In September of 2001 our life changed forever. It was my junior
year of high school. My sister, Alana was in middle school while my older
brother was in college. On September morning, my mom woke up bright and early
to make her Bustelo coffee. As she brewed her coffee the aroma happened to wake
me up in the process. As I’m entering the Kitchen I ask my mom for my blessing
and she responds, “Dios te bendiga hijo”. She follows with statement, “I’ve
noticed your father has been acting and doing weird things lately. She
apparently knew something was wrong but could not pin point it. Several months
passed by and my mom received a phone call from my dad’s supervisor Mr. Frank.
He starts explaining to my mom strange things he has noticed my father doing.
He was arriving to work at 4am and then falling asleep in the parking lot until
6am. Mr. Frank found that very weird and so did my mom. Following that talk, my
mom tried to take my dad to see the doctor for a checkup. My dad was a strong
Dominican man, who believed that going to a doctor was a sign of weakness. I
knew at that point my mom was going to have a difficult time convincing him to
go see the doctor. After trying to persuade him for a couple of weeks, he gave
in to my mother and went to his first doctor’s visit in years. After several
test, analysis, my dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s at the age 56. At this
point, he was forced to retire from his position at Pepsi Cola, he worked for
over 30 years.
Alzheimer’s??? I ask myself what the heck is that?!
I clearly had no Idea what the disease was until I did a little research
for myself. While I read countless articles, documents and books on this
disease, I could not understand how a strong man like my dad could come down
with this disease. As the diseased progressed, my mother refused to “throw” him
in a nursing home. It was against her cultural believes and her wedding vows.
We had no idea what we were getting into as a family nor all the obstacles and
challenges we were going to face.
My dad’s condition progressed at a rapid pace. The last 4 years of my dad’s
life, were the worst of mine. I slowly came to realize I had lost what
was left of my father. I no longer had that male figure to look up to or the
father to discuss the Yankee game anymore. The loss of my dad came prior to his
death- it hit me, and HIT ME HARD. Although my siblings and I shared our own
unique bond with my father, I was extremely close to him. I was also the one
who struggled with expressing my feelings the most. On March 17th, 2012 my dad, my
family and I lost the battle with Alzheimer’s. He was only 70 years old.
While dealing with the loss on my own, my younger sister signed up to train
& run the 2013 NYC Marathon. The idea of running a marathon seemed insane,
but coming from my sister, I would expect anything and everything. At first, I
was a little doubtful of her commitment until I joined her on a group run.
Running has never been my forte but seeing how hard my sister trained and
meeting the group completely changed my feelings towards running. Running
became necessary in order to heal. Unfortunately, the team last year was not
able to run the NYC Marathon. My sister, Alana, went on with a couple of
teammates to run the Miami Marathon on January 27th, which was on my
dad’s birthday. Unfortunately, I couldn’t fly down to see her cross the finish
line due to an ankle ligament surgery. I am sure my dad was extremely proud and
guided her the whole 26.2 miles.
Now, this year is my turn to RUN for my father, for my mother who cared for him
until the end, for my sister who took the season off to bless the family with
the first baby, and for ME. This is run is for all the times I couldn’t tell
anyone how I felt, for the baseball games we missed. This is me telling you dad
that I love you and miss you dearly.
No comments:
Post a Comment