If My Dad Died

My parents are so different from each other that now that I know them both so well as individuals and not just as parents, I have absolutely no clue how they ever dated, much less fell in love and got married. They met playing tennis, of course, but my dad doesn’t even play anymore, though apparently he was really good. [insert “I guess we’ll never know” TikTok sound]. It’s kind of nice that he’s not all about tennis because my mom and her side of the family is all about it. I can guarantee that not a single human loves tennis more than my mother — it brings her literally so much joy. I, however, have a love/hate relationship with it and lately it’s been mostly hate. But anyway, that’s another story for another day. Today, I wanted to share a little more about my dad and our relationship. It’s something that I have not been the proudest of but for so long I just avoided even dealing with it. So here we go:

My dad’s name is Ernesto and he is a doctor. An OBGYN, to be exact. Actually, quite a few members of that side of the family are in that line of profession and now that I am writing this and gathering my thoughts for this, I’m realizing that it made me resent doctors and hospitals in general. My dad is more my friend than my dad these days because I’m allegedly a grown up now and for most of my life, I lived with my mom after the divorce, so it was really her that did most of the parenting. It wasn’t always a great relationship between my dad and I. If you know me, you know that I’m sassy, angsty and above all, very opinionated. I was probably not even a year old when my parents divorced, so I don’t really know much about them as a couple or the issues that led them to split. But like I said before, they have nothing in common now. I wish I could see each of them through the other’s eyes to understand how they even came together, but i digress. Like I was saying, I don’t really have bad or toxic memories of the divorce or custody issues or anything like that. My life was perfect. We lived in Mexico and my four grandparents always stepped in to help and in retrospect, I think that shielded me from seeing anything going on with my parents, if there even was anything going on. So shout out to my grandparents for that. My dad was obviously early on in his medical career and he had to do a lot of overnight shifts. I would always get upset when he couldn’t be there on holidays or when he had to leave right after dinner for night shifts and when he came back in the mornings, I never understood why he was so tired.

One thing that my parents do have in common is that they are the hardest workers I know and I can only dream of being that disciplined or dedicated in my world. When I was 6 or 7, my mom found out that the company she worked at was filing for bankruptcy and being bought by another company. The company buying it was in Kentucky and they offered her a temporary 6-month position in Louisville, of all places. She went planning on it being just 6 months but it turned out to be a permanent thing instead. Back then it didn’t really make much sense to me and I don’t think I really understood why it was happening or what it actually meant. When her 6 months were up and she realized that she was going to permanently move there, she brought me with her. That meant that I wouldn’t be living in the same city or even country as my dad or grandparents. Shit, no one from our family lived in that city. I had grown up going to private, bilingual school and luckily had a little understanding of English but I was not fluent by any means. Moving to Kentucky with my mom would end up changing my life forever.

Until recently, I had never really thought about how my dad must have felt in that situation. When I moved to Kentucky, we tried to talk on the phone every Sunday along with my grandparents and uncle but long distance is hard in any capacity and back then, international phone time was not as accessible or affordable. Sometimes my dad would miss our weekly time slot and I would just talk to my grandparents and that made me really sad. It made me feel like he had better things to do and didn’t care about me. My memory is not the clearest of this time and I think that it’s because I have subconsciously blocked or suppressed it from my memories because it’s associated with painful feelings. I was so angry at my dad at times and I was too young to understand or even consider his perspective. We all agree that we could have tried harder on both ends to make it work better but at that point in time, I was adamant that he had to make things right.

He’ll be the first person to tell you that he is not perfect and I’ll be the first to tell you that as much as I try, I know I’m not either. Back then, I didn’t have the emotional intelligence to even try to begin to comprehend what he could be thinking or feeling. Also, I have never had children and therefore have no idea what it’s like to have to live in a different country than them. His whole life was there and moving to the states was not an option for him. He really had no say in if I could go or not and I was always closer with my mom so if the choice had been mine, then I think that I naturally would have chosen to go with her.

For many of my teenage years, I truly resented him. It got difficult to talk about my life especially since he had no idea what it was like. He didn’t know anyone I was talking about and he probably never would. I remember one time my grandma called me and in the middle of our conversation my dad walked in and wanted to talk to me but I didn’t want to so I just hung up. I wished that we could just live in the same place or even just closer. Kentucky is not a very central hub that has a ton of flights out and getting to Ciudad Juárez was no walk in the park either. It felt like everything was against us. Fortunately, because I am ultra emotional, I have learned to be more in tune with emotions in general and have matured enough to understand and appreciate the choices that my parents made. My dad and I have a much better relationship now and it only keeps getting better. I can tell him anything and even if he does judge me, he never tells me. He advises me when I need it and he jokes with me in the right moment. This is something that I never thought I would be able to have when I was growing up, and for that I am so grateful.

