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- Growing Up Bronx
I’m sitting at my desk, reading over some articles and then I said the following:
Hello, Angel, Soy yo, tu papa, Jose…
This was generally how my father would introduce himself when he called or left a message. I said it, trying to sound like him. Then it hit me, he’s gone.
I feel myself getting sucked into a vacuum, the tears begin to flow, my breathing gets fast, and I panic. My son is sleeping, and my wife is on a business trip. Not that either of them could do anything. The only thing that happens when they show up during a time like this is that I resort to having to be strong, and I tell them I’m fine, and suppress the feelings.
Is this what it’s like? It’s not as bad as it used to be, I can gather my composure and get it together. However, the emptiness that I feel remains. There is no way to explain the feeling one has, when you know that they are gone forever. It’s a suffocating, terrifying feeling. I save all of my dad’s last voice mails to me, and I have a few videos, so I can see, and hear him. But he’s gone.
Growing Up Bronx