November 15, 2016
Dear Papi,
I have been staring at this blank paper with tears streaming down my face, hitting every key, trying to think of how to write this for you without feeling any pain in every word. After an hour, I’ve come to realize that it won’t go away, it never will. What hurts the most is that out of all the possibilities you told me this world contained, this is the one impossibility there is, the impossibility of not only imagining a world without you, but learning to live in it.
You know, having to let you go was the toughest thing I ever had to do, the toughest being able to accept the fact that I won’t be able to hear your voice anymore—not even if it’s to get after me. For 4 months, so far, I have beared an intolerable feeling. A feeling that will never leave me. Since you left, it pains me to think of the important times you won’t be there to triumph with me, to celebrate with me. I have a lot of milestones left I know you would have loved to attend.
Out of six children, I came to be your last love, your negra. I was your spoiled baby, the one you would willingly give your sandwich to, the one you had just made for yourself, once you saw my smile craving it. You know, the relationship we had was one I will never regret. You showed me what the definition of love is with the care you had for me. I hope you knew the immense admiration I had toward you. You were the man I looked up to, even with your flaws. You were a reserved man, very private, but never withheld any knowledge, in contrast you shared every bit you had. I loved that about you. I loved how you could go off talking about some sort of past psychology theory to the dinosaur era in one second. I just wish I could have had more time to listen to your philosophies and learn life from you.
The twenty years of life you were with me, you taught me what hard work and determination is. I learned at a very young age a “no confundir la libertad con el libertinaje,” a value many have yet to learn. You molded me into this unique individual whose mind you took time to protect and form. You instilled in me new perspectives, teaching me how to correctly view and act on any situation. Even if you never were able to give me my first driving lesson, you gave me the lesson of taking the wheel of my own life and driving through the right road. You gave me direction, a head to yield and stop when needed but to patiently wait for that red light to turn green, because it eventually does. You taught me to go on about my own pace, at 65 mph on a 75 mph highway, al cabo la persona en frente de mi solo llega cinco minutos antes.
You taught me to be a 100 instead of a 98, porque soy Salas. You made me question why I didn’t get those two points and why next time I should try harder, and thanks to you I always did. You taught me to always be that one person who’s different from everybody, who naturally stands out and is confident about it. Daddy, you are the reason for who I am and who I wish to be.
Apa, even if I dread every day without your presence, I know you present me with a new found strength every time. I usually see you in myself every morning when I take a look at my curls and instead see you combing your “Elvis-looking-hair,” like you did after every shower. I see you in the pronunciation of my every word, trying to make sense of it all when I speak. I see you cuando estoy en busca de extraterrestres entre las estrellas, like that one time we thought we had found aliens roaming around above us. You are in my morning coffee and my late lunch of huevos rancheros. I am your reflection apa. I see you in myself every day and even though that sometimes hurts my heart, I know that you will never leave my side. You are always with me, entre el olor de cigarro que corre por el viento.
I will forever love you Nando,
Your chapa