Thankful Post 4

Okay friendly bloggers, I am still a day behind. Perhaps due to the fact that I am taking so much time finding pictures and thinking of words. Hang in there and I promise I will make the 30 posts!

Tonight, I chose my father as my focus. For many years, he was a difficult person to figure out. It took me almost 30 years to understand things from his perspective and realize that he has many stories underneath the surface.

First of all, my dad is a handsome guy. From Quito, Ecuador, he has the great traits (that completely skipped me!) like the nice complexion, the thick, black hair that is never out of place. My friends in high school would tell me, "Your dad is so...suave." So they started calling him "Suave Guy." It's true though. He dresses up for 6-hour plane rides, with nice shoes, pressed jeans, the whole bit. I remember going to the airport with him and wearing comfortable pants or sweats. Something NOT dressy. He was not impressed.
My dad lived in Quito until he was in his twenties. He was able to come to the US because his mother, mi abuelita, was a single mom raising four children. His father had died when he was only a few months old. He left his enormous family, came to work in New York and has been here ever since. He worked for IBM for years, which changed to several other companies over the years. He always worked very hard, but hardly ever talked about work. For many years, I had no idea what my father actually did for a living.

My dad has many facets-a humorous side that is pretty fun to listen to, a philosophical side that doesn't always show, but when it does-he has a lot to say. He sets lofty expectations and is concerned with appearance and confidence. If I had a dime for every time he (or anyone for that matter!) told me to "speak louder"..... Of course he is right-showing confidence is not a bad lesson to learn.


My father and I decided to take a trip to Quito for a few weeks to visit our family in 2001. I was turning 30 and we were moving to Arizona right after this trip. My husband stayed home to work and prepare for moving.

One thing is important to note: My dad is like a movie star among family members. They ALL come to the airport and we came home to bouquets of flowers, food, drink and everyone crying and excited at the same time. At the time, my dad's mom was still alive at age 90 (or more-I don't recall) and she would weep, telling all of us this was her "hijito".

As we visited family each day, with each story that my aunts and cousins told me, the more I realized I didn't know my father very well at all. One of my cousins took me up on her roof and explained that at one point, she had no money for a place to live. My father sent her money and gave her land. Now she has a pink house, in which her daughter, son-in-law and grandchild live downstairs. Another explained how my father had helped keep the house he and his siblings grew up in, renovated it for his mother to live in. Story upon story of all kinds of help. He never said a word, even while we were there. I learned about his generosity from our family members.
Sometimes I wonder why I didn't see that all before. Of course, we lived apart for much of our life. But it is amazing to hear how love he bestows upon all of them. He doesn't visit them very often and on the last day of our trip, I realized why. He had bought gifts and cards for all of his family members to thank them for our stay. I sat at the table with him while he wrote. At one point, he stopped and put his hands on his face and cried. I loved these good people in the short time that I had to get to know them. He had loved them for a lifetime and leaving twists you inside out. I visited on my own in 2003 and cried the whole way home on the plane. Sometimes I think my father would rather put that pain at arm's length, even with me and my boys.

My father is thrilled to have two grandsons-so much that he sent regulation size soccer balls as a baby gift. He "finally" has boys. I wasn't much fun to take to the airport to sit and watch airplanes take off and land. I didn't play sports-tried soccer for one day. I liked music and singing. But we connected in 2002. He taught me "Pobre Corazon" and told me about his favorite haunts, where he used to play and work. We could go back to the balcony at my grandmother's house right now, overlooking the city and I know he could tell me a million more stories. I have so much more to learn.

I love my dad. Maybe the road hasn't always been a road we traveled together, but I am grateful to have such a generous legacy to tell about and a wonderful papi for my two boys.
Es un buen tipo, mi viejo.