On November 25th 1988, my dad died. I was 7 back then and, in a way, being so young stopped me from wondering what would happen to us next, or how life would be without my dad. I still felt the blow, don't get me wrong. I just felt it different, I guess. The truth was never softened for me - how could that happened, when my dad died in our house? I was never the poor little girl without a father either, and I've repeatedly told my mum how much I appreciate that. Try to picture this: a 39 year-old widow with three kids aged 20, 14 and 7. She either tightened the rules, or hell would break loose.
When my dad died, everyone told my mum "Don't worry, Nora, we'll help you with the kids." Did we ever get that help, in any way? No. In 18 years not one of my uncle's did anything for us, and the only person who ALWAYS helped us, until the day he passed, was my grandfather. Everything we did, every thing we have, our education, were achieved through our efforts. My mum had the hardest time trying to make everything work over the years, but we never lacked anything. Maybe we didn't have great luxuries, but we had everything we needed. These last 18 years made us who we are today, and I can't help but wonder how different things would have been, had my father lived longer.
I don't have many memories of him. He was bald, and I used to comb his remaining hair in funny ways. Every Sunday morning I would stand by the bathroom's door and watch him shave. He taught me how to ride a bike; first he tried getting rid of one of the training wheels, but when that didn't work, he took both off, pushed me down the sidewalk, and the next thing I remember is him and my brother cheering because I had FINALLY nailed it. :D (I was 7, by the way. Slow. :D)
He was only 52 when he died. He hadn't had an easy life, but he made it through. Football was his life: he played in every amateur team he could find (and we have tons of pictures to prove it :D), and I'm sure he played up to the last days of his life - he had a heart condition (the Chagas disease), and he had to stay active and fit. Said heart condition was the cause of his death, anyway. He was very honest, and loved his family.
I just wish I could have been given more time with him.
When my dad died, everyone told my mum "Don't worry, Nora, we'll help you with the kids." Did we ever get that help, in any way? No. In 18 years not one of my uncle's did anything for us, and the only person who ALWAYS helped us, until the day he passed, was my grandfather. Everything we did, every thing we have, our education, were achieved through our efforts. My mum had the hardest time trying to make everything work over the years, but we never lacked anything. Maybe we didn't have great luxuries, but we had everything we needed. These last 18 years made us who we are today, and I can't help but wonder how different things would have been, had my father lived longer.
I don't have many memories of him. He was bald, and I used to comb his remaining hair in funny ways. Every Sunday morning I would stand by the bathroom's door and watch him shave. He taught me how to ride a bike; first he tried getting rid of one of the training wheels, but when that didn't work, he took both off, pushed me down the sidewalk, and the next thing I remember is him and my brother cheering because I had FINALLY nailed it. :D (I was 7, by the way. Slow. :D)
He was only 52 when he died. He hadn't had an easy life, but he made it through. Football was his life: he played in every amateur team he could find (and we have tons of pictures to prove it :D), and I'm sure he played up to the last days of his life - he had a heart condition (the Chagas disease), and he had to stay active and fit. Said heart condition was the cause of his death, anyway. He was very honest, and loved his family.
I just wish I could have been given more time with him.
Current Mood: 
contemplative
contemplativeCurrent Music: Alphaville - Big In Japan
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