Dad has glaucoma. Well, he's had it for a while now. I remember when I was finishing my certification he would ask me about the circle of light around the street light or around the moon. I couldn't see it. Turns out it was happening then.
Because of this he almost went blind. One eye really doesn't do much to help his sight by now. The other, the good eye, well, that one became infected last week. He almost went blind again.
When this first happened I was angry, I was furious. My father, who left everything behind in Cuba, who (even though college educated) could not continue his studies here because his studies didn't count, and ended working warehouses and such so that he could support his family, was going blind. What a fracking rotten joke.
This man has pride, real pride, not the silly thing that passes for pride today ... the "I am better than you" bravado that some men have. This man who never let his pride rise above who he was. This man who has a quiet and confident faith that will turn out as it should, this man was going blind. He deserved a good, relaxing and joy filled retirement damn it!
Things did eventually get better. He got eye sight, mostly on one eye, and after cataract surgery he could se better than most. He was a happy man ... he could read his newspapers in peace, he could read his books and watch his TV. You could feel his joy.
My father is quiet, reserved, full of opinions, and full of questions when it comes to this new technology. My father wants to know what happened in the world every day, he reads newspapers from all over the Latin American world. Ask him about what's going on ... go on, ask him ... he will tell you. He never lords his knowledge over you, and he never makes you feel inferior. He knows who he is, and he knows who you are.
My father had a trust and confidence in me that helped me have a trust and confidence in me few could have. He knew what I could do, he knew what I should do, he allowed me the freedom to choose, to make mistakes, to learn by those mistakes and to get up and go on.
I remember when it first hit me how he does things. I was in college. I was talking with dad about school, growing up and he mentioned Colegio San José, in Río Piedras, Puerto Rico. I went there for ninth grade. It was an all boys private school ran by the Holy Cross Brothers.
It was a unique experience to go there. Oh, I got bullied as usual (was used to it by then) but I also made some friends. Anyhow, one thing I did learn about was sex. I never realized how much porn there could be in a Catholic school. Then again, it WAS an all boys school.
So, back to the conversation about school. My father kept going on about the ceremonies there, the rosary we prayed in the courtyard as a school once ... and me, being my usual college arrogant punk, decide to say "yea, but dad, did you know that I found out about porn there? Do you know how much there was?" He looked at me and said "Yeah, I knew you were ready to face that one." And let it go at that.
Shocked? Yup. Surprised? Yup. A better person from the whole ninth grade experience? Absolutely. My father had confidence in me, that I would rise above it all. Wow. Still amazes me today.
Once, when I was a manipulating little punk (I've always been a punk, by the way), he knew I was trying to get him and mom divided on something I wanted. Candy or some other sort of stupid thing. Anyhow, he looked at me in the eyes and quietly informed me that I could never be more important to him than my mom, that she came first. And I understood. He loves me, Oh does he love me. I also understood, mom is the light of his life and I could never get between them.
I told that to a friend once. She said it was horrible. I said it made me so secure in my place, in my life, in my family. It made me feel reassured, confident. I don't know how or why. I can't explain but it just did.
My father is kind of like Yoda to me sometimes. He has a confident faith that all will happen as it should and we'll deal with it then. In retrospective I can see that he was the Ying to my mom's panicky Yang. When mom became distressed about things going bad, about debts, about whatever, dad was there quietly anchoring the ship so things would be fine. If it hadn't been for him, I think we would have fallen apart some days.
Oh, that last one opens up more memories and things. But this is long enough already.
Funny, this was going to be about mom and dad and their relationship right now. Got me sidetracked on dad.
My father.
The man I could only wish I could be.
