AlieneilA

Jaime Rosales

On April 8, 2013, the world became an emptier place. We lost someone who may not have made a great impact on the world, but the world is definitely worse off without him. He wasn’t a celebrity who is getting mass media attention with reports on how greatly they impacted the world from being on T.V., or a grand political figure who changed the course of history… but I do believe that if the world had known him, everyone would be mourning the loss as equally as I. So no, you may not have ever heard of him, but to me he was, is, and always will be, My Father and My Hero.

I was 11 years old when I met Jaime Ramon Rosales for the first time, and I can’t say that my memory serves me as to the day or the exact thoughts I had about him, but as any kid probably would… I remember the first toy he got me. It was a remote controlled truck that he bought me for Christmas. I hadn’t actually met him yet when I received the toy, but my mom brought it home for me, and I liked him just because he had bought me something cool. It was a time after that when we first actually met. Despite the cool toy, oh did I hate him way back when he and my mother first got together. Looking back, it was more of a jealousy. Here was a man that I now had to share my mother with. Again, I don’t remember the details of those first days meeting him for the first time, but I can say that since the day he came into my life, I truly believe that I have been made a better person by him.

He was a small 5′ 2″ tall Spanish man with an accent that I could barely understand from Puyo, Ecuador. A place I had never heard of before then. Though when I was 15 my parents sent me to Ecuador to live for 10 months. When I returned I could speak Spanish pretty good, and I think that helped bridge a bond between my dad and me. I look at the picture to the left, and I can’t help but think about that awesome time of my life. He went with me when I first travelled down there on the long trip from Florida to Puyo, and then later on he and my mother came to visit me for my birthday. The picture is from one of those trips. I’d have to say, that up until this last year, I don’t think he ever looked any older or any different than in that picture… and it was taken around 1993.

He was never strict, I don’t think I ever remember him even spanking me. I can still hear the way he would say my name when I had done something wrong though. He wouldn’t yell, he was never quick to anger… or at least never showed any anger, he was always kind and gentle and always would just talk to me. And let me tell you, the kind of mischief I used to get in to required a lot of talking. “Josh…”

There were the usual things you would see from a kid with a step-father, me telling him that he wasn’t my dad and to leave me alone. The trouble I caused him and my mother angers me today, as it has for years now since I grew up and gained some responsibility and insight. I don’t think I ever apologized to him, but I hope he knows it now. I was never the best son a father could hope to have, but I pray that at least once in my life that I had made him proud of me. He tried his best to teach me right from wrong, and eventually I did finally grow up and his words from all of those years finally sunk in.

He always worked so hard. At work, at home, around the yard. I don’t think I ever can remember a time that I saw him sitting around and doing nothing… except when he had a 40. I long for just one more of those days with him. A time where he and I could sit together, before he got sick. Just one more day to go to the store and buy a 40oz cheapo bottle of beer, come home and just sit and talk, watching him smile and laugh as the alcohol relaxed him. You see, my father was never a drinker, never a smoker either to my knowledge. But once in a blue moon, back when I was younger, he and I would just sit outside and drink a 40 and smoke cigarettes. Just relaxing and talking and laughing.

The last few years, I didn’t spend as much time with my dad as I could, and should, have. Since I was a teen I was always independent, after that life took me away, work kept me busy, interests clashed. Not a clashing of bad blood, just things like… He loved his animals… horses, dogs, goats, cats, chickens, ducks… he was a farm life kinda guy. Even though I think he got tired of all of the hard work the farm life brought with it the last couple of years, I still think he was happy to be a part of all that. Me on the other hand, labor work is a virus to me. I am a computer geek. Put me in a dark room with my laptop, some junk food, and stuff to drink, and I’m content. For my dad however, give him some flowers to plant or a duck to feed, and he enjoyed it. I will never know where he got the energy, or understand his motivation for the life he chose, but as long as he was happy that is all that matters. Lord knows he worked his ass off.

I think my mom gave him more work sometimes than what he would have liked… she starts on new projects before she’s even finished with other ones. But my dad always was right there for her. I once asked him, “Dad, why don’t you just tell mom no sometimes?”. His reply, “Because it makes her happy, and I Love Her.”. That was all that mattered, that she was happy. His love for her was completely unconditional, and I believe that if one day my mom said “Hey, let’s just go drive off a cliff.”, he would have grabbed her hand, gave her a kiss, and said, “Let’s go Kitty.” Kitty was his pet name for my mom. I have no clue where it came from, but as far back as I can remember he always called her that.

More recent years hadn’t been too kind on him. A few years ago he had a heart attack and had to have a quadruple bypass. He was diagnosed with Parkinsons, which eventually led to him constantly shaking. And then last year we found out that he had cancer. I thought for sure that he’d be able to beat it. He was strong willed, constantly in shape from his constant state of working, and heck… it was in a place that at the time I didn’t think would have fatal effects, his jaw. I wont detail out the long battle the last year and a half or so has been for him, but I can say that he is one man that did not deserve all of the pain and suffering he had to go through.

Last Monday, April 1st of all days, I found out that his health had took a turn for the worse. A turn that he wasn’t going to be coming back from. I was able to spend a few hours with him alone, and even though he wasn’t speaking anymore, and was mostly incoherent when he did, there was one moment where he opened his eyes and looked at me. I told him I Love You Dad, and he replied… I Love You, I Love You. He then closed his eyes, and those were the last words I heard him speak.

Dad, I am sorry that I wasn’t around more like I should have been. I am sorry for not spending more time with you over the years. But I hope above all that you know that I Love You, and that you are and always will be My Hero. You are the best man I have ever met in my life, you were always so wonderful with everyone, such a hard worker, and you were such a great father. None of your teachings were for naught, I swear it’s all in here somewhere. When it is my time to leave this world, I hope that I can measure up to even a fraction of the person you were. Please watch over mom, hold her hand when she needs it, and comfort her in any way you can. I pray all that you are finally at peace with your family, watching down on all of us… and finally relaxing.

I Love You Dad, I Love You.