My Dad's Birthday

Today is my Dad´s birthday. I never called him Dad. He was (is) my Pop. When I was little I called him Papi (because he made an effort to speak Spanish to us when we were little) and then as I got older it transformed into Pop. He would be 62 years old today. I woke up thinking that I would feel good about his birthday and feel celebratory this time because perhaps enough time had passed so I could allow myself to feel that way. It was kinda the opposite. I cried uncontrollably for most of the morning alone and then when I went to babysit I was crying in the bathroom while the little boy watched Scooby Doo in the living room. Last year on this day, I was in the Bahamas. I was doing okay for most of the day until we went to the straw market in Nassau and I found something I wanted to buy. I told her I wanted to come back when I was done and she said, "Okay, my name is Mona." This immediately sent me over the edge because that was what my Pop called me, that was his nickname for me. I exited the straw market and cried.

I miss him so much.

When people say they have or had the best father, they are usually just saying it. I really did though. He worked several jobs when my sister and I were little and he would be dead tired when he came home but he would be insanely excited to play with us. He took every single opportunity he had to take us everywhere, show us anything he thought would be fun or interesting. He was a fantastic cook, (I think that is why it is such an admirable trait when a man can cook) he helped my mother with everything around the house, he was my T-ball coach, my assistant soccer coach, my unofficial gymnastics cheerleader, my basketball trainer, and probably the one person who really believed I could be a writer someday. He believed in me much more than I believed in myself. He used to take me to a creek by our house and we would catch crayfish and frogs and turtles. He gave everyone great advice. He was so calm and warm and sweet and caring. Just being in his presence was calming because he had such a traquil nature and always wore a smile...even when he was sick. I miss him so much right now it is hard to breathe. I feel like I can't really talk to many people about it. I used to talk to Julian but now I can't. I can't talk to my mother or sister because I don't want to make them sad. I just wish I could see him, hear his voice, or hug him again.