Closure, Pt. 3

A secret conversation (77/365)

For a story that I’ve told probably a hundred times, you would think that I should have it under control. I do not. I still wince most of the time I share it, even after ten years.

Just a couple of weeks ago, at the workshop I ran in Wisconsin, I had trouble ending it with perfect composure.

I think that this is due not to the contents of the story, but to its immutable consequences.

Here it is.

(Suggestion: read Part 1 & Part 2 of this series before reading this)

Vivi and I started our honeymoon in Peru. We toured the country for almost two weeks, and then flew to Miami to end the trip with a small cruise through the Caribbean.

Our first stop was in Nassau. We got off the ship and went into the first Starbucks to get a coffee.

While there, I called my mom just to say hi.

My sister answered my Mom’s phone.

Hey…

Hey! What are you doing with Mom’s phone?

Then, my Mom took the phone, and said the following words:

Your father fell in a coma. I’m going to put the phone close to his ear so that you can say goodbye.

I can’t remember what did I say.

I do remember what we did next:

We have to get back home.

If you read Mondoli you know that I have a lot of pride in my memory.

Those next hours, though, are a big blur.

Here’s what I remember.

We went to the ship to pick our stuff up.

We bought tickets from Nassau to Miami, from Miami to Mexico City, from Mexico City to Monterrey.

We disembarked.

We took a cab to the airport.

Then, flights, with Vivi by my side.

I also remember lots of calls and messages with my family between flights.

How’s he doing?

Still the same.

Now?

The same.

We slept for three hours at a hotel in Mexico City’s Terminal 1, and then took the first flight to Monterrey the next day, March 18, 2015.

I took a shower, and sped to the hospital, ready for whatever would going to happen.

And what happened?

I told Dad many things that I won’t share here, except for this:

I told him that he was going to become a Grandfather.

He passed the next day.

The first thing I did after this was texting Mario, our wedding photographer:

Hey, do you have some of the pics you took of my Dad and me?

---

Thanks for reading.

#day77