A Father's Day Message

There is nothing more gratifying than just watching my son Dan, be a father to his daughter Audriana.  To see the look in their eyes, the tenderness with how he holds her, the rough way he tickles her and the shear joy in her eyes when I drop her off at home and he opens the door.  

What we are witnessing in real time is the genuine beginning of Audri's path towards becoming Daddy's girl.  Not to be overlooked, is the awe Luisa and I have at Dan's role of being a dad.  He was always kind and tender with kids, including with his brother Nick, though he did manage to push Nick's buttons one time a bit too far and get a well deserved clock in the head with a plastic hammer in return.

What is also incredible is the feeling I have of being able to witness this, as it helps remind me of what I felt as I went through that same evolution of becoming a dad.  I always wanted to be a dad.  I wanted to be able to share with my children my views of family values.  Growing up with sisters, I thought all along I was going to end up with daughters, though seriously wanting boys.  

My desire all along was to pave a path that they would follow.  To inspire them to do what is possible, to be strong in their moral character and conviction but to be kind, gentile and genuine to every person they meet. 

The memories I have of playing with the boys, in the same way that Dan plays with Audri makes me pause from my normal activities to reflect on those early days.  Even Nick, who has always said he is destined to be a "dog dad", has commented on how he remembers the amount of fun he had with me when he was much younger.  

Audri is only 15 months old at this point and too early to schedule her soccer, softball, dance, girl scout, karate, swim activities so at this point it is imagining having fake cafecito, imaginary meals with plastic hot dogs and hamburgers, singing and dancing to the wheels on the bus and We Don't Talk about Bruno.

But what she is already beginning to realize is that her dad will be her best friend and her first true love. 

To me, my sons as well as my wife of course, are my best friends.  The ones that know more of my secrets than anyone else.  The ones that have seen my struggles and my successes and have been there from the beginning to celebrate those successes and to help me get up when I fell down and needed the support.  The ones that have given me the reason to push harder and achieve goals that I did not think was possible but also the ones to keep me in check to ensure that the path I paved, was one they wanted to follow.

To Audri, Dan will be the perfect example of a man to which every boyfriend will be compared and measured against.  A high standard indeed.  

I believe in leaving a legacy and of all of the things I have done in my life, being a father to my sons is the greatest accomplishment I am most satisfied with.  A goal achieved.

When talking with Dan, I see the same evolution that is only reinforced by his words indicating that he did not think he would love someone as much as he loves his little girl.

Dan, on this, your 2nd but in reality, the first where you have had the chance to enjoy a full year of being a father, I wish you only many more years of this feeling, memories to be created, goals to be set and life to be lived as a father.

Mom and I are very proud of the father you are to your daughter.  But I am especially grateful of the father I became the moment you came into my life and for everything you do to keep me in check and support my goals.  Along with your brother and mother, you are my support system and I could not imagine doing anything more important than being a dad.  I am sure you feel the same.   Happy Father's Day son.

A Love Like You Have Never Experienced Before

Back in 1989, Luisa became pregnant with our first son, Dan.  We were ready to start our family.  It had been 4 years after we had exchanged our vows and we were anxious to begin writing the next chapter in our lives.  We had this great feeling inside that we would be great parents even if that sounds arrogant.  Of course, we had no real basis for this except that we saw the world and our role in it, the same way.  We felt we were very compatible with each other.  We shared the same views and priorities in our life.  

When Luisa was in her 4th month of pregnancy, I happened to be on a business trip in Puerto Rico.  I stayed a few days extra to visit my grandparents and relatives.  After several days there, pre-cellphone, even pre-house phones, Luisa was desperate to talk with me about a problem she was having with the pregnancy.  The doctors believed there was a problem with the baby and she was alone and I was not there to support her or be there with her or for her. 

