell you daddy, that's heartbreak right there. Not a guy cheating you, because that's happened a lot mostly because I'm...well...I'm me... but heartbreak due to a life un-lived, a promise unfulfilled, that's basically your daughter. So much promise, so much intelligence, so much education, so much drive and will. And all unused..as of yet. I promise you one thing. I couldn't make you proud of me before you died but I will most definitely make you proud of me before I die.