90°
I was always daddy’s little girl. Hand in hand, we strolled the streets of my hometown Union City and beyond. When he retired, I sort of retired along with him. I was in my early 20s, he was sick, and it was my mission to be by his side. I was 23 when he lost the battle.
I never really had the chance to say “Goodbye, I love you.” I mean I did, every day of our lives together. I just didn’t seize those final moments to tell him how proud I was of him, and that I would carry all the things he taught me about life forever.
Those last two days, I froze with the fear and finality.
And although he couldn’t speak, he gestured for a pen and paper. His hands trembled as he struggled to write, his fingers too swollen to hold the pen. Scratches were all he could manage.
I look at that paper often and wonder. I imagine what his words would have been: “I love you, I’ll miss you, I’m proud of you”?
My mom worked just as hard as my dad to provide for their four children. Many times she put in long hours, and even Saturdays. I spent more time with my dad, and it was only after his passing did I begin to feel a much deeper bond with my mom.
After his funeral, when things settled and everyone went home, she asked me to sleep in her room. She was terrified of the silence and emptiness.
She and I shared that room for nearly a year, me filling the void he left on his side of the bed. My mom never re-married — that’s the kind of woman she is: a throwback to the good old days, but with a twist of a modern-day gal.
Catalina Perez
Even when I moved to my own place several states away, I was always a phone call or plane ride from home. Our bond grew stronger, mother and daughter loving and missing one another across the miles. I eventually moved back just to be close to her. We still spend Saturdays together shopping, Sundays lounging around drinking coffee. We reminisce of days gone by when we lived in New Jersey.
She tells me stories of her youth, yet I always want to hear the part of how she met my father and fell madly in love. To me, it’s the best romance novel ever written.
She also gives me advice, without ever forcing me to take it. She leaves me to decide what I want to do with that knowledge. She always reassures me with kind words, or a gentle touch of my hand with hers, to let me know everything will be okay.
Funny that today she would tell me words I never heard her say aloud: “You are my sweet loving daughter, my confidant, my best friend, the one I know I can always lean on when I need a shoulder to cry on.”
The words that emerged from her lips, their music like the wind chimes in the backyard, woke me to a reality I’ve been ignoring.
She’s growing older, time is passing, and I must not let the clock tick any further without telling her how much I love her, how much she means the world to me. It is my turn now to speak those words I want to say, let them carry from my lips to her ears, down to her heart.
Cherish your mom, your dad, your sisters, brothers, children, wives and husbands, your friends. Our time here is limited, so hug them, love them, and tell them as often as you possibly can how much they mean to you!
Thanks to my mom and my dad, I can come off as a tough, hard-as-nails Jersey girl who doesn’t need anything from nobody! But the real daughter they raised knows the truth: My heart is made of mush.
So for those who’ve touched me in some way, I just want to say, warmly and clearly: I love you all.
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