Remembering The Most Important Thing in Life.

After living what feels like perpetual Ground Hog Day due to the pandemic, it was time for a vacation.  A week before the pandemic started becoming an issue in the US on March 2020, and all travel from Europe was locked down, Luisa and I were actually headed to Cancun with some dear friends.  

It was going to be the first vacation that Luisa and I had taken in about 10 years.  Over the years, we had taken days off here and there, such as Luisa accompanying me on business trips, or going to the beach for 3-4 days and of course there would be our annual trip to Florida to kiss off the old year and welcome the new year but none of these are what I would truly call a vacation.  

Right before the Cancun trip, I had just gotten back from Toronto on business and was really concerned that we would not be allowed back into the US so we decided not to go.  Prior to the lockdown though our primary focus was on taking care of my mom and dad especially in the latter years.  Luisa also flew down multiple times, most of the time alone, to spend the last precious moments with her brother and father before they passed.

After having lived through 18 months of painful loses and then roughly 18 months of a pandemic, we were ready to start a new chapter.  To be able to live again.

In early 2021, I started planning for a trip to Puerto Rico.  My initial goals were to do Ancestry Research, visit family and get to know Puerto Rico like I have not experienced it before.  My Ancestry research portion was going to be the first time I was armed with knowledge of the island like I had never had prior to any previous trip there.  When my parents started to have their health issues in 2010/2011, I started to research my family tree and got really into it.  I studied and learned a lot about our family history, took DNA tests and convinced many relatives to do the same.  Joined many groups on Facebook and got to learn a lot about the various parts of Puerto Rico that I was not really aware of.  

So the trip to Puerto Rico was to help discover what I did not know, continue to research my tree and ancestors and start a new chapter in this thing we call life.  A "re-discovery" trip of sorts.

As the trip got closer, I started to make arrangements.  Planning to visit cemeteries throughout the island,  spend time in the Ancestry research centers, and of course with the family eating wonderful meals that would remind us of my parents cooking. 

I was actually intending to surprise my family there by only telling a few select cousins so that I can plan specific things we were going to do, but you can imagine how that goes.  Keeping a secret over there is like, well there is no such thing.  I can imagine that they would each tell each other "it is a secret so don't say anything", as they went person by person telling each other "the secret".  When I was growing up and I did something I was not supposed to do, I was surprised as heck to learn when I got home that my mom already knew about it.  When I would ask her how she knew, her response was "Un pichoncito me lo dijo."  Well, in Puerto Rico they must be inundated with pichoncitos because the planning for this trip proved that there are no secrets with a family as large as mine.  Luisa actually commented "Note to self.  Puerto Rican's can't keep a secret."  

Early on, one of the highlights I planned was to go zip lining on the Monster at Toro Verde.  As I have gotten older, I have actually become more fearless.  Life is of course, for living.  But to insure that I did not chicken out and actually went through with it, I invited (OK, for those that know me, I intensely pressured) cousins from NJ, Boston and several on the Island to go with me.  Even my sister Evelyn joined us on that trip.  It was a condition for her going with us to PR, that she had to do everything we did, including the Monster.  For those that don't know what the Monster is, check out Jimmy Fallon and his journey.  In the end, we had a total of 9 of us take the leap.

It is something else to experience and all I could think about as I was hovering around 1200 feet in the sky above the trees, was how I had ancestors that had crossed those paths below and had most likely looked up in the sky.  Now here I was in the sky looking down at the footprints they left behind.   Thanks to my cousin Manuel and son Dan for the proof we went through with it here and here.

We then headed to Jayuya where my tribe lives.  To say I have family there is an understatement.  There can never be enough time there to truly appreciate the beauty of the mountains of Puerto Rico, the amazing, humble people and of course the incredible food that they prepared.  From a Pig Roast to a Sancocho to home made bread to bacalitos, to Arroz con gandules with a side of conejo.  I had my fill and gained 10 lbs over the 2 weeks there and I am sure the bulk was during that time.  It actually started before the Orocovis trip with gandiga, empanadas, alcapurias, garbanzo with chorizo, arroz and tembleque.  And that was only one dinner thanks to chef Aby!