I called home after a few days of her trying to get a hold of me and the gut punch to my stomach was immediate when I heard her voice and what was going on.  Not able to go to the house to call the airport/airline to change my flight, I ran back to my uncle's house, packed my bags and stopped by all my family's homes to say my quick goodbye and headed to the airport 2 hours away.  I prayed all of the way to the airport, asking for everything to be ok with our baby.  Anxious with tears running down my face, I actually don't remember the 2 hour trip down the mountains of Puerto Rico.  I got there as quick as I could and was able to get the next flight home.  

Fast forward 5 months, knowing that we were having a boy by then due to the scare we had, we could not wait to meet our precious Dan.  Still wondering if everything was going to be ok, we knew Luisa was going to have a C-Section due to Dan being breech, we woke up the day that he was scheduled to arrive and went to the hospital on the morning.  It had snowed outside the night before so at 5AM, we began our long, roughly 45 minute drive in our Ford Tempo to the hospital.  There was nobody on the road.  Dark due to the November day, but bright because of the white, snow covered road and the orange lights all along the highway.

I pulled up to the hospital main doors, got out, ran around the car and opened the door to make sure that Luisa did not fall out.  I grabbed the overnight back and walked her into the hospital. I ran out and parked the car in the nearby parking lot for temporary visitors.  Once back inside, I grabbed a wheelchair for Luisa and I pushed her to the area we were supposed to go, passed the doors to the other side where our lives would change.  Dan was born at roughly 8AM and all we could think about was how perfect he was and that the scare of what could be wrong with him was all for naught.  Just perfect.

A long 32 years have passed and the memories that we have created with both of our boys are just incredible.  The birthdays we have celebrated, the trips we have taken, the highs we have experienced and even the lows we have struggled through are precious memories that began that winter, snowy day.

Today, March 11th 2022, we re-lived that day through the eyes of our son Dan and daughter-in-law Jill as they took the same journey on the way to the birth of their daughter, our first grandchild, Audriana.  We got the text the night before from Dan and it started "Hey, so first off everything is ok... Jill is having contractions and the nurse recommended we come in."  

We did not sleep last night, wondering what they were going through, what they were thinking, as it brought us back to that trip down memory lane.  At 3:30 AM, I was texting Dan to see how things were going and then looked at my phone 15-30 minutes later.  Then again an hour later, and an hour later, and so on until 7AM when I finally got out of bed.  Luisa was up by 5AM and shared the message received by Dan at 5:38AM.  Audriana was coming and it would not be too long from now.

Our precious and beautiful granddaughter arrived at 9:26 to be exact.  Healthy, absolutely just perfect in every way, had made her grand entrance.  A true gift from God, about to start her life long journey with parents, grandparents, an aunt, an uncle and an extended family who have been waiting for her arrival to show her how much she is really loved. 

Looking retrospectively through the lens of what we have been through, we could not be more proud of Dan and Jill and how they have prepared for their lives to change but how ready they are to become the absolutely best parents to their new baby girl.  To experience the first touch, first kiss, first embrace and the many other firsts that will come as a result of graduating from being just a couple to a family.

Dan and Jill, you will never love anything or anyone as you will love your children.  That Love is nothing that you have experienced before and we could not be more proud to see the steps you will take with your precious daughter on this journey.  We thank you for giving mom and I our first grandchild and the first girl in our immediate family.

 

     To Audriana - Lelo and Lela Love you so much and can't wait to meet you and spoil you.

La Casita

I have written previously about how important it was for Mom to have her own house.   From as far back as I could remember, even before my teenage years, mom would sit by me on my bed and say, "Rafy, cuando tu crezca, tu me compra una casita?"  (Ralphy - when you grow older, would you buy me a house?)  I don't recall Mom ever ask for anything else.  I am sure there were lots of other things she wished for or wanted but she never let me know.

Mom was very simple.  She basically had two things on her bucket list.  Her home and her family.  She was happy with life because she had both.  

Mom grew up very poor, as my Dad told us, on dirt floors and surely had days where she would go to bed hungry.  She lived down the hill from Dad.  When I say down the hill, you could say at the bottom of the mountainside where Dad lived.  

