When I think of my father I get sad…Why do I remember the pain, the sadness in his eyes. Why do I focus on his suffering, instead of remembering his passions and how happy they made him. Why do I think of how life let him down, and him never complaining about it? Why do I wish he could have had more, given all that he sacrificed. He put away any wants for himself and sacrificed everything including dignity to survive…

When I think of my father I remember his eyes…the knowledge and power behind a fading facade. His life had begun to drain before he began to experience it. His father whom he loved and cherished, passed before his time. His beloved mother with whom he held the highest respect…died at also too soon. He had an underlying ability to feel empathy.

When I think of my father I remember how proud he was…Not about himself, but everything and everyone. He could make his daughter feel guilty because I felt that I did not deserve his credit. His achievements in the kitchen were never thwarted by my lack of enthusiasm…”have some of my stomach (tripe) soup!!!It is delicious…Come on have some, at least try it!”
All I did was complain of the smell and make fun of him, in a half serious way, he loved when I joked on him. He had a wonderful sense of humor! Although his jokes sometimes were lost in translation. Life gets lost in translation, along with love.

When I think of my father I remember how much he loved life… He never got to see any of it, and his desires were so great, his dreams were so large. I pray now he can begin to see. I pray God grants him serenity.

It is amazing what a picture can hold.

It has been 7 months and 13 days since I lost my father. It feels like yesterday. I think about him everyday and I pray to God for a sign from him…In the mean while I have my memories and a few photographs.

There is this one picture that I see everyday.

It hangs in my “inspiration room”, a place I decorated with beautiful books, pictures, cards with special sayings and anything that I treasure. This picture, it was taken about three years ago. He is sitting in the passenger seat of my car, he looks content. He is gazing towards me but the camera catches his gaze to the left.

This picture is a mystery, every time I look at it I catch a different expression. Sometimes there is so much happiness behind those eyes, sometimes sadness, sometimes joy and sometimes pain. I ask to myself why couldn’t I have just caught him looking at me? Looking into the camera, so as I to see him looking into my eyes. Just one more look into his.

You stare at something for so long, each time seeing something new. A picture can hold a thousand words, but it holds a thousand expressions as well. I wonder if I reflect myself into the picture or maybe it is the magnitude of a persons reflection. Either way it is still just a picture and I am still waiting for my sign.