About my father...

My memory might fail me, but I think it had been a year or more since my dad had died. I was on the bus, riding from Callao y Santa Fe towards where we used to live, Congreso. Behind me sat two older gentlemen engrossed in the kind of conversation that older people have: about things past, how they were and how much everything has changed.

At some point, one of them asked his friend if he remembered Dr. Neumayer, the physician who had established a swimming record back in I don't remember what year. My heart filled with pride, as I tried my hardest to hear what these men had to say... and it seemed to be nothing but praise.

What sticks most in my mind is that it was a moment in time when it was confirmed in my head that my dad had indeed been a "great one". And, for some reason, it is the voice of strangers that provides you with the most conviction when your memory is clouded by what life had been like at home. Personal failings aside, he had earned the respect of many, and although they never saw him crying and screaming for my mother on the floor of our living room, in their eyes he was a greater man than many others.

I don't have any particular feelings about this at the moment, as a matter of fact I feel a bit numb. I have had my moments when I held him up in a pedestal, and my moments when I wanted to change my name, so as not to carry his with me. I now don't know what I feel. Loving with all abandon can leave you open for disappointment, loving above all failings can make you feel foolish, and loving with restraint can make it feel less real. God knows I want to love him, but I just don't know how.

G