Years ago, in the early '80s I had a chance to go to Jayuya with Luisa and I was able to see where it was that Mom lived when she was a child.  There was no real way to get to mom's house, unless it was climbing down the side of the mountain, from the main road where dad lived.  It easily took about 10 minutes on a steep incline.

When I went there, the house that mom lived in was gone.  The only thing standing was the remnants of a structure, such as 3-4 blocks, a bit of cement for the kitchen area, but everything else was gone.

There was this big tree, around the base of the property, that had a special seed that I had never seen before.  

I grabbed a bag full of those seeds, called Mato Rojo or by the official name: Canavalia nitida and to this day, still have the bag.  In the attached spanish link, it says that this is one of the most utilized items in the making of jewelry by artisans in Puerto Rico.

My cousins tell me that if you rub the seed against the concrete, they spark, generate a flame and heat.  They said that this is something they did with it when they were younger. 

Whenever I look at those seeds, I am reminded of the struggles that my mom and her family had and how far along she came, and us after that.  I love the symbolism of it.   From the base at the bottom of this steep hill, there is a tree that produces the hardest and strongest seeds.  I saw that strength in my mom.

When they retired and moved down to South Carolina Mom and Dad bought the first and only home they would ever own.  Prior to moving to SC, mom working at K-Mart, would buy things for her casita.  The one that she was going to get, when she retired.

They spent several amazing years in "la casita".  Every birthday & holiday would be celebrated at Mom's house.  Yes, it was Dad's as well, but to Mom, it was her dream house.  The one she always desired and deserved.

During her battle with her late stages of Alzheimer's, she would cry and say she wanted to go home.  Not realizing of course that she was home.

Dad passed away first and Mom followed him a little over a year later.  The house was transferred to my 3 sisters and I.

Mom wanted a large family.  Raised as the only female by her father and her 3 brothers, losing her mom at the age of 6, she wanted nothing but a big family.  She adored her children, grandchildren and even got to meet most of her great grandchildren.  Though by this time, she was so far on the losing side of her Alzheimer's battle that she could not tell the difference between her own descendent, a complete stranger's child or even the plastic doll she would cuddle in her arms.

Dad would have wanted us to sell the house to anybody at whatever price we could get for it.  Mom though, would have clearly wanted for her Casita to stay "within the family" if possible.  For a family member to start building a future of memories based on the foundation she had laid, or better yet, the seeds that she had planted.  

Today, just 2 weeks shy of when Mom and Dad bought their Casita back on Valentine's Day in 2006, exactly 16 years ago, we sold La Casita to Kayla.  One of Mom's grandchildren.   

We got to close another chapter in this book about Mom and Dad.  The last chapter of our responsibility to Mom and Dad to take care of their possessions.  It took longer than all of us would have imagined and we could have chosen the easy path but sometimes the more difficult path is the right thing to do.  

To Kayla - Congratulations on purchasing your first home.  It is even more memorable as you are the 2nd owner on a home that was originally owned by your grandparents.  They left Puerto Rico before anyone of us was born, with the hopes of making a better future for all of us.   You and that house are both a direct result of that hope.    

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.

Remembering "Rafa"

Exactly one year ago today, I received a call from my sister that something was wrong with dad. She was crying on the phone, telling me she was on her way to the house. That she had received a call from her son Tony, who had busted the back door to find my father, not breathing, sitting in the recliner, toothpick in one hand, remote control in the other, with the TV on full blast.

I’ve been thinking about this day, in light of all of the loss of family this year, how would I feel? What would I say? Would I still remember what happened that dreadful day? Would I still feel the incredible pain of guilt of not having closure. From not saying goodbye to him when I had the chance and seeing his smile one last time. 

The regrets are long gone and the tears have slowed down. But the desire to hear his voice, his laughter, smell the cooking as I walked into his house, and basically, just get back the norm that once was, is still there.

