Hoy es un dia muy especial para mi

One year ago today my dad, perfectly healthy, entered an operating room to undergo voluntary (but strongly suggested by the doctor) brain surgery. Although the tumor they removed was benign, it was too large and his brain collapsed on itself, paralyzing him during the surgery. He never regained his ability to swallow, speak or move his right side. Twenty-four days later, my dad died.

Last night marked one year since I'd heard his voice. Strangely, I was in a Bed, Bath & Beyond during the final "good luck, I love you" call before the operation. Today, I couldn't help but think of him and wish that somehow there was more language for grieving in English, more open channels of communication, more universal rituals in place in our American culture to better express my feelings.

I have always been drawn to Mexican culture, and one of the main reasons is the openess about death and dying. Lleve a mi hermanito a Calle Olvera el octubre pasado para ver la celebracion del Dia de los Muertos. It was cathartic for us both to witness others openly communicating with their loved ones not still here on Earth.

Having no real religion to subscribe to, I turn to the wisdom of great Buddhist thinkers, and the beauty of the setting sun. When I am really missing my dad, so badly that I start to cry, I make a point to walk out to the beach at sunset and say, "Hello, Dad." Sunset orange and Carolina blue were his favorite colors.