There was so much family, including some cousins I had never met given that I had not been there in such a while, that we had to have 3 different "events" to be able to see everyone.  Luisa said to me that she had not seen me laugh this hard in years.  I agree.

We were there for 2 whole weeks and it would take a lot to describe everything we did as we traveled throughout Dorado, San Juan, Jayuya, Utuado, Isabela, Rincon, Cabo Rojo, and Cayey.  With 4 AirBnBs, a hotel stay and of course several days at my uncle's house in the mountains, it was an incredibly memorable trip. One that I will never forget and only makes me want to go back as soon as possible.  I felt my parent's presence there.  We all did.

Once, when our boys were younger we took them to Puerto Rico.  They ran around throwing coffee beans at each other.  Coffee was something that my family grew in those mountains of Jayuya.   Coffee that my uncles would pick, and my aunts would actually roast in the largest cast iron pot over a wood fire.  My uncle once yelled at them and said, "Hey, stop throwing those beans.  That's money!".

This time, during my visit one of my cousins told me that he grows coffee.  That my uncles and cousins actually pick the coffee and my family sells it to Hacienda San Pedro who produces it and commercializes it.

On the last day of our trip, on our way to the airport, I actually went by the Hacienda San Pedro and picked up some of that coffee.  

Today, on Thanksgiving, roughly 25 days from my healing trip, I thank God as I started my day drinking some of the coffee grown and picked by my family.  I am thankful for all of my family, here and in Puerto Rico and for being reminded what truly is the most important thing in my life.  My family.

An incredible family that helped heal the wounds of isolation and pain that Luisa, Evelyn and I had, which had not fully healed until now.  A cathartic trip indeed.

Note: While I did get to visit some incredible places, to fulfill my ancestral search, I never did get to the research centers, walk the cemeteries or meet up with the dozens of DNA cousins I originally intended to visit.  I guess I have to go back soon to finish my trip.  Luisa - pack your bags.

A special shoutout to Manuel and Shirley, Grenda and Benny, and Dan and Jill for joining Luisa and I on this trip.  For Mael, Melvin, Glenda, and Junior for helping me with the plans and to all of the others that helped make this trip better than I could have ever imagined.

Indelible Footprints - by Martha Fernandez

This is a translation of a Spanish poem by Martha Fernandez written twenty years ago during the terrorist attack on 9/11.  The original version can be viewed here.  

As New York City began to wake, its people arriving early and ready to work, they would never think that they would lose their spouses, children, and homes that day.

It would be, the final goodbye, the early departures, the breakfast, the bed, the cell phone, the car, everything would be immobile on that fatal day.

The innocent reviewing their daily tasks, greeting their companions as they came, little sips of coffee hurried in between the computer strokes, without knowing that their lives would end that day.

As the clock marked the fatal hour that would leave behind traces of destruction, one that would take the lives of so many, robbing families of brothers, parents, children with no illusion of what occurred.

The first explosion of the terrorist driven plane, for all the bystanders outside to feel the horror, death and pain. Screams, moans, filled that huge building, some focused on helping while others communicated through their cell phones with those relatives who were far away.

Only minutes before another plane would implode into the second building, the elevators failing, the suffocation overwhelming the people’s senses, making it difficult to navigate the twisted steel to reach the goal of their escape. While terrified others ran down the stairs, running over whoever their footsteps met.

The few who fled, while some carried strangers on their shoulders, through the exits full of debris that would soon become.

The flames that appeared, engulfing a place reminiscent of hell, with sirens glaring of the first that would come down, cascades of black smoke, glass, shattered walls and steel, forcing women and men who lacked hope and full of despair driven to commit suicide in the madness that appeared.

The rush of doctors and nurses, the sirens of the firefighters, the police, and the press, wanting to help all. Even though everyone gave everything they could, they were overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

And so it was, that one could only find the corpses left behind amongst the mutilated remains of others in this sinister place. Heavy equipment brought in together, with big trucks to begin the task of endless months, of the many workers drenched in sweat, to uncover the answer to this dark affair.

The rescue dogs brought in from different places, beautiful animals trained to sniff, would look in the rubble for trapped people until their paws bled and burned, but that would not prevent them from continuing their mission of finding the solution to the problem at hand.

