My Mother, My Father, Myself

As I stated in an earlier post, my mother, Blanca passed away earlier this year. And there is not a day that goes by that my father and I do not think about her. After spending three months between hospitals, specialized clinics and finally the San Diego Hospice, 2007 has been a year of loss in many regards.

I've lost my mother, the ability to communicate (as I used to) with my father, my friends in Palm Desert, my dog (he ran away) and to a certain degree, I've lost my freedom. My day begins early, after the coffee is made and I do my rounds of opening windows, checking on the dogs, picking up the newspaper from the front yard, I check on my pop. By that time he is up making his bed (in his own special way). He insists on making his own bed which I consider his a.m. therapy. After he brushes his teeth and does his business he starts his day in the living room with a banana and a glass of grape juice while at the same time switching TV channels between Univision and the KTLA morning show. Afterwards, he does his low impact aerobics (which still makes me crack-up on a daily basis). I will be sure to give a full description of his workout at a later date.

After two cups of freshly brewed coffee, and a shave, we settle down for a light breakfast (of course the term light is not known among most of us of Mexican descent). I usually prepare breakfast; and I try to make his favorites. I do have a housekeeper who comes in three times a week; and usually she will prepare meals on those days.

Outside of this morning routine, the rest of the day has no set routine. Every day is an adventure. The trouble with Jesus is a work in progress, and we are still in the development process.

(Pictured left to right: Mama Blanca, son Ricardo and Papa Jesus on 9-17-06 at the J-Street Marina in Chula Vista, CA)