Still with Us
August 9 marks another year since Papa left us in 2013.
Just eight months before we lost him, my brother Christy (Augustine) passed away suddenly and unexpectedly. It was a loss that shook our family deeply. In the time that followed, we sometimes found comfort in a thought that was uniquely ours—that perhaps Christy had gone ahead to get everything ready for Papa to join him. He knew how much Papa loved him, and how much he loved Papa.
It was a comforting thought then. It still is today.
His Love Was in What He Did
Papa came from a generation of men who did not often say the words “I love you.” I do not remember needing to hear them.
His love was in what he did. It was in providing for his family. It was in carrying responsibilities without complaint. It was in making sacrifices that we probably did not fully understand or appreciate until much later in life.
For me, one of those sacrifices changed the course of my entire life.
“Growing up, I remember thinking that if someday I could become even half the man my father was, I would consider my life accomplished.”
The Opportunity He Gave Me
When I had the opportunity to go to the United States to pursue my education, Papa spent almost all of his retirement money to make it possible. Money he had worked a lifetime to save, he willingly put toward my future.
I do not know that I could ever adequately repay a sacrifice like that. Perhaps the only way to repay it was to make something of the opportunity he gave me.
Growing up, I remember thinking that if someday I could become even half the man my father was, I would consider my life accomplished. I still feel that way.
That Mustache. That Smile.
Papa had a presence about him. With his distinguished mustache and that fierce look he could sometimes give you, he could appear pretty intimidating. But those who truly knew him knew what was underneath.
He was really a teddy bear.
And then there was his smile. He did not give it away all the time, which perhaps made it even more special. But when Papa smiled, he really smiled. It was warm, unmistakable and unforgettable. It is one of those images of him that has never faded from my memory.
When Papa Danced
There was another side of Papa that I especially loved. He loved his old records.
Every now and then, with the right guests in the house, a few drinks enjoyed, and one of those records playing, Papa would dance.
And when he danced, he seemed completely free. For those few minutes, it was as though all the responsibilities he carried, all the worries of life and all the problems in the world had simply disappeared. There was only the music, the people around him, and that moment.
I can still picture him.
Loved and Remembered
Papa was not perfect. None of us are. He had his faults, his stubbornness and his ways. But there was never any doubt about the one thing that mattered most.
He loved his family with everything he had. And he was loved in return.
Not just by his wife and children, but by his siblings, relatives, friends and so many others whose lives crossed his. He was respected, admired and adored by the people who knew him.
I was proud to be his son then. I am even prouder today.
The Man I Became
So much of the man I became began with him—with the example he set, the sacrifices he made, the opportunities he gave me and the quiet lessons I learned simply by watching him live his life.
More than a decade has passed since he left us, yet rarely does much time go by without something bringing him back into my thoughts.
That mustache. That smile.
Or simply a moment when I find myself wishing he were still here.
There are some people whose absence never really becomes smaller. We simply learn how to carry it with us. Papa is one of those people for me.
If somewhere along the way I have managed to become even half the man I once hoped to be—half the man I saw in my father—then I know I have done something right.
And I hope he would be proud of the man I became. I know how incredibly proud I will always be to have been his son.