The rest burned to ashes leaving no trace, marching to the stars that will be forever inhabited. Leaving only memories due to their sudden departure taking with them the smiles of those that remained.

Imborrables Huellas - por Martha Fernandez

La ciudad de Nueva York empezaba despertar, y sus hijos al llegar listo para trabajar, nunca pudieron pensar que ese día perderían, hijos, esposos y hogar.

Era aquel, adiós final, tus despedidas tempranas, su desayuno, su cama, su celular, su automóvil, todo quedarían inmoble en aquel día fatal.

Inocentes repasaban las tareas de aquel día, sus compañeros venían entre ellos se saludaban, un cafecito apuraba entre las computadoras sin saber que en esa hora sus vidas terminarías.

Al fin el reloj marco, aquella ora fatal que llevaría huellas de la destrucción. Que le arranco de un tirón en la vida de tantos humanos dejándolos sin hermanos, padres, hijos sin ilusión.

Y la primera explosión de aquel avión terrorista, dejaba para la vista del grupo que estaba afuera, una centelleante esfera de horror, de dolor y muerte. Gritos, quejidos, llenaba aquel enorme edificio, otros con un sano juicio, a unos pocos se ayudaban, otros se comunicaban mediante sus celulares con aquellos familiares que muy lejos se encontraban.

Solo pasaron minutos ante que el segundo avión proporcionara otra explosión en el segundo edificio. El elevador no estaba funcionando en esa hora, y la asfixia abrumadora lo dejaba sin sentido, entre yerros retorcido, pretendía avanzar más déficit alcanzar la misión que ellos tenían.

Los otros despavorido corrían por las escaleras, atropellando al cual quiera que a sus pasos se encontraran.

Unos pocos que apiadados por la suerte que corrían, a otros ayudarían llevándolos en sus hombros, por las salidas que escombros muy pronto se tornaría.

Las llamas que ahí salían se podían igualar a ese lugar sin pal, al que llamamos infierno. Mientras se venía abajo el otro que fue el primero, con cascadas de humo negro, cristales, llamas, paredes, avía allí mujeres y hombres que se suicidaban. Y que al vacío saltaba en arranque de locura.

El rescate de su grupo de médicos y enfermeras, los bomberos, la sirena, la policía, la prensa.

Todos querían en recompensa ayuda prestar a todos más, aunque todos luchaban por esas vidas salvar, no podía penetrar por la intensidad de todos.

Y fue así, que de ese modo solo podían encontrar cadáveres que, al pasar, y otros que mutilados se quedaban sepultados en el siniestro lugar. Equipo pesado llega juntos a los grandes camiones, para empezar las labores de meses interminables, y con ese gesto amable de tantos trabajadores que empapados en sudores siguen buscando la meta de encontrar una respuesta a esto negros sin sabores.

Los perros también llegaban de los distintos lugares, eran bellos animales entrenados a olfatear, buscaban en los escombros las personas atrapadas, sus patitas le sangraban y quemaduras tenían, pero eso no impedirían continuar con la misión de encontrar la solución al problema que existía.

Lo demás carbonizados no dejarían ni huellas, marcharon do las estrellas por siempre han habitado. Solo recuerdos dejaron al partir así de prisa, llevándose así la riza de todos lo que quedaban.

My Birthday Buddy

I thought about calling this post, Angela's baby boy.  I have written previously in my blog about how I was born on my mom's birthday and after my mom passed away, it has been hard to be happy when I was of course, Angela's baby boy and she was my birthday buddy.  I have no problems admitting that.

Yes, today is August 25th, and once again, I woke up on my birthday with the memories of my mom and I sharing our birthday together over all of these years.  Especially with all of the Facebook and Google photo memories of this day and the tons of comments from people overwhelming my feed.    

Truth be told, it feels like just another birthday, especially on a work day full of conference calls and business as usual.  However, leading up to this day the sentimental nature of my shared birthday with my mom builds up over the weeks, without the culmination of our joint ice-cream cake, which is what we would always have on this day.   I have not had Carvel ice-cream cake on my birthday since mom passed.  Now celebrating my 3rd birthday without her.

Ice cream was my mom's favorite.  Vanilla, of course.  