My dad married an incredible woman that compliments his personality beautifully. A woman that has been nothing short of incredible with me and has always been respectful of my mom. A woman that I am proud to call my step mom and more importantly, my friend. She gave me two of the greatest humans in my life, my two “baby” brothers Axel and Diego, as well as an infinite amount of pets! Thought we all know Puka and Dexter are my favorites… I mean look at their sweet faces!!

It was around this time last year that I received a call from her. Typically, we communicate exclusively on WhatsApp call or text, though almost always through text. It was a Friday and I was in Michigan visiting Aaron where it was snowing (shocker!) when the phone rang. I don’t know if I’ve ever answered a call faster than I did that day because as soon as I saw her name pop up on my phone, I knew something had to be really bad, especially because it came through as a regular phone call. I remember feeling my heart sink to my stomach when she couldn’t even get through a sentence without crying. She was finally able to tell me that my dad was admitted to the hospital and that he had heart and kidney failure. I didn’t really even know what that meant but I knew he had preexisting health conditions and that both heart and kidney failure combined could not be good news in any scenario.

I don’t remember much from after that call other than calling my boss immediately to let him know I had to go to Mexico. He, of course, told me to get on the first flight out and not to worry about work. Aaron lives in a city that doesn’t have a ton of people and therefore doesn’t have as many flights per day. Typically, there was one in the morning and one in the early evening but that was only on weekdays and I had missed the last one. On weekends, they only had one a day and it was usually in the late afternoon. It was so frustrating because I couldn’t even drive somewhere else to get out of there because there was horrible weather due to snow. I felt like I was gonna have a meltdown. No— I was fully having a meltdown. On top of everything, I had traveled to Michigan without my passport because I didn’t want to lose it and I wasn’t going to need it.

This meant that my trip couldn’t be from Michigan to Mexico, but rather, Alpena to Detroit, Detroit to JFK, get passport from home, JFK to Mexico City, and Mexico City to Ciudad Juárez. The trip was like 20 hours in total and there were so many things that could go wrong. My friends went to my apartment and fished out my passport, picked me up at one terminal and drove me to the other terminal to catch my international flight. I had to buy extra clothes at the airport because I only had my Michigan weekend clothes with me. It was a shitshow but the worst part was not knowing if my dad was going to be alive by the time I got there. I rarely have trouble sleeping, particularly on planes, but this time I was so stressed and nervous about everything that I couldn’t sleep. I looked like absolute dog shit and felt even worse. You all know that I am a huge control freak and let me tell you that nothing in this situation was even remotely in my control. The only thing I could do was try to get there as quickly as possible and hope that everything else worked out.

I got to Ciudad Juárez and my step mom and brother picked me up. We walked slowly to the car and tried to keep ourselves together. My dad was in the ICU and there were all kinds of restrictions around visitation because it was the ICU and of course because of fucking Covid. None of that mattered, though, because I made it. He was alive and I made it in time. On the flights down there, I tried to stay positive but I also took time to walk through the absolute worst case scenario. I knew that there was a chance he could die. I knew that there was a chance that he wouldn’t die but his quality of life would never be the same. I didn’t know if he was going to be able to continue to work. I didn’t know how bad of shape he was going to be in and much less how his spirits were going to be. I knew that my step mom had been trying so hard to keep it together for the rest of the family but that she needed to let it all out. One day when we were going to the hospital, just her and I, we got on the elevator and before the door even closed she had collapsed into my arms as she started weeping. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to see but I was so happy that I could be there for her in that moment. I know that it was killing her to keep faking it and putting on a good face.

It was also super hard to see my dad laying on a hospital bed rather than operating next to it. It was kind of like a mind fuck because whenever I thought of him and hospitals it was always him in control of an operating room or his private practice. Seeing him laying there in a room with other patients in critical care was so hard and seeing him trying to doctor his way into getting more information was tough to see as well. I think that what they say about doctors being the worst patients is true because he wanted all the info in his chart! To be fair, the actual doctors were difficult to get time with and wouldn’t tell us everything. But anyway, it was nice to see him have the energy to get mad at the doctors rather than the alternative of not seeing him at all.

