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2001-06-17

Dad and Rocio

I could tell you about the wonderful weekend I�ve had. I could tell you about sisters laughing, friends partying, seeing a band at a club in Ocean Beach, to after hours with friends at Brick By Brick, to after-after hours. And even more after that. My sister came out with us this weekend, we all had a blast. I could go on forever talking about it, every detail, every smile, every laugh.

But I�d rather tell you about Rocio and my father. Who�s Rocio? I�ll get to that. Father�s Day, all four of Daddy�s girls and one son-in-law gathered for brunch at a favorite local spot. Afterwards, we all went back to Dad�s new pad, where his daughter and her husband lived before they moved into their first house, just a few weeks ago. Shabby is the word that comes to mind. Monastic, mattress on the floor, he�ll have to adjust to all of this new space. I�m sure he�ll make it beautiful. After that, my father and I left the group to go meet Rocio and her family at the train station.

My father is a volunteer for the Make a Wish Foundation, I�m sure I�ve mentioned that before. His job with them is to meet the sick children and their families who have nominated them or been nominated as a whole for a Wish to be granted from the foundation. In these meetings, he is supposed to find out what it is exactly that the CHILD wants, not just the parents or siblings, but the sick child. To make sure it is a sincere wish. After determining the extent of the wish, he presents it to a decision board, and most of the time, they unanimously agree to grant it. Usually, these kids are over 5, old enough to have an idea of what they want, to understand their various conditions, the meaning of life and death.

Rocio is three years old. She has Leukemia. She does not have long to live. In a case like this, my father said the wish is more for the family as a whole, to give them an event, a vacation that they can always look back on in fond memory, a lively excursion in those moments when �lively� is no longer an option. My father and I leaned over the railing while waiting for the train, sharing a soda and laughing about whatever, bantering back and forth, our usual string of repartee. We didn�t know what they looked like, but we had a vague description. A young Mexican-American couple with a 7-year-old boy and a 3-year-old girl. I spotted them first. This was not what I expected.

I expected a sickly child, perhaps even in a wheelchair, an infant almost, helpless and ill. What I encountered was a vivacious and beautiful girl with long, lustrous dark hair, smiling and laughing and asking me to hold her hand. Asking me if there really are monkeys at the zoo. As we went from rental car place to hotel, my father helped get them checked in and set up while I hung with the kids and the mother. She doesn�t speak English, but her children do. We still managed to communicate, laughing and translating through the kids as I answered their many, many questions with a Disney-worthy smile on my face. I showed Rocio my tongue-stud, she seemed to get a kick out of that. Her brother chased her around, both of