Every time we went out to get some, as I was standing in line with her, I would ask her what flavor she wanted, knowing her obvious answer ahead of time.  

Me, being the stubborn, ok if you ask Luisa, "the controlling" person I am, would tell her that she had to live a little.  So I would get her a different flavor be it Coconut, Mint Chocolate Chip, Banana...  Put a little spice in it lady!  After all, there are more than 31 flavors of this heavenly stuff.  

She would devour that ice cream, as a professional ice cream eater would generally do.  Then when asked if she liked it, her answer was a glowing, "oh yes!  It was delicious!"

The next time out, what flavor?  "Vanilla.  You know that is my favorite."  And the cycle would repeat itself.

She said that when she was carrying me, all she could eat was ice cream.  She would get sick with anything else.  Which is why I am a huge fan and probably the reason for my high cholesterol! 😳

At first, I was unique in sharing a birthday with my mom.  Over time, I came to know others that were similarly blessed with their shared birthdays with their respective moms, or as siblings like my nephews or even in the case of our son Nick, with his much loved and profoundly missed Uncle Mickey.  Who was born on the best day of the year, according to the way they both used to tell it.

I wrote in another blog, how our family has been graced with the celebration of a new birth, in a day full of sorrow and pain, like that of the 2nd anniversary of my brother-in-law Miguel's passing, when his 3rd grandson Beckam Miguel was born.  How Beckam's birth gave us something to look forward to on that day.  The entire family firmly believes Miguel had a hand in that specific arrival to let us know that he wanted us to be happy.

Today, it is my turn to celebrate not only my birthday, but the arrival of my new birthday buddy and great nephew, Kaden Drey.  My niece Angela's baby boy!  Again, both divine and heavenly intervention from my own mom to ensure that my future birthdays would be a day of celebration of a shared birthday.   I will always share my mom's birthday but now have a birthday companion to have ice cream with.

About 9 months or so ago, Angela called Luisa and I to tell me that she was pregnant and that her due date, was, get this, August 25th.  For these past months we have been waiting the arrival of Angela's baby boy and wondering if indeed, can it be, that he will be born on my birthday. 

Last week, on the 18th of August, Angela had a visit with her doctor to discuss the logistics of Kaden's arrival, whether they would need to induce her if Kaden decided to procrastinate and to schedule her hospital admittance so they can induce her the next day. She would be admitted one day and Kaden would be born the next day.

The nurse came into the room and told the doctor that both Sunday the 22nd to Monday the 23rd, or Monday the 23rd to Tuesday the 24th were available. The nurse then scheduled her for Monday/Tuesday. 

The doctor said wait a second the other doctor that would be delivering if she was not available was not on call.  The doctor also said that she had an in office surgery to do on Tuesday.  So she told the nurse to change it to the next date which which would be to be admitted on the 24th with Angela being induced on Wednesday the 25th.  Today.

Angela began to cry and the doctor asked if there was a problem with that date? Angela told her it’s a very special day that it was her Grandmother's birthday (uhm.. mine too by the way) and that her Grandmother had died two years ago. 

The Doctor said well then it is on Wednesday when Kaden will be born.  At exactly 8:21AM on August 25th, Kaden Drey Burton came to this world.  To celebrate every 25th of August eating ice cream with his Uncle Ralph. 

I firmly believe that this was my mom Angela, pulling the levers and making sure that I once again had a birthday buddy to share my birthday with.  Thank you Mom.

I promised Angela that if Kaden was born on my birthday I would buy the ice cream every year. But if he was born any other day it would be on him. 

Well, Kaden, I will hold up my bargain as my new birthday buddy.  Of course, it will have to be Vanilla in honor of your great grandmother Angela.

Happy Birthday Kaden and of course, Happy Heavenly Birthday Mom.  I miss you dearly but thank you for giving me a reason to enjoy having ice cream on my birthday again.

Hook, Line and Sinker

There is a famous quote, believed to be a Chinese proverb that says: Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.

When I was about 10 years old, my uncle Tito took me fishing for the first time. I did not even have a fishing pole and when I told him that he said don't worry about it. We'll figure it out.

