Think that nothing lasts

So much has happened and changed since the last time I wrote. My papi died on August 4th. Why does death still come as a shock. If there is one thing we can depend on coming is death. I know my papi was sick, well he was very sick. The last docor visit he was given morphine. If that did not clue anyone in on just how sick he was, well I guess you could say we were all in denial. I know at times I was I would go over to visit him and I would leave there thinking that he was looking better, maybe he was even getting better. I held my breath at every word that came out of his doctors mouth. I wanted everything to be o.k., knowing deep down it was not going to be o.k., knowing that my life as I knew it would never be o.k.

I had taken off August 3rd to the 17th off from work. A well deserved break. I wanted that time to myself to get my focus, and to rest and figure out my course. Monday the 3rd of August was a great day. Jen and I woke up and ot some things done around the house, we walked Lucy, went out to dinner and just relaxed the rest of the evening.The next morning the 4th, the day he died, I woke up really early. I came downstairs, did my yoga stretches, grabbed a cup of coffe and went outside to write in my journal. It was peaceful and nice to be up before a lot of people. It was about 4:30 am and I was just writing when a dragonfly started to buzz around my back yard. It would not leave. I began to think, why can I not sleep ? Why is this dragonfly buzzing around ? I got my focus and started to write. I wrote about my papi. I wrote why does he have to suffer. How can life be so cruel and allow rapists and murderers the ability to breath, yet my papi is suffering. The Sunday before he died I spent the moring and early afternoon with him. He was suffering so bad. His fingers turned blue and he could barely walk. I was scared for my papi. I wanted so much to take away his pain. I wished that he would not suffer, that he would die in peace. Yet I knew with his sickness he would not get better, that it would only get worse. How could life be so cruel ?

My papi had SEVERE scarring of the lungs. He and his doctors believed it to be caused by the work my papi did when he first came to this country. He was a farmworker and back in the day my father worked in the fields without protection, without knowing that pesticides were bad for your health. Working in the elemants was bad too. He did what he had to do. He had a family to support, and he wanted a better life for us. We got it but at the cost of my papi dying early.

That is what made the news so hard. My papi did what he had to do day in and day out. He worked hard and the only thing that he asked of us is that we needed to work hard in school. We did, and I feel my papi had a sense if pride in knowing that we all got an education. I struggled with his illness, after I saw the x-rays. His lungs were filled with scars. It was awful, and yet my papi continued to find joys in everyday life. From the end of April until he died my papi was home, unless he had to go to the doctor. He was on oxygen, and took a handful of pills at all hours of the day. Yet I would go over and we would talk and laugh, and I never saw his pain, I just knew it was there. He was a strong man.

His strength, his will to live, and joyfulness all that did not matter,he died on August 4th.

After I came inside from writing I went back upstairs to sleep a bit more about a half hour later I got a phone call from my mom she is crying and screaming and saying over and over your papi has died, He is dead. he is dead, he has died. Your papi is gone. I threw the phone yelled out to Jen that my papi was dead and I was in shock. I went threw the motions of getting clothes on and got to my mom’s. I walked in and there was my papi, dead. he looked so peaceful, yet I did not want him to be dead. He was cold, and he looked like he was sleeping only he was not sleeping he was dead and I knew that would be the last time I would get to hold him or be with him. I held him, and I wanted him to wake up.

I would not have been mad if someone anyone would have told me this was all a joke. It wasn’t a joke it was my reality, and I could not bare the thought of my world changing, my life shifting and me going through life having to transition into being an adult without a father.

The days that followed were like a blur. I can not remember certain things. I remember calling friends up, but do not know what I said. I had trouble sleeping, and breathing, and it was very hard for me, and still is.

There is not a day that goes by that I do not stop to think about him. There is not a day that goes by that I do not cry because I miss him. I miss him so much. I miss talking to him the most. My papi and I had great conversations, and I miss that. Yet there is a certainty that we all know and that is nothing last. So be good to people that are good to you. Tell people how you feel about them. If you love them tell them. There is no harm in showing people what they mean to you. People need that. It is a cruel world

Peace and love to all who enter here.