My biological father died late June on a plane somewhere between Texas and New Jersey. I didn't find out until he was gone for weeks that he had passed. Why? Because I was a stubborn, stubborn and now very ashamed daughter.
Our story isn't one I readily share. I will not give many details, mainly out of respect but also because it is a part of my life that is very personal. Confusing too. I don't know how to act, react, how to feel, what to say. I don't know much of anything at this point.
He loved me a lot. I found out when I was in my 20's that he was my biological father but he had been around my entire life. We looked exactly alike. There are hundreds of pictures of me at his house, of me on his lap as baby/toddler/young child, kissing him, laughing with him, with my older sisters and us. Hundreds. Most of the pictures of him and I, I am looking right at him. I would ask him, "why do you look like me!". He would say in his beautiful speaking voice, "because when you love someone with all your heart, you start to resemble each other". I would laugh and continue to touch his face that was identical to my own. Same lips, same beauty marks, same nose, same eyes, same feet, same hands and even the way we stand. Straight back, head up and looking like there was always purpose to be in that exact spot. He would walk into any room and it would light up. He had a smile that was infectious, everyone says that we have the same smile. I like to think it is true. I adored him. Until I found out he was my biological father. To be honest I think I figured it out a long time before then. Why else the outpouring of unconditional love from a man who was just a family friend? Why did he love my sisters so much? Which btw, they were not his children. The moment I found out he was my biological father something inside me switched off. I felt betrayed. Cheated. What about my beloved father that I grieve and miss daily? What about him? Is he in heaven feeling like I am betraying him? I was lost. There were so many other factors involved that left me reeling. It was too much to absorb so I retreated.
We spoke a few times a year, I would visit him when I was in town, he would write me letters and always tell me how much he loved me. My entire life he would call me honeydew, my pretty, mi nina linda and Romita. I loved him. I loved him more than I thought I did. The last few days I realized that loving him was not a betrayal to anyone. Our situation hurt him even more than it did me. I was too selfish to realize it. He lived knowing he had a daughter that he loved more than anything else in the world and she refused to accept him as her father. Once I found out who he really was, I stopped calling him by any name. Prior to that I called him Tio, which is Spanish for uncle. Once I knew he was my father, I didn't call him anything. I was an asshole. What would it have cost me to call him dad? Nothing. Nothing. I thought I had time though. I thought that we had time to fix our relationship. I thought I had time to call him dad. I was so damn wrong.
One of our last conversations, I asked him if I was his biggest sin. He said to me "no, mi nina...you are my greatest blessing".
My father died January 1, 1984.
My father died June 28, 2011.
My heart is broken. I have no idea if I will ever be the same. I asked my husband today if he ever thought I would be completely happy again and he said, "yes, of course!". I don't know thought, I don't know if he is right. Who is ever going to love me as much as my father did? Who is going to call me Romita again? Did he die knowing I loved him? God, I would give 10 years off my life for 3 minutes with him. I would beg forgiveness for the years I was stubborn and difficult. I would tell him I loved him, that he never left my prayers, that I was proud to be his daughter. I would call him dad. Over and over again.
I am fighting with publishing this. It is so personal, but you know...I am tired of keeping quiet. My silence in all this has become my cross to bear. My back is growing weak, and my heart is broken...I can no longer carry this burden. I have nothing to hide.
I have had two amazing men call me their daughter. I loved them both. I am my fathers daughter.
love, Romy
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