Missing Papi

WP_20151120_001I’m never ready for the flood of emotions when something reminds me of him. Last time, a light vanilla scent wafted past and there he was, sitting in his favorite chair, talking and smiling around the pipe in his teeth. His chair sits in my living room, a last reminder of him. Sometimes I curl up in it, just to smell him again.

Today, I wandered through our local farmers’ market, chattering to Talia about the produce, “Look, mija! Avocados, tomatoes, hojas de plátano!” It was a perfect day: a clear sky, a warm sun, a light breeze, and the strums of a guitar in the air. I pushed Talia’s stroller through the market, looking for the source of the music. He stood near the front of the market, guitar case open in front of him, singing with such passion that I had to listen.

And I’m in the restaurant, as Papi performs for the patrons; I’m at the beach, where he plays for my friends; I’m in our living room, when he sings to make me happy again.

I crouched down to Talia: “Look, mija, la guitarra! Do you remember Abuelo played one?” Her hand touched my face, “¿Mamá, triste?” I’m so much more than sad. He won’t see her first day of school, her quinceanera, her wedding. She’ll never know his tenderness, his humor, his never ending support. My angel will never know my champion; mi hija will never know mi papi.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Missing Papi

Join the conversation!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s