My Dad Always Said...

Grief. That’s all I’m feeling at this point in time. I’m trying to remember all the little details about my father. What his favorite songs were? How much he loved mom and us. Was he mad at me? For not being there all those years? Right after college, I interned for one of the biggest radio stations in my city. Which ultimately led me to traveling the world with my career. I’ve seen Europe, Africa, New Zealand, hell I’ve seen every single state in the United States. If only passports stamped for that sort of thing. My dad would always call me and ask how I was doing. He’d never ask me for money directly, but I always managed to wire him some funds. I remember he’d get so mad at me for sending him large amounts. I refused to have it returned to me at all cost. It’s the least I could do as a son. After everything I put my parents through. My addiction to heroin and alcohol caused most of my parents problems. I almost drove them to divorce at one point. But you can see why I’m so adamant about giving my parents money back. Somewhere along the lines I owed them. I owed them a lot. I owed my entire life to them.

It’s 2010, I was in my dorm room smoking weed with one of my friends. We’d planned to party that night as we always did. It was college. College to me was all about making wild choices. Once in a lifetime mistakes. Except I made the mistake of doing heroin instead of cocaine. I had snorted so much that I overdosed. I awoke in an ambulance. An EMT checking my vitals said, “Welcome back to earth. We almost lost you there for a minute.”

I looked around the ambulance surrounded by the silent yet loud whirring of machines. I had an EKG monitoring my heartbeat. I was given a Narcan. Thank god for whoever invented that. I owe my life to that.

“Can you tell us your name?” One of the medics asked.

I told them. And I was also confused. One minute I was in a dorm room doing lines with my friends. Then the next moment I remembered seeing my great grandmother Mama Chuz and my great grandfather Papa Feliz. And my grandfathers were there. They’ve been dead for a long time. Since I was about 10 years old. I thought I was dreaming when I saw them. But I realized now that I was closer to death than I was sleeping.

“Is there anyone we can call? You’re going to be admitted to the suicide watch unit at the hospital.”

“What? I didn’t do this to myself on purpose. I was with some friends and next thing I know I’m here.” I responded. I was so thirsty. They gave me a bottle of water so I could wet my lips. They were drier than the Sahara Desert.

“I’m sorry to say but we received a phone call that you weren’t breathing and when we arrived in there was nobody there. We have to submit you to the suicide unit as a precaution. Do you have anyone you can call?” The EMT asked again. I was scared out of my mind. But I knew that I had to reach my parents.

I remember that was the first night I witnessed my dad cry. He cried harder than I had ever seen him cry. Now I’m crying just as hard as he was because I know he’s gone. After that night I was admitted to a rehab facility where I focused on straightening up my life. THAT is why I was always so forceful whenever I would send my parents money. I used to steal jewelry, old cell phones, electronics, help I even stole money directly from their bank accounts. Secretly I think they always knew but didn’t know want to face the reality that their only son was a drug addict and a drunk.

See, my parents are from Central and South America. They are the epitome of the American Dream. They became citizens. Went to college. Got married and led long lives in with careers they both enjoyed. It was hard for them to see their son with destructive tendencies. They never so much as touched a cigarette.

I smoke a pack of cigarettes every day. My dad used to tell me “Hijo, those are gonna kill you before they kill me” and I’d shrug it off. I wish they’d gotten to me before they’d gotten to him.

I managed to fly back to my parents house the day we buried my father. I promised my mother I would stay with her permanently. Or at least until, you know, it was her time to go. I lived with my mother for a week. And then she passed away. She took my fathers death really hard and couldn’t imagine living a life without him. This was hard for me. I lost both of my parents within 10 days of each other. I don’t wish that feeling upon anyone else.

Thankfully, I’ve been clean for 10 years and managed my money real well. But even with great money management skills, two funerals and the cost of everything in between I ran out of all the money I’d worked so hard to put to the side. I was responsible for cleaning out my parents house. I had to move things out and sell the home I grew up in. I couldn’t afford it.

On the last day of cleaning out my parents house, I started gathering my parents things. I came across a bunch of junk mostly. But I found this little black book that my dad had kept in his safe. And inside this little black book is as a letter written out to me with a USB drive carved in the remaining pages.

My dad left me a hand written will, separate from what the banks and the rest of the family received. In this will, my father told me he had paid off the house in its entirety so that I may live in it with my family some day. I couldn’t believe it. He did all this while he was alive and dealing with what I was putting him through. And at the end of the letter my father wrote “hoy día por me, y mañana por ti” which translates to “today for me. And tomorrow for you.”

He had saved every single cent that I wired him over the years. And he opened a bank account that compounded the numbers annually. I was looking at the large sum of $200,000.00.

I cried in relief. My father didn’t need the money all these years. He had be saving it. Saving it for me.

My phone rang. I couldn’t expect a reason for a call right now but my fiancé calls to tell me she’s worried about the bills and she has some news for me. I’m about to become a dad myself.

I cried. I cried the grief from my parents. And all the happiness in the world I felt that I was about to become a father. And like my dad always said.

“Hoy día por me, y mañana por ti.”