June 21st, 2020

Months have gone by and nothing brings resolve to the thought of being without a loved one. It’s reactionary and almost simple to say, “Think of all the memories that you shared, the time you had, the moments you spent."

Truth be told, I’ve caught myself using some of the very phrases. My father was the type of man that carried his heart in the palm of his hand, metaphorically- handing it out to whomever needed it, at the precise time they may need it, without reservation or cause. My father placed everything and everyone before his needs, it’s simply the type of man he was. How can I simply think of the memories if what I’m desiring is to make many more?

It is difficult to describe how life just goes on. I mean it truly must, that I know. He was not an all-star basketball player or famous singer or anything remotely close to being known world-wide. He was plain and simply, my father, the first man I ever loved. What does it matter to the world? Nothing is the cruel answer, nothing more than flesh and bones turning into dust.

But in my world, my father was the person I could talk to when I was lost as a child, or hug tight when I was scared, or just sit next to and just be me, so carelessly and free.

I wrote my father’s eulogy January 31, 2020, kneeling beside my bedside typing away while tears streamed down my cheeks. I haven’t read it since. I have an idea what it said, but even as I typed it then, through my tear-filled eyes, I can’t help but think that it did him no justice, no words could ever bring to life for others what I carry in my heart. I printed it and read it in front of, what felt like, hundreds of people.  I then folded the eulogy, drizzled and damp with tears - placed it next to his right hand, where he wore my watch, which mysteriously had stopped at exactly 10:00 pm on the 28th day of some random month.

(My father died January 28th, 2020 at precisely 10:00 pm. I too would not have believed it, had I only read about it, not lived it, but it’s as true as the love I have for him.)

For those who may want to read it, I will post it today to honor his life and memory, both in Spanish and in English, Happy Father’s Day to all of the fathers left on earth, as well as all the fathers looking down on us from heaven. God Bless and until we meet again pops! 

Mi Padre

Como empezar, tal vez con un recuerdo desde cuando yo era un niño pequeño. Era un Datsun verde de dos puertas en el carro que me enseño manejar mi padre, 5 velocidades si me recuerdo perfectamente. Aun mis pies no alcanzaban los pedales del automóvil, pero los libros amarillos de teléfonos me ayudaban, mi hermano Rafita, como el le decía, esperaba su turno ansiosamente en el asiento de atrás en el estacionamiento del Paul Revere Middle School. Falle varias veces, se me apagaba el Datsun, mi padre frustrado me trataba de explicar mis errores, yo le miraba los ojos verdes, y todo estaba bien en mi corazón.

Esta canción triste tal vez la reconozcan de la película La Bamba. Fue una de las películas que le encantaba a mi padre. El fue un romántico de corazón toda su vida. Amo a mi madre hasta el ultimo suspiro, y ella a el. Su maruquita le decía, y bailaba, la besaba con pasión, y si también la jodia por desayunos o cenas que ella a veces estaba muy cansada de preparar. Pero era como que el amor le daba la energía y ella terminaba cumpliendo con sus deseos. El tenia una labia impresionante para expresar su amor. Claro, muy influido por los grandes como Camilo Sesto, Julio Iglesias, Alci Acosta, los Bee Gees y bueno muchos mas, pero quizás nadie como Leo Dan, y la canción favorita de el, Mary es mi amor. Y fue verdad toda su vida, Mari fue el amor de la vida. O cuando se sentía mas Americanizado le cantaba Lady, de Kenny Rogers o Woman de John Lennon, la lista es tan larga no se pueden imaginar. Mi padre era un romántico de corazón, mi madre le miraba sus ojos verdes, y todo estaba bien en el corazón de ella.

Mi padre adoraba a mi hermana. Era su "Little girl." No se diga mas, me recuerdo momentos en donde ella se subía encima de el y lo entrevistaba, mientras buscaba su cartera para poder ver cuantos billetitos tenia. El sonreía solamente y la trataba como una princesa, era siempre el castillo de Orbelina Isabel, y ella lo sabia. Ella le miraba los ojos verdes, se los habría con sus dedos pequeños, y todo estaba bien en el corazón de mi hermana.  Mi padre amaba a su Rafita, el chelito. El militar le decía como un tío militar que teníamos, cambiaba la voz muchas veces para enfocar un punto y hacernos reír a todos. En los gestos, eran iguales, y le quedaron varias a mi hermano, los chistes hasta la manera de silbar. Yo nunca aprendí, pero me alegra el corazón mucho del saber que mi hermano puede, para que un día que me haga falta el viejo, lo pueda llamar y pedirle que me silbe como mi padre lo hacia. Cada vez que el lo hacia los ojos verdes se le habrían a mi padre, mi hermano lo remedaba, y todo estaba bien en el corazón de mi hermano.

