The older I get the more I look like my dad. Sometimes when I catch my reflection in a mirror as I am walking down the street I see him and not me.
The high forehead. The pronounced and not very hairy eyebrows. The deep set eyes that could so easily be surrounded by dark circles at the slightest absence of sunlight on my face. The big imperfect nose. The big ears that suddenly feel like they continue to grow at a time when the rest of my body has stopped that process. Even the tone of my voice has started to remind me of my old man.
Dad passed away in 92 as I was sitting by his hospital bedside holding his hand. Best gift I have ever received. His passing forever changed the course of my life.
I was/am an only son of a seamstress/party girl mother and big band singer/barber father. Growing up in with these two characters was so many different things, some of which were not great but some were absolutely magical.
It was my dad whom as soon as I was able to stand on my own two feet, would have me stand on his shoes and grab on to his legs while he summoned my mom to come join him as they partner danced to the most rhythmic of sounds that was emanating from the cheap record player in the living-room of our one bedroom apartment in Havana. Orquesta Aragon was playing and the vibe was good. I remember laughing and bopping up and down as they danced with me in the middle. I knew how to dance before I could even walk.
It was my dad who would whistle everyday as he entered the house so as to announce - just for me - his arrival. To this day whenever I hear that very specific puckered-lips soft whistle I can envision my dad coming through the front door of our home in Vedado, Havana Cuba.
It was my dad who taught me how to always be well dressed. He taught me how to maintain the center pleats on my pants. Always fold or hang your clothes when you take them off. He taught me that a comb should always live in my front shirt or coat pocket so as to stay perfectly combed at all time.
Dad taught me multiplication tables the year that he walked me to and from kindergarten every day.
He taught me how to play the bongos, el guiro, las maracas and las claves.
He introduced me - through old films - to the great Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, Yvette Mimieux, Gina Lollobrigida, Burt Lancaster and Tony Curtis and taught me respect for the artists and their work.
It was my dad whom with tears in is eyes after my first ballet dance recital in Miami at the age of 16, told me that I had talent and that I must never give up. He also told me that opportunity would always knock and my job is to always be ready.
He made me my first drink - rum and coke - and I had my first drink with him.
He showed me with his actions that we are all equal in life and that no one deserves to be treated with anything less that kindness compassion and acceptance.
My dad suffered with Lou Gehrig's disease for many years. Lou Gehrig's disease - or ALS - is a disorder that slowly destroys all motor function, leaving the intellect and rational intact. Think of it as sort of a human cell. Quite ironic for a man who had lived his entire life free as a bird.
I knew I was gay at an early age and as for my mother's urging I was never to tell my dad. "It will kill him " she said. Keep in mind hat we are Cubans after all and drama is the fire that fuels our way of life.
By the time I mustered enough courage to come out to my dad, he had lost his ability to speak in words. However words were not necessary for me to see how he felt about my big secret.
As I started to reveal my truth to him, he began to smile. As I continue my confession, tears started to roll down his cheeks. By the end all he could do was lift his arms up, signaling with his hands for me to come in for a hug. As he held me tighter than he ever had in his fatherly embrace he struggled to uttered these words:
"Te quiero mi hijo"
These were not exactly enunciated words but a collection of beautiful distorted sounds that I will forever cherish.
I think of my dad every day. Lately I have been really wanting to sit down and talk to him. On this particular Father's Day, I not only want to honor him, but I feel the need to share him with you. If you know me, you now know me a little bit more intimately. If you don't know me, I want you to know my dad cause he was a man worth knowing and if you ever meet me, try and picture him through me.
In the years since my fathers passing, I have gone through a profound transformation that has absolutely revolutionized the person I was and allow me to start to become the man I am today. I continue to grow with complete confidence and trust that though I may not be able to sit down and talk to my dad in person, in my heart my old man and I will forever be in constant dialogue. I am who am I am because of my dad.
Feliz dia de los padres mi viejo. Te quiero siempre. Gracias por todo!
