It’s a conversation I can’t delay, but I’m really dreading it. The little girl part of me doesn’t want to deal with my Papi dying, but the woman knows this needs to be done.
I still so worried about money. I feel so lonely. I feel like I’ll never have strong company in this struggle of mine, this sweet freedom struggle. Girlfriends are great, but I need strong male support in my life, and I simply have never had it, don’t know what it feels like, have no concept of what it means to me, other than this seemingly unattainable blessing.
I am feeling as though I will never, ever, ever get to a pure happy place. This thing with my father is hanging over my head… and there’s nothing I can do to change it.
With my father gone, I wonder how my relationships with men will change.
Last year, just before I gave up my San Juan flat, I went to see my father. It was in the middle of the drama with my former spiritual mother, and the worst of the attacks against me by my enemies.
I hadn’t seen my father in almost a year, and when I walked in, he does what he always does… he didn’t really react. I came in and sat down, and he lay on the floor in front of the tiny television, and I started to tell him about what I was going through.
He jumped up and said, “You don’t need to tell me anymore. I already know.”
He walked straight to the huge room divider he had built when I was a baby, as though he knew exactly what he was looking for and where it was, when he found it he came to me. He reached out and took my hand and put a silver band on my ring finger.
“Do not take it off,” he said sternly. “DO NOT TAKE IT OFF.”
I looked down and say the delicate flowers in the design.
“Do not take it off until a man replaces it with his own ring.”
And on my finger it remains.
Okay… I’m going to call him now. (Grimaces.)