Mi padre adoraba a sus hermanos. Era una relación distinta y única, pero siempre se preocupaba, lo digo porque me lo confesaba a mi directamente. Desde el Tío Manuelito, Tío Jaimito, Tía Martí, Tía Trini, pero mas por el Tío Liquito, el cargaba con muchos pensamientos y preocupaciones, se le notaba en sus ojos verdes la angustia, pues mi padre siempre mostraba sus sentimientos de esa manera. Quien cargara ese pesor grande de este momento en adelante. Pues a mi padre lo toca descansar sus ojos verdes.

Sus sobrinos formaban una gran parte de su vida. La prueba mas grande es que siempre estábamos juntos todos, yo diría cada fin de semana no era extraño vernos reunidos, pasándola bien, escuchando a los hermanos y a las hermanas reírse, gozando de momentos que ya no llegan tan frecuentemente, pero si lo puedo decir, siempre los extraño. Desde Ito Lima, Angelita, Cowabunga, Los pisitos, El Nino Edson, Ricardinho, Bertha, Edgarin, Oscarito, Jaimito, Jan Carlitos, Mino, y bueno la lista se extiende tan larga que aquí pasaríamos toda la noche. Les quiero asegurar que mi padre los quería mucho, y espero siempre lo sepan.

"La Wendita, y el Camilito," vinieron después pero el impacto grande estoy seguro que se lo llevan del chelito, ustedes no saben cuento el los quiso y los seguirá queriendo siempre. Nunca olviden sus ojos verdes, su sonrisa, sus chistes y cuentos.

Sus nietos, ni se diga mas, ese hombre adoraba a cada nieto mas que a sus propios hijos, pero que lindo se siente decir eso. No hay competencia en el amor, solo sentimiento.

Todos sus amigos de todas partes del mundo, no cesan las llamadas a su celular, verificando que esta triste noticia no sea verdad. El lo daba todo, y pedía nada, así era mi padre.

Un recuerdo tan presente es cuando llegaba la noche, desde pequeños, mi padre nos alineaba a mis hermanos y a mi. Una para revisarnos los dientes después de habernos lavado, con sus comentarios siempre listos para hacernos reír. Y después, nos agarrábamos de las manos y rezábamos por todos en nuestra familia, mi padre pensaba en todos siempre. Rezábamos y yo miraba a mis hermanos sonriendo por que siempre fueron unos de los momentos mas felices de mi vida. Pero confieso que el momento de niño mas feliz era cuando mi mami me mandaba donde el para el me peinara, siempre me hacia el peinado de Ritchie Valenz, todo el pelo para atrás y en medio me acariciaba mi cabeza y sacaba un poco de pelo, en mi mente, yo era el muchacho mas guapo en la escuela los días que el me peinaba. Mi padre me sonreía y yo lo miraba directamente a los ojos, si esos ojos verdes que nunca olvidare.  No me recuerdo la edad de muchas memorias o el tiempo exacto- pero lo que e aprendido es que momentos especiales en nuestras vidas dejan de tener valor del tiempo, solo queda valor sentimental.

Y bueno, eso es lo que mi padre deja a su tierna edad de 59 anos, un valor sentimental insuperable. Sus ojos verdes ya nunca abrieran, y yo ya nunca lo escuchare, el era mi padre, el hombre que mas ame. Pero ahora le toca descansar al lado de su hermano, el querido tío Manuel, para el resto del tiempo en este mundo, y en parte eso me tiene tranquilo el corazón, mi padre no estará solo, y el tío, los abuelos, el suegro, los esperan al lado de Dios, así que papi, te amo, y se que un día llegare corriendo asea ti para que me peines otra vez mas y yo me sienta la persona mas guapa en el cielo, mientras mirare a tus ojos verdes para toda la eternidad.

My Father

How to start, perhaps with a memory of when I was a small child. It was a two-door green Datsun, that was the car that my father first taught me to drive, 5 speed stick, if I remember correctly. Even though my feet could not reach the pedals of the car, my father used yellow phone books to help me, my brother "Rafita," as he would say, anxiously awaited his turn in the back seat of the parking lot of Paul Revere Middle School. I failed several times, my Datsun turned off and jerked often, my frustrated father tried to explain my mistakes repeatedly, I simply looked at his green eyes, and everything was good in my heart.

Many of you may recognize this sad song from the movie La Bamba, Sleepwalk by Santo & Johnny.  I confess that this is precisely what it feels like now, sleep walking with so much pain.  It was one of the movies that my father loved. He was a hopeless romantic all his life and boy did he love my mother, even til his last breath, and she loved him. Her "Maruquita" he would call her, and he danced with her, he kissed her with passion, and he would always longed for her meals.  Breakfasts or dinners, did not matter how exhausted she may be. It always seemed though that their love gave her enough energy and she ended up catering to his wishes. He was extraordinarily talented when it came to expressing his love for her. Sure, he was very influenced by the greats like Camilo Sesto, Julio Iglesias, Alci Acosta, the Bee Gees and well many more, but perhaps nobody like Leo Dan, and his favorite song, "Mary is my love." And it was true all his life, Maria was the love of life. Or when he felt more Americanized he would sing her, Lady, by Kenny Rogers or Woman by John Lennon to sweep her right off of her feet, the list of songs is frankly so long, you can't even imagine. My father was a romantic at heart, and my mother always looked into his green eyes, and everything was perfect in her heart.