As he lay on the ground I whispered to him that I was sorry I let him down but I promised him that we would take care of mom and do as he expected. It’s been a year and we have kept that promise.  There are times that Mom takes a turn for the worse, but she bounces back with the extra TLC we give her and God saying, "not yet".  We have lost a lot of people but Mom continues to show strength despite her delicate condition and this gut wrenching disease.

There are so many things to say, without knowing where to begin.  Dad was a simple but complex person.  You knew right away what his values were.  Family, Faith, Strong work ethics, Responsibility, Food, Heritage, Baseball - especially his Amazing Mets, his Garden, playing dominoes and his special type of music.

Dad would have been proud of us. Family was everything for him and all he ever wanted was for us to be together, be good to each other, and to do our best taking care of the love of his life.  I do believe that the primary reason he had the strength, along with his faith, to beat cancer twice was so that he could stick around to take care of his wife, Angela.  He prayed daily for a miracle without realizing that the miracle was how close we are as a family and our common goal of taking care of Mom. 

He was a very faithful man, never missing a Sunday to go to church, unless he was in really bad shape. When Mom went with us to church, he would hold her hand and then eventually, he would grab her by the shoulder to bring her up for communion, even though she was past the point where she understood what was going on at church or that she should even be going there. Seeing him in his Sunday routine, from how every Sunday he would go early to church and would kneel to pray the rosary before mass, and then afterwards, mention how much his knees hurt for being in that position so long, to the way he walked up to get communion, was something to see.
 

Since his retirement in 2005 and move to SC, we got to really know a different person than what we knew in NJ.  Time changes people.  Dad was a changed person, but at his core, he was the same.  We just never really understood that.

Dad would work during the week and after work and dinner, would hangout mostly in the living room but many times in his bedroom, watching TV.  He worked hard and it showed.  On weekends, he would hang out, every weekend, in the Spanish Club, playing dominoes, pool, having a few beers - much to our resentment. When he wasn't doing that, he was working in his garden tending to his tomatoes and other stuff he grew.  That was probably his biggest struggle, to leave his routine, his friends, the club and move to SC.  But once he made up his mind, it was done.  He looked forward, not back.

Dad was taken out of school when he had completed his 2nd grade so that he could take care of the animals and bring lunch to his father who worked in the field.  Work was so important for him but at the same time, his regret. Besides our family trip to Puerto Rico every 5-7 years or so, primarily to see family, he never really had what we would call "a vacation".  Many a times, he would cry because he felt like any opportunity he had to do something with his life, was taken away from him, at a young age.  Mostly, his desire to finish school.  So he put all of his energy in his work, and he was serious about it. Something he instilled in all of us.  For most of his life, he was a landscaper and I remember growing up and going with him to cut the grass at one of the places he had to take care of.  Towards the later years, he was a factory worker, and worked to the point where he became the union rep at the factory.

When the time came, he retired and moved down to be with us.  He worked every day until he retired at 69, saving up his social security checks so he could put his down payment on the house they could finally afford.   At 70 years of age with his wife at 63, they not only bought their first house, it was a brand new house that had just been completed in a new neighborhood.  The ultimate dream home. Throughout my entire life, mom would constantly ask me if one day, I would be able to buy a house for her, but in the end, they did it themselves.  I still cry just thinking about how happy they were, and how proud we were, that day.

He did an amazing job taking care of his lawn and his garden.  He had years of practice and took it very seriously. We encouraged him to start walking and even about 5 months before he passed, he would go walk, and come back and cut the grass.  It did get to the point when he had to rely on us to cut his grass because he could not do that anymore.  However, when I would do it, he would only want me to cut the grass and would tell me that Manny, my brother-in-law, would be coming to edge and weed whack it.  Little did I know, he had made arrangements with him to do that because apparently I sucked at it.  He would complain that I was in a rush and would do a horrible job :)  He would not tell me that though.  What I heard was the Manny had offered to do that.

