When I was 25 years old my father passed away. Every day I am grateful that I had the knowledge he was going to pass and that I took advantage of the time I knew he had left.
Even though I have no regrets, I still feel cheated. At one point or another my life milestones have meant less to me because my father wasn't here. As I get older there are some things about me that I know only my father would understand. And because of that, there were moments during the years without him that had been lonely.
People have told me that in time the pain of loss would subside or even went as far as to tell me to "get over it". But losing my father at such a young age is more like a wound that never heals. Sometimes you may poke and pick at it, cover it with a bandage, or leave it open for the world to see in hopes that it heals quicker. Yet, it never really does. It's there. There are times you don't even notice it, until you do, and it feels like it hurts all over again.
" . . . losing my father at such a young age is more like a wound that never heals. "
My father was my cheering section. He was the one person who believed I could do and be anything. When he died, the stadium of my life went silent as my biggest fan left the stands and it was confidence shattering. It took me years to be able to hear his voice again subtlety disguised in the ovations of my close friends and family.
The funny thing about time, although it may not heal my wounds, it definitely puts everything into perspective. Time passes, and I see myself growing into the person my father wanted, a more perfect version of himself. The person that never takes herself too seriously, the person who isn't too shy to sing out loud (even if it means I sometimes hit the wrong note), the person who will spend my last nickel to make family memories, the person who cares for the stray dog that shows up on my porch, and the person who finally believes that I can do anything, especially when using power tools. And in the years to come I am hoping to become more like him. At least enough to do crossword puzzles in ink.
In memoriam Robert A. (Sanford) Gallegos 1945 - 1997