My father adored my sister. She was his "Little girl." Needless to say, he gazed at her with such pure love it was indescribable.  I remember moments when she climbed on top of him and interviewed him like a reporter, while simultaneously looking for his wallet to see how many little bills he had. He only smiled and treated her like a princess, it was always her castle, the princess Orbelina Isabel, and she knew it.  She would look deeply into his green eyes, and if he was sleeping, she would open them with her small fingers, and everything was great in my sister's heart. 

My father loved his "Rafita, el chelito." The Military Navy Man he would say proudly, like a military uncle we had but never met.  My father would change his voice many times to focus on one point and make us all laugh. In many gestures, my father and brother were the same, and my brother had several similarities, his jokes, his talented whistling skills. I never quite learned, but my heart is content and happy to know that my brother can, so that one day, when I need and miss my old man, I can call my brother and ask him to whistle as my father once did. Every time my father would open his green eyes to stare blankly at us to make us laugh, my brother would imitate him, and everything was fine in my brother's heart.

My father adored his brothers and sisters. It was a different and unique relationship, but he always worried. I say it because he confessed it to me directly. From our Uncle Manuelito, Uncle Jaimito, Aunt Martí, Aunt Trini, but more so for our special needs Uncle Liquito, he carried many thoughts and concerns, his anguish was evident in his green eyes, because my father always showed his feelings in that way. Who will carry that great burden from now on, for my father must now rest his loving green eyes.

Understandably, his nephews, were a great part of his life. The biggest proof is that we were always all together, I would say every weekend it was not strange to see us together, having a good time, listening to the brothers and sisters laugh, enjoying moments that are no longer as frequently shared, but if I can speak honestly, I still miss those moments and will always miss them. From Ito Lima, Angelita, Cowabunga, Los Pisitos, El Nino Edson, Ricardinho, Bertha, Edgarin, Oscarito, Jaimito, Jan Carlitos, Mino, and well the list extends so long that we would spend the whole night here if I were to share everyone. As his son, I want to assure you that my father loved you very much, and I hope you always know that.

"La Wendita, and El Camilito," came later on in his life but the significant impact, I'm sure, they both take from my father.  I want to tell you both that he loved you, oh you have no idea how much he loved you and will always love you. Never forget his green eyes, his smile, his jokes and his stories.  His grandchildren, needless to say, with that gift alone, my father was extremely happy.  That man adored each grandchild more than his own children I would say, but how beautiful it feels inside to say that. There should never be any competitiveness in relationships, there is no competition in love, only pure innocence of loving unconditionally.

All his friends from all over the world, are a testament to who my father was.  I must say, the calls do not stop ringing on his cell phone, verifying the sad news, hoping that it is just not true. He gave everything, and asked for nothing, that was my father.

My favorite childhood memories were when my father would line us up every evening, in order from oldest to youngest. To start, he would check our teeth after we brushed, with his comments always ready to make us laugh. And then, we would hold hands and pray for everyone in our family.  My father always thought of everyone. We prayed and I looked at my brother and sister smiling because these were always the happiest moments of our lives. But I must confess that personally, the happiest moments of my childhood was when my mother would send me to him so that he may comb my hair.  He always gave me a Ritchie Valenz's hairstyle, you know, all the hair slicked back and in the middle of my head he used his fingers and stroked my head gently pulling out some hair.  In my mind, I was the most handsome boy in school on the days that he combed my hair. My father smiled at me and I would look directly into his eyes, those wonderful green eyes that I will never forget, because in those moments I knew, that all was right in the world, in my world. I do not remember my exact age during many memories or the exact time - but what I have learned is that special moments in our lives cease to have time value, and only the sentimental value remains.

And well, that is what my father leaves at his tender age of 59 years, an insurmountable sentimental value. His green eyes will never open again, and I will never listen to him for as long as I live, he was my father, the man I loved the most.  But now it's his turn to rest next to his brother, our dear Uncle Manuel, for the rest of the time on this earth, and in part that brings my heart some ease.  My father will not be alone, and my uncle, our grandparents, my father-in-law, I am certain, I have faith, are waiting for him next to God, so dad, I love you, and I know that one day, I will come running to you, as I did so many times before, so that you may once again, comb my hair and I just know, that I will feel like the most handsome man in heaven, while I look into your green eyes, smiling back at me once again, for all of eternity.