The decision
Finally the caterpillar was giving way to the butterfly: maturity was glimpsed as a promising and bright landscape. With that attitude of feeling that only the sky was the limit, I filled out a form to apply for a scholarship at a Spanish university to do a master's degree in literature. I did all this in secret from my parents, not because I thought they would not support me, but because I thought I would surprise them.
Well, they are not selecting me yet, I told them trying not to be so optimistic.
"Well, you will get it,” Dad assured them, always having more faith in me than I had in myself.
At the beginning of August, I go on vacation to another state in Venezuela. As was my custom when I was away, I called home twice a day to hear from my parents. On the morning call, I sensed that my mom was sad and I asked her what was wrong:
_Your dad didn't sleep last night in severe pain. - She told me and then changed the conversation.
I don't remember what I did that day. I imagine I had fun, went to the movies, to the theater, shopping. What you normally do when you go on vacation to big cities. Then in the evening, when I called, my mother gave me the news:
_We went to the doctor and your dad's kidneys are collapsed: your dad is on the verge of death so he needs to be dialyzed urgently.
My dad, when he found out, forced me to accept: he didn't want to feel guilty about that decision, but I was clear:
_That decision I'm not making it for you, I'm making it for me because I would be very unhappy if something happens to you and I'm not by your side. So forget it: case closed.
After that, over the years, I did my master's degree here in Venezuela and after 12 years on dialysis, my dad, my great hero, passed away.
Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had gone to Spain, if I had decided to follow my dreams, if that hunger to live and to know would have been greater than love. Maybe I would be working in a Spanish university or publishing house, writing books, attending important events, eating cheeses, olives and Serrano ham, or maybe not; maybe I would be a sad woman who regrets not having been with her father until the end. So it's a good thing I stayed. ❤
The images are from my personal gallery and the text was translated with Deepl
This is my participation this week for our great friend @ericvancewalton's initiative: Memoir monday. If you want to participate, here's the link to the invitation post