His garden though, that was something.  Every year, he would grow watermelons, beans, pumpkins and other stuff, primarily from seeds he would get from his brother in Puerto Rico.  His tomatoes never had a chance, due to the horrible dirt and the constant beating of the sun, because according to dad, he lived on top of a hill in a desert, "en esta loma, no crece nada".  I finally picked up his habits and started my own garden.  This year, we are planting his seeds that he had stored in the refrigerator and will be growing all of his items, in various places, including the back of his house.

At one point, I mentioned to him that we were going to start making meals for him because he was struggling with his health.  His response to me was, "Rafy, don't take that away from me.  Let me cook.  It's ok if you want to help with the yard and you guys are already taking care of Angelita, but I have nothing else to do.  I can continue to cook".  And cook he did.  Dad was known for cooking and boasted about he was even a better cook that mom and he had taught her how to cook.  We never really knew for sure if that was true as mom would not really push back.  Dad was always cooking and making things for us.  For every holiday, dad would make the rice, we would make everything else.  Whenever we had out of town family visitors, dad would prepare the meals and make his famous rice.  We would be responsible for lunch and taking them out but dinner was at dad's house.  He showed his love through his cooking and amazing food.  We continue to try to replicate his meals but they are not the same.   I miss walking in seeing the spices ready, about an hour before he would start to actually cook, smelling the food that was cooked or getting his voicemails saying he was done, but a bit too early because it got ahead of him.  Which frankly, was every time he cooked.

         

Dad first left Jayuya around 1955 or 1956. Trying to find a decent job in Puerto Rico that paid a good wage was impossible.  In NJ, he would work during the spring, summer and fall as a landscaper, but then winters would head back to Puerto Rico.  He never really wanted to leave and his heart was still back "home" in Jayuya.  That's actually why he never really bought a house in NJ.  He always thought he would go back and build a home on his "parcela" but that never came about.  This would be the routine every year until he and mom got married.  He and mom made the decision when mom was pregnant with me that they would move finally and the back and forth trips stopped.

He was a very proud Puerto Rican.  Not the standoffish kind that has never really been there and understands what it really means to be Puerto Rican, but the kind that has more like a spiritual connection with that island like he had.  His Jibaro Music was always playing at home or in his car.

His car had a ton of Puerto Rican stickers on it, including the necessary "el Gallo" (the rooster) emblazoned with the PR flag, several flags and one of the island shape.  We called it the Puerto Rican Mobile and when we decided to hand it off to Evelyn, because that is what he would have wanted, the condition was that she could not remove the stickers.

My ringtone for him was Lamento Borincano, and specifically the Marc Anthony version.  In it, he says:

"La mañana entera sin que nadie pueda su carga comprar

Su carga comprar

Todo.

Todo está desierto, el pueblo está muerto de necesidad

De necesidad

Se oye este lamento por doquier

De mi desdichado Borinquen

Y triste.

El jibarito va pensando así, diciendo así, llorando así por el camino

Que será de Borinquen mi Dios querido?

Que será de mis hijos y de mi hogar?

Borinquen.

La tierra del Edén, la que al cantar el gran Gautier llamo la perla de los mares

Ahora que tu te mueres con tus pesares

Déjame que te cante yo también.

Borinquen, de mi amor..."

He represented everything in that song. Worried about his wife, his family, his home and his Puerto Rico.  Whenever I play the song, I immediately begin to cry.  However, the lack of the ringtone going off every week, is even more painful.  Dad was and forever will be, my Jibarito.  My desire to learn more about Puerto Rico, the culture, the people, my family and especially my ancestors is at its core, because of my dad and the fact that deep in his heart, that is who he was.  Proud to be un Jibaro from Jayuya.

I pay more attention to the lyrics of those older songs to understand the meaning of them in relation to him.