My stepmom and I spent hours upon hours at the hospital. I truly tested my ability to fall asleep anywhere because the chairs were so uncomfortable and it was just an uncomfortable situation all together. We could only have two people in the waiting room so sometimes we would try to sneak my brothers in to be with us. My dad was doing better but it wasn’t very fast. He spent a total of 10 days in the hospital and most of those were in the ICU. It was awful and so incredibly stressful. It was obviously hard because of what the situation was but I remember thinking on the plane like what if he dies? Am I satisfied with the relationship we have built? Will I still go visit my step mom and brothers if he’s not there? They were awful questions that I never imagined I would be asking myself at this point in my life but there I was, trying to prepare for the worst.

Because I lived in Kentucky from age 7 onwards, I wasn’t around my stepmom or my brothers much growing up. Axel is the older one and we spent some time together but Diego and I spent virtually no time together. Ironically enough, Diego and I have probably the most in common, not like in terms of preferences but just in the way we are and the way we think. Maybe we inherited that from our dad because there is no way we could have influenced each others behavior.

Even though Diego and I were more similar, growing up I felt closer to Axel because 1) I spent more time with him and 2) I tend to gravitate towards people that are not like me. Axel has the sweetest and purest heart. He puts every single person before himself and he is happy to do it. He is so disciplined and studious and just naturally smart. He is the most sensitive out of all of us and I love that so much about him. I very clearly favored him growing up. In more recent years, Diego and I have gotten closer just because of how similar we are. We both have an unhealthy obsession with Bad Bunny and eat our food the same way and react to stress and trauma very similarly. Diego is more mysterious because he keeps his cards close to his chest and doesn’t give you anything if he doesn’t want to. Growing up he had a girlfriend for years and we knew nothing about it. He is unapologetically himself and I respect that so much. I definitely don’t have a favorite now but I find myself smiling whenever I think about either one of them or both at the same time. It’s hard for me to comprehend how much love I feel for them even though we really aren’t as close as siblings tend to be.

It was because we didn’t spend a ton of time together growing up that made my dad’s hospital visit particularly interesting. We hadn’t really gone through something so severe together and at that time, I didn’t really know what they wanted or expected from me or how they would best respond. When people are in the hospital and in critical condition, it’s hard to know how optimistic you can be and it’s a struggle having to wordsmith the updates you’re giving the rest of your family and friends. My stepmom, Veranda, is usually in full on mom mode and wants to protect everyone but she knows that I value the truth above all, regardless of how awful it may be or make me feel. I knew everything about my dad and Veranda helped me feel like we were making decisions together even though it was really up to her.

Though the circumstances were obviously not ideal, my dad’s health scare brought us all closer together. Remember those worst case scenario questions I was asking myself? Well, thankfully it never got to that point but it did make me question what I would have done if he had died. Death doesn’t scare me because it is a part of life but untimely or unexpected death is hard for me to deal with. Was I satisfied with the relationship I had with my dad and his side of the family? The answer was absolutely not.

I spent many years blaming my dad for not calling at the same time every week and for just not reaching out enough. I felt like he didn’t want me to be part of his life and while I know that that’s not the case at all, that’s how I was interpreting his actions. My dad and I have an incredible relationship now but it’s still something we work at constantly. I realized that it was useless to point fingers because while I do wish he had reached out more, nothing was really stopping me from doing the same. It’s like at work when they say manage your manager. Sure, the adult in the situation should be taking the lead but it’s your life too and letting them know how their actions are making you feel will only help them change their actions. Similarly, I could put myself in my dad’s shoes and think that maybe I don’t want to know about his “new” life without me. Sometimes step parents and siblings are not that well received. But instead of living in the would have, could have, should have, we have both moved on.

We don’t speak every week still but we do text more often. We have a family group chat and sometimes it’s just me and Veranda talking but my dad and brothers read the messages. I’ve realized (through my job) that we all give and receive information in different ways and we cannot just expect everyone to always accommodate to our preferred styles. When my brothers need me, they reach out separately if they don’t want their parents to know. Diego and I share songs that we think the other may like and Axel confides in me for relationship conversations. I won’t say relationship advice because that’s the blind leading the blind there! We are a unique little family and I’m just so happy that they have let me in and allowed me to be part of their world. Is it perfect? No. Do we see each other often? Absolutely not often enough. But what I love about us is that we are trying and we are doing our best and understand that our best is different on any given day. I grew up as a very spoiled only child so to be given the chance to share my life with half brothers later on in life has been an absolute blessing. I’m upset that my dad let his health slip to the point of having an ICU staycation but if it happened and it brought us all closer together, then so be it. I feel like we needed that reminder or shock therapy to realize that time is finite and cannot be bought. I love our perfectly imperfect family.

Hug your loved ones while you have them.

xo Marn