We get to this reservoir that was the primary fresh water source for the county. Fishing was actually prohibited in this fresh water lake, but that is another story. We pull up to the edge of the lake and get out of the car. My uncle with his tackle box and gear and several of the longest and coolest fishing poles I had seen. It was clear he was going for the big stuff.

He proceeds to grab a fairly descent size branch from one of the trees at the edge of the lake and ties some fishing line to it and adds a hook. He tells me to sit under the bridge and to be quiet but just drop the line in the water. That evening, I caught 14 sunnies or brim, Lafayette's as they were known in that area, and a good sized catfish! I was in fish heaven and that day changed my life.

As I got older I would come home from school, drop my books and head down to the local pier to fish with all of my friends. There were times that we would have about 8 of us all lined up fishing, crabbing and selling the eels we would catch to people that wanted them. It became my past time but was, and has always been, my retreat. My chance to escape the challenges and pains of the teenage years.

Even today as an adult, I love to spend time with a pole in my hand, taking in the fresh air and trying to catch the big one that seems to always get away with my bait.

With the tons of fish I have caught over the years, there are some special memories that I have, such as fishing with my friends, or more recently when I went deep sea fishing with Dan, Nick and Dan's friends for his bachelor party. We were on fire that day and caught an amazing amount of fish. Though this trip was a couple of years ago, everyone to this day still talks about that time and that we should do it again.

However the one that made the most impact in my life was that of my uncle taking me fishing for the first time. It was a bonding time that he shared with me, not because he had to, but because he wanted to. He was showing me that I was so important to him that he would share with me what he loved to do most.

His simple act showed me that life was for living and for a purpose. At a time when most adults did not care to do anything with the younger generation, it was important to set an example and become a positive role model in a young life. Mine.

In Matthew 4:19, Jesus said to Simon (Peter) and his brother Andrew “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.”

Obviously, it is not the literal sense of fishing but to follow Jesus and be an example for others to follow.

At times, it seams with the craziness of the moments we are living, we cannot be bothered to do the simple things in life like teach a young child to go fishing.  To step away from the TV and other electronics and be one with nature.  

I have fished with friends, my boys, my nephews and most recently with my 3 year old grand nephew Liam.  With such an amazing lake in the back of his house, he had never gone fishing.  

Every time I visit my Florida family, I fish on that lake.  I usually go in the afternoon and evenings but have found myself even going fishing before I start my day.  Trying to catch the big bass, which are definitely out there, but mostly to catch my breath and be at peace before I start my day. 

During one of those evenings, Liam was inside the house and said "Is that my Tio out there?" and then preceded to walk down to the dock where I was fishing.  I asked him if he wanted to fish and he said yes.  I asked him to sit down in a chair, primarily because I did not want him to fall in the lake, but also so I did not hook him myself during my casts, and then handed him a pole.  I put some bread on it and told him we were going to catch a big fish.

I told him when he caught it, to yell Tio and that I would run and reel it in.  Of course, being the busy body he is, he reeled it in a couple of times himself and would also squirm off the chair.  But I placed him back and told him he had to be quiet and just look at the float.    He was distracted looking at the other side of the lake when I saw his float go under water.  I said "Liam, you have a fish!".  He got excited and tried to real it in but I grabbed the pole and reeled the fish as I did not want it to get away.

Once I did, he screamed like I had caught the Loch Ness monster and it was going to eat him up!

We managed to calm him down and pose for a picture with his first catch! 

This brought back the memories of my uncle helping me catch my first catch.  Life came full circle and I could not be happier.  Though it did bother me that the fish Liam caught was bigger than the fish I have caught all month on that lake.  I'm still chasing the big ones.

As I have gotten older, I think more about my words and my actions.  I genuinely try to do the right thing and be an example for others to follow.  Most of the times, I get it right.

This is one of those times and I hope that Liam grows up to appreciate and understand how impactful this simple moment could actually become.   I love you Muchacho.

A special thank you to my own Tio for setting the example for me to follow.

Algo es Algo!

I was recently reminded about a phrase that my mom used to say all the time.  "Algo is Algo" which translates to "something is something" but really what she meant was, "at least it is something".

Mom used to work for K-Mart, but started really late in her life to work outside the house.  

