Adiós Papá

My father's death did not come as a surprise, since he was diagnosed with cancer almost 15 years ago, however, he had overcome it. Other illnesses were added to this, which gradually diminished his existence, extinguishing his light last March.

The death of my father has knocked me out, (literally). I understand and firmly believe that death is only a stage, that after life in this reality there is more, much more. I know well that we travel and experience eternity in families of souls, moving through different timelines, with different stories, but usually together, and perhaps that certainty is the only incentive that still allows me to stand and not collapse completely.

I haven't cried enough, I can't, it's like a huge rock is squeezing my chest, and it hurts so, so, so much... I didn't think it would hurt so much. I'm writing this today, because I have so much sadness inside, I think I need to drain it somehow, and writing this post may be helpful. Every day I walk through the memories, his gestures, his voice, his intelligence and all his peculiarities, dad was a very intelligent person, very special. In fact, he was called "The Green Giant", not because he was green, but because he was over two meters tall. His other nickname was "The American", because of his physical features.

Dad taught me to love nature, science, because he was a man of science. He taught me to love knowledge, and learning with him was a lot of fun. It was beautiful when he would catch fireflies with his huge hands, to explain to me, a 6-year-old girl (at the time), the phenomenon of bioluminescence. He would make paper rockets and fly them in the street in front of the house to explain aerodynamics to me. He taught me to use magnifying glasses, scalimeters, he taught me to love geometry. He taught me to love space, he gave me my first telescope, and he taught me star maps. He also taught me to love the sea, not to be afraid of it, he would go into it and I, being a little girl, would go safely with him, because I knew I would not be in danger, he would protect me, while he played with me. There are so many memories with my father that it would take hundreds of posts to write them all down.

I don't want to keep writing, I really don't want to keep writing. This post is more for me than for him. I talk daily with him, with my father, in my prayers, in my thoughts and in my memories; however, with myself I don't talk, I am mute and deaf. As I said, I feel knocked out, and I need to recover, to stabilize myself. I don't even know how I have been able to attend to my beloved communities, which perhaps are not 100% attended, but I have tried to keep them active, doing my best. Maybe, after this post I will resume writing my blog, I will go back to making recipes, presenting insects, plants, I don't know well, I am not sure. I guess every death has its time of acceptance and I don't know when I will be able to fully process that my dad has died.