When my father came to visit us in November I changed his voicemail on his phone with P. I said a phrase, P repeated it until we were done and it went like this:
Jorgie
Not Here
Leave Message
Thank you.
Ironically, P and I just got back from a 16 day trip to Florida. My father passed away on January 12th at roughly 7:30pm. P and I got to spend Sunday and Monday with him before he passed on Tuesday. I didn’t get to see him his last day.
On Sunday we came in off a red-eye. I didn’t sleep at all, P slept the whole way. That day I was overwhelmed with visiting my father and seeing him in his last stage of colon cancer which had spread throughout his pancreas, brain, lungs, liver and testicles. Needless to say he mearly resembled the man I knew my entire life. I was so overwhelmed I forgot to change P’s diaper and she got an awful rash.
Monday, I also had a hard time juggling P and spending time with my dad. I forgot to feed P enough. By Wednesday she was sick. I called my brother and told him I needed one day to focus on P. If he thought I should go over to see my dad ( I was staying at a friend’s house) I would but I needed to take care of P. My dad passed away and I didn’t get to see him that day.
It was probably for the best. Almost a week earlier my dad had called me. He had more strength in his voice than what he had had in a long time. He was very clear. His wish was to die ASAP. He asked me as the eldest child to help him. He couldn’t take it anymore. If I wouldn’t do it, he would. I asked him to wait for me. He said he’d wait until Monday but that Monday was his last day no matter what. I don’t think I could have looked at him in the eye on Tuesday knowing I couldn’t follow through with my promise to try and figure something out.
My father and I had a tumultous relationship throughout most of my adult life. It was when I became a parent that we got closer. His dream for me was to become a professional tennis player. Even after I was a mom he’d drop comments about how I could make a comeback on the tour the way Lindsay Davenport did after having her first child. Problem is I was never top 10 in the world but he never saw that as a factor. Actually I was never top 300, but in his mind I could have been number one.
I think my father and I got closer because it was one of the few times we saw eye to eye on something. We both strived to make each generation better. My father grew up in extreme poverty. He didn’t have a childhood. He watched his father drown when he was 12. That left him, the eldest, as the provider for 5 sisters and a brother. He was so poor he had to steal food to feed his family. Tennis is what got him out of the bad situation he was dealt. However, the mindset that comes with having to fight for the basics: food, clothing and shelter never left him.
Growing up I spent a lot of time with my dad. He figured that if tennis did so much for him it could do even more for me. He taught me to play and therefore we spent hours on the court, training off the court, going to tournaments, etc. Now, as an adult I recognize that my dad tried to pass on to me the skills he developed from his youth without enduring his state of poverty. These skills were integrated with the tennis lessons so I didn’t see what he was really teaching me until a few years ago when I had my child.
Today, I’m trying to pass onto my daughter the things I learned with my father but through a different method. My dad was really hard on me. I’m sure child protective services would have taken my brother and I away had they seen what went on in our household at times. I hated my dad as I experienced his “lesson”. However, now I understand where he was coming from.
If I feel overwhelmed as I try to figure out how to be a good parent I cant image how he must have felt at 12 becoming a parent to his siblings. I’ve been reading parenting books since I was a teen. I’ve diligently watched parents and tried to figure out what makes a good and bad parent. I had parents. But my dad had no parents really and he had no education or good parental influences. Add the social expectations of a Latin society where the male is suppose to dominate and you’ve got an abusive situation. When I think back I realize half the time my dad didn’t really know what to do but he masked it with his temper.
In November, when my dad was here he watched me with P one day. She didn’t want to pick up her toys and we were in a rush to get out the door. Instead of screaming at her or hitting her I covered my face and pretended to cry and I told her she made me so so sad when she didn’t pick up her toys. And just like that she started picking them all up. My dad looked over at me and shook his head as if to say “wow, had I known what you know now how different life would have been”.
I know my dad saw how much better P has it than himself or me. One day when P was about a year old we all went to the carousel. My dad asked me how often I took her to ride it and I replied about once a week or so. He told me a story about his childhood. His father didn’t let him and his siblings ride carousels. So, they would sneak out of the house and either steal money to get on or sneak on. Because it was such an ordeal, he only rode a carousel about twice in his lifetime. When I looked over at him I saw he was close to tears as he told the story.
P has carousel rides, which he didn’t have. She has music and swim lessons that I didn’t have. She throws pennies in fountains and has a good amount of toys which neither one of us ever had.
Each generation is getting better and we continue to hold onto the core traits from the previous generations. I see in P much of my father. She is fearless. She is determined. She makes these faces when focusing on a project that are exactly like my dad’s expressions. And she has great athletic ability.
So, Jorgie is no longer here physically. But his spirit is. Before passing away I asked my dad for one big favor: please watch over my children, don’t let anything happen to them. And with what little ability he had to move he nodded yes.
Pops, thank you for giving me a crazy amount of self-confidence. Thank you for making my life better than yours. Thank you for all your time and devotion. Thank you for teaching me to be a good parent through your mistakes and successes and supporting me in my methods of parenting. Thank you for being proud of me and letting me know it in your own way.
I love you forever.
Jorge E. Bernal
October 1, 1945 – January 12, 2010
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