I've written previously about how she practically raised the town I grew up in by babysitting numerous kids while simultaneously raising the 4 of us.  Those days were long and non-stop, every week, no vacation and no real escape.  So when I say she started to work really late in life, that is really a disservice to all of the long hours she put in babysitting.  That was really hard work and it is very wrong to say otherwise. 

We grew up in an apartment in a brownstone building that must have been 100 years old.  Needless to say, there was no air conditioning and a single heater in the family room heating up the entire apartment.

So when mom started to work at K-Mart, at around the age of 50, it was a BIG THING in our family.  I remember her calling me telling me that she wanted to get a job.  Something that my father was very much against but she got her way.  She told me that she was offered this job there and that she knew she could do it.  Here hours would start later in the evening but she wanted to save for her casita, if she were to ever to move down here as she wanted and we begged.

She worked from about '94 or so until she retired and moved to SC in 2005.  There were times, when I would visit NJ, that we knew she was working, and we would sneak up to the area she worked, and would just watch her, as she picked up all of the clothes that people would take off the racks and shelves and restock them for the next person to do the same.

It was something to see, as she greeted store shoppers with her warm, welcoming smile, while at the same time, shake her head as she picked up the stuff thrown around.

  

She turned 63 in 2005 when she retired and months after, they moved into their first house.  I was so proud of them.

After retirement, she started to collect a pension check that supplemented her social security.  A whopping $25 a month for the 10+ years of service to the Big K!

Every month, she got that check for a job well done.  And every month, we would make fun about it.  When we opened the statement in the mail, I would say Mom, you got another deposit of your big pension.   Dad would immediately laugh at the comment and say, "Hah, that won't even cover the phone bill!" to which Mom would respond, "bueno, algo es algo" and we would all laugh.   

The running joke was that if Mom had asked me to do something, I would do it but at the end would say that we would send her a bill.  One the she could pay with per pension check! 

At times, her answer was a "Sure. What do you think, that I don't have money?".  At other times, her reply was a disillusioned, "Bendito, you know I only get $25 for my pension".  

Even though it was only $25, the fact that she got that check regularly, made her feel like she could buy anything.  

Mom always looked at the bright side of things and truly was the eternal optimist.  I miss that and the jokes about her monthly deposit. 

The All Too Familiar Sounds of Shuffling Feet

I was reading the latest news on my phone in the lobby while waiting for Luisa, when I heard the voices of a son talking to his mom and his mom responding to him faintly as they walked into the building.  As they walked past me, I looked up and took a glance at the 40 something year old holding his mother tightly in his arms with a large shoulder bag in tow, and his mother who apparently was born in 1935, walked with him staring straight ahead.  He was assuring her that "he got her" and that they were almost where they needed to go.

I looked back down and tried to stare at my phone as my eyes started to swell up and the first tear began to roll down my face.  It was all too familiar for me.  

As the son with his mom approached the counter, the lady at the registration desk asked him what seemed to be the problem and if they needed to be checked.  He proceeded to tell her that he noticed something about her left eye and wanted someone to take a look at it.  She asked them to sit in the chair while she called over a nurse to take a look at it.

The son removed the bag from his shoulder and placed it on one of the two chairs in front of the desk.  Then he positioned himself behind his mom and grabbed her from her waist and tried to gently position her in front of the other chair.  At this point the mother grabs onto the desk, locks her back and legs, refusing to sit down for fear of falling down.  As her son continues to reassure his mother with "I got you mom. I got you.", "I won't let you fall.  You can let go.".

I look up while all of this is happening and immediately remember the many times that I took my mom to a doctor's office or even trying to get her to sit in her own chair at the dining room table so we can feed her.  By now, I am balling as all of the flash backs hit me pretty hard.  My voice playing back in my mind, trying to sooth my mom, her grip of death on whatever she was latching onto at the time.  