His favorite time though, was Christmas when the aguinaldos and memories of the parrandas would come out in full force.  We gave him one years ago and the look on his face when we showed up, how he sang and how happy he was, will be forever etched in our minds.  I still listen to all of that music, especially when taking care of mom, every Saturday.  I play it to help remind her, and of course myself, of our Jibarito.

Growing up I remember the Puerto Ricans from the town I grew up in, always using the phrase Jibaro in a demeaning way, implying a country person instead of someone "from the city".  Which was supposedly better, according to them.  As I got older though, I realized they were completely wrong because of my dad, the family back in Jayuya and what I came to really understand about what that really means.

From the website El Boricua, "Jíbaro is a term used to refer to mountain people, who lived "in-land" in the heart of the island, and are the backbone of the Puerto Rican culture."  To me, it is probably the best description of what dad represented.  Honor, Honesty, Bravery, Tenacity, Hospitality, and as the website continues to describe, Self Sufficiency, Stubbornness and Mucho Orgullo!

The stubbornness especially came out when he was playing dominoes, which besides watching baseball on TV, was the only thing he ever really wanted to do. He was amazing at it too.  Before the first hand had gone around, he had already figured out what everybody had and was trying to put us in a position where he would take advantage of that and get as many points as possible.  It got so frustrating at times that it felt like entrapment.

It was also painful to listen to the "Rafy, why did you not go here when you had the chance...etc..." comments.  I would piss me off to no end since I had no clue what the heck I did wrong or what play, 3-4 plays back he was referring to.

Looking back at those moments, I am not sure if he was trying to "teach" us how to play by pointing out what we did wrong, or just making sure we understood how much he knew.  It was especially hard to tell when he would say that he won, when you consider that this is a partner based game.

What I would give to play another round, despite knowing that I was definitely going to get yelled at.

When it came to sports though, Baseball was it.  Nothing else mattered and it was his pastime. A die hard Mets fan, dad would prefer to watch the Mets on TV than go to a local baseball game.  We tried multiple times to get him to go to the Greenville Drive games, and while once in a blue moon he would go, most of the times he would just say no, that he was just going to stay home.  We knew immediately that it was because the Mets were playing.  It did not matter if they were in a complete losing streak or not and in last place.  He was not a fair weather fan.

The only exception to that norm was when the Big or Senior League World Series tournament was underway and the Puerto Rican team was here.

The games are always the end of July or first week of August and it did not matter how hot it was going to be, Dad would show up about 30 minutes before the game started to get the best seat at the bleachers, with his cushioned seats and umbrella in tow.

I would always see him there with mom, and when mom became bedridden, the girls would make arrangements to stay with her so that dad could go to the games.

In 2018, when the tournament started again, just three months after dad's passing, during the entire first game while I was in the dugout where I usually am with the team, I could not stop crying almost the entire game because I was in my usual spot but he was not in his.  I kept looking over to an empty bleacher while at the same time feeling like I had the worst sore throat I have ever had due to the gigantic lump in my throat.  It was 3 months after my team's number one fan was gone, forever.  It will never be the same.

He was so happy one year that Puerto Rico came and they were doing great, that he even made his famous rice for them.







Lastly, how we remember dad, was how much he adored his family, especially his grandchildren and great grandchildren, how much they adored him and miss him so much.  From Adrian asking why Papa's heart was bad while taking out a plastic screwdriver and saying that he could fix it, to Brielle bringing flowers regularly to his gravesite, to Lexi holding on to one of the overly used plastic bowls that Papa used to send her food in, to Angela who feels honored to be living in Papa's house, to Joshua who wanted one thing only, the recliner he took his last breath in, to Dan who wanted his Jibaro Music, to Tony who broke the door down and had to call 911, to Michael who is constantly reminded about how he looks like you, to Mom who I am sure, deep in her heart knows that a piece is missing, to everyone of us who lost the patriarch of our family.

We have missed you everyone of these 365 days since you left us, but we will never forget you.