Dear Libier,

Today is 3/2/22. A day after your dead dad’s could’ve been, 76th birthday. Yesterday was tough on you and I am so sorry. Part of the day you were so happy to think of your dad in heaven celebrating his birthday with God and with an Angelic Mariachi. You were pumped to feel the excitement to bake the cake you baked him on his last birthday on earth. You had it all mapped out in your head. We’ll pick up the chocolate bits, get the girls from school, come home, make some bom-a-double-snake, chocolate cake with homemade caramel sauce and with that bom-a-double-snake cake, we’ll celebrate Abuelito’s could’ve been, 76th birthday, with the girls and family and whoever else wants to come over and eat cake.

Wrong.

What you didn’t know Liber, is that all the feelings of intense grief would rise up within you like a wave of hot emotion overcome with anger that you’re making a cake for someone who is dead. The grief of having so much celebration in your heart yet your dad being gone and you’re not able to even give it to him is some kind of pain you’ve never experienced before. A grief so deep it swells up with a burst of emotions you can’t even comprehend. Hey, we were literally just singing, baking a cake. Where did all this heartache come from?

I know your heart hurt from not being able to give him his favorite gift ever. A cologne. I don't know how many bottles of cologne you actually gave your dad when he was alive. Maybe a million? I think that’s correct. He loved it and it was his favorite gift. And I am sure he has a solid heavenly collection now in Heaven!

I am so sorry this is so stinking hard. I am sorry it’s all trapped in you and it’s hard to explain how you feel. I’m so sorry this hurts so bad. I am so sorry you miss him so much already and then a stupid day where you were supposed to celebrate his birthday comes and it’s another piercing reminder he is gone.

It makes so much sense that you’d be hurting. You loved him so very much. And if this grief is the exchange for having loved him, it is worth it. To have impact the good anyway that he imparted onto you. It’s worth having known, even for just 10 years, what it felt like having a sober dad who became an amazing abuelito to your girls. It was worth it to see him pushing them on a swing. Or have coffee and talk about Jesus in the kitchen every Friday. It was worth it to see him trying to do things that you’d never seen him do, like ride a bike with you and your family. It was worth it to dance with him, no matter what space you were in. All the smiles and kind words are still in you from him. His spirit and love and the impact he left in your heart are still with you.

Remember him always. Don’t ever stop talking about him on earth. Hidden in those memories are the good feelings you’re scared you’ll lose. And never waste your pain. Put it into a painting, or a written piece, or a song. Don’t waste your pain! Direct it in a fruitful way that will help you heal and give you a tangible to show you how strong you can be in God’s strength!

Until I see you in Heaven dad, I will forever dance and live my life to honor you. Thank you for everything you gave me. And all the lessons learned.

Love, Libier