The lady at the registration desk called over a nurse and had her look at the mother and telling the son that it was good for him to bring her.  It appears that she may have had a stroke a few days earlier and her eye was droopy.  The nurse asked him when he had first noticed it to which he responded that he just noticed it when he saw her today, but apparently it has been like this for a couple of days.  When he went to visit her today, he noticed her eye and asked his dad what had happened to his mom.  His dad said that she just started to look like that a couple of days ago.  The son then proceeded to tell the nurse that he had specifically spoken with his dad a couple of days earlier and had asked how his mother was.  The father had responded that something appeared to be wrong with her eye but that she was ok and that they were waiting for a call back from the doctor.  It turned out that it was the dentist that was calling back that day and not the doctor.

The nurse indicated that only within the first 3 hours at most, could it really be determined if someone was having a stroke but that they would take a look at her shortly.

The son got up, tried to lift the mother from the chair only to meet resistance again from the mother who would not stand up, afraid to fall down.  She eventually stood, with the son's repeated voice trying to comfort her that he had her.  

As they walked halfway across the room to an empty bench where they could sit next to each other, the mother's feet shuffling across the floor as he walked her ever so gently.  He sits her in the chair and then tells her that he is just going outside for a minute to get on a call.

Again another reminder of the times I had to juggle conference calls in between doctor visits, taking the moments I could to try to keep the ball going at work while still trying to do what I could, to be there for my parents.

The tears flowed unconditionally and I felt like I was breathing into a bag because of the mask I was wearing.

After a few minutes, I got up and walked across the room to look out the window and see if I could catch a glimpse of where the son was.

As I saw him get out of his car and start to walk back to the medical center, I walked out the door so I can meet up with him.  I know I caught him off guard when I stopped right where he was and started to talk with him.

I told him that I had lost my mom just about 2 years ago and that I too understood and respected what he was going through. I told him that mom battled Alzheimer's for 12 years and that I just felt that I had to tell him how I wished him all the best, that God Bless him and his mother.  That he reminded me of myself and what we went through and that he was doing the "right" thing.  After all, we only have one mother. 

His response, a simple "Thank you Sir" and in he went to be by his mother's side.  I walked back in and sat in my chair waiting for Luisa.  When another nurse opens the back door and calls the name of the mother, "Johnny Mae"...

The son and mother stand up and start the long, slow walk, to the front of the room.  The nurse starts moving faster to meet them half way and ask if she would like a wheelchair.  The mother responds with a quick no.  She says that she can walk. 

They walked back into the medical office so they can be seen.

Next month will be the 2nd anniversary of mom's passing from her 12 year battle with Alzheimer's.  It's moments like this that remind me of the gut wrenching memories of feeling helpless to really cure what ailed my parents, especially my mom but to do all that I could at that particular time.

While I don't wish for mom to have spent any second longer in this life having to deal with what she was struggling through, I do sort of miss those moments of holding her tightly and reassuring her that "I had her".  

I miss you mom.

You Have 2 Dads?

Luisa and I have been catching up on our DVR recordings of "This Is Us" recently.  It was a show we used to watch religiously with an amazing script, great acting and themes that manage to pull the strings of all of our emotions.  

Our viewing of that show came to a screeching halt in 2018 when we began to experience the severe emotional pain of our own loses in our family and we could not bear to add salt to those very painful wounds.  We had something like 24 episodes that continued to record and last night, on March 11th, we caught up with the episode where they were trying to deal with the recent diagnosis of their mother's Alzheimer's diagnosis. 

In the episode, Randall, is dealing with the pain of the loss of his 2 fathers (biological and adopted), not knowing his biological mother, and now having to deal with losing his adopted mother to this horrible disease.

He makes the statement of his two fathers, and immediately I mention to Luisa that it reminded me of an incident that occurred with our youngest son Nick when he was about 5 years old. 

Nick has always been the very positive going person that always sees the glass half full in everything.  "Nick, how did you do in your test today?" we would ask.  To which we would get a thumbs up and a response of "Great!".  Only later for us to come to the realization that he had actually bombed it... but hey, always the eternal optimist.

He had a kid in class that told him that he had 2 dads.  His biological dad and his step dad because his mother had recently re-married.  Nick thought that was so amazing that he told his friend, "You have 2 Dads?", "That is AWESOME!".  

It left quite an impression on the kid that he told his mother and his mother let us know that same day  how wonderful and receptive Nick was to this fact and that it meant a lot to them how cool Nick's reaction was.

I then thought of my own two dads.  My father, Rafa, who would have turned 84 on February 23rd of this year and who I lost in April 2018, and my father in law, Miguel, who passed away on March 11, 2019 and has a birthday coming up shortly.  Having woken up on the 11th full of emotions and Facebook reminders of his passing, only to be reminded further of this loss when watching this episode.

Both of them impacted me in so many ways that I would not be the father I am today without them in my life.

To learn from Nick's eternal optimism of having a glass half full, I try not to be depressed about losing both of my dads during this time and thought about how great they were.  About how much I appreciated the fact that I had two amazing father figures that I will be eternally grateful to have and for the constant reminders of who they were, how much they were loved and how much they both loved me.

I miss them both dearly along with all of the laughter's we shared. 

Next month, on April 2nd, will be the painful reminder of coming home from FL and not seeing my dad alive one last time or holding his hand as he departed this earth.  The following month will be the reminder of my mom joining him after her more than 12 year battle with Alzheimer's.

Finally, in the episode, Randall is struggling with his mother's Alzheimer's diagnosis and how he needs to do everything possible to not lose her like he lost everyone else.  It was a painful reminder of my attempt to want to take mom to an Alzheimer's specialist 3 hours away to get her into a clinical trial.  I could not bare the thought of not doing everything I could for my mother to prevent the desease that would ultimately take her life.  I remember clearly the day that I left her house, after having driven back from Charleston and concluding, on my way to my own house, that it was not something we could put mom through.  

The torture of putting her through 3.5 hour trips each way, to a clinic where she would undergo the additional stress of having to answer questions such as who is the president, what day is it, what is your birthday... 2 x per week, and then to be exposed to untested medicine that could give her serious side-effects, or maybe worse yet, the hope given by what could in the end be just a placebo that would not have cured her, was just unimaginable for me.  I could not do that to her.  

Randall has not come to this conclusion yet, but that was the day I concluded I was losing my mom and I was powerless to do anything about it.  One of the most painful days I have ever experienced and to some extent, even more so than when she actually passed away.

In this one episode, Luisa and I saw and replayed in our minds, everything that we had recently experienced in our lives.  It was a definitely case of Life imitating Art and Art imitating Life.

The Morning Sun

Having camped overnight many times over the years with my Eagle Scout sons, there is something heartwarming about waking up and seeing the sun come up, to warm the earth and your soul after a very cold, dark night.  Waking up to the prospect of a new beginning, no matter what the night before has bestowed on you, the chills of the cold air, the strange sounds of the howling winds and exposed outdoors, the dark shadows that make you paranoid and seeing things.

In the past when our country was in crisis, such as the 9/11 attacks, the Oklahoma and Atlanta Olympic bombings, the Emanuel AME church shooting and most recently when we saw our own citizens assault the Capitol building with the sole intent of silencing the voice of the many for the idealistic rights of the few, we have always expected and relied on our leaders to rise up to the occasion and lead us out of the darkness.  Even if it is a darkness that we, Americans, have ourselves created or made worse by the absolutely disastrous way we have behaved during this pandemic.

As I write this post, to lose more than 400,000 of our grandparents, parents, siblings, children, family members, all of them citizens and/or members of this incredible nation and not have leaders show empathy and unity that has inspired us to come together in the past and do what is right for one another is a national disgrace.  To not be able to rely upon our elected leaders to amass the full power of our Federal Government, and guide us out of this never-ending darkness has been painful to experience and a crying shame.

Tonight, as I watched and cried during the memorial tribute lead by the upcoming administration, I was not thinking about how many of the white lights representing the 400,000 lives were republican or democrat but how we were all one and the same.  The same members of this invincible nation that had suffered during past trauma and how for the first time in over 4 years, we will have the unified empathy of a nation, to come together and have hope that tomorrow, with the Morning Sun, we will be able to see the light that will take us out of this darkness we have been living through.

That the battle for the soul of our country has been won, by those that remember the dark days past and how we have been inspired to overcome the darkness of prior times.  That we can rise up to the occasion, turn the corner, and be the beacon of light that America has been in the past not just to ourselves, but to the world.

For as it is so appropriately stated in our Constitution: 

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, ensure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America. 

God Bless America.