Chichila de papá... that's how my daddy used to call me. I miss him alot. He died of cancer when i was 15. He was sick since i was about 8 or 9. So as you can imagine, that made me grow up sooner than i was supposed to. I had to help my mom out, with my dad and my lil brother. I grew up ok i guess... but my brother not so much, the whole thing with my dad really screwed him up. In my case i helped my mom out alot. I helped around the house, with my brother, even with my dad. I would go with them to doctors appointment, i would sleep in the hospital when he had surguries. When he got really really sick, that he could walk and had to wear dipers, i would clean up after him too, Change his dippers and all.
I grew up to be just like him, Strong (at least i pretend to be), a fighter, loving, caring, he was funny :), and a menace sometimes. I really love him.
I learned to fight, and never give up from him, to work until you get what you want. My dad, he didn't want to die (nobody does), but, he was determined not to. He would search for any treatment, he would do anything that was supposed to battle and kill his cancer. And to make him stop working, that was our daily fight, he had his own company that he built from scratch... He would never stop working.
He was a big bellied man :), and when i was a baby i used to fall asleep in that big belly. As i grew up i still fell asleep on it. Only this time only my head could be on top of it.
When i picture him in my head, i see him smiling, he was always smiling, even when he was really sick.
The day he died, i remember i got home from school and went directly to my brothers room with my brother. I didn't go say hi to my dad like i always did, something told me not to, something told me to stay in my brothers room (which was the one farthest away from my parents room) and protect my brother. My mom called us and ask us "Kids, arent you going to say hi to your dad". But i couldnt. Something told me not to, and also, there were visitors in my house, cheking up on my dad. And i dont like it when the house was crowded. Anyways, moments later i heard some movements and my mom, she sounded despareate, i heard her call my dad desperatly, i covered my ears, then i heard her scream "NOOOOO, MATIAS", matias, thats my dad. So immediatly i knew, my dad was dead... My mom and nana came into the room, huged us, the old ladies came (the visitors), and asked us to go say goodbye to my dad, i refused... I couldnt go out of that room, i couldnt see my dad dead. I never could really see dead people. I remember him being pulled away like in those crime movies, covered with some sheets. But never saw his face or body.
At the funeral home, i didn't go inside to the room he was in. I refused to see him dead, and to my personal opinion, i don't think its ok to force someone to see a dead body, i didn't want my last memory of my dad to be him being dead, is that a crime? People kept saying i needed closer, FUCK CLOSER, i just wanted to remember my father alive. And i don't regret it.
As i told you, i used to take care of him, so when i was alone at home with him, i would check up on him alot. So one day i was in the phone mith a friend and told him, "i'll be right back give me a second" and went to my parents room and open the door to check up on my dad. Well he wasn't there, his corner was empty, i forgot he was dead, i forgot he wasnt there anymore. So you can imagine how empty i felt, how sad. I always thought it was unfair, to take my dad away from me so young, even more unfair to my brother, he grew up without a man figure in the house, and he couldn't step up to the position either. I have siblings, other than my younger brother, but when my dad died they disappear from our lives. My dad has to be really disappointed in them, its 4 of them. They are from my dads side. But we are still there youngest siblings that had a hard time growing up, and could have used their support.
This is what i can say for now of my daddy, there is still more to come.
