I heard my Dad had a heart attack when I was 23 years old. He had been estranged for years. As I frantically dialed several relatives trying to get his number, I made a decision that day if he lived; I would learn to forgive the past and get to know this elusive being. Turns out the heart attack was a misunderstanding, but thankfully landed me at his front door just the same.
There he was, this beautiful human who reached his arms out to me and whispered in my ear, “I thought I lost you forever, Mija.”
For the next twenty three years he was my best friend until he passed. Along the way our family healed and forgave one by one looking forward, enjoying his hilarious stories, and in his own way, love.
I have missed so much his intelligence and our lively political debates during election years. Mostly I miss his need to tell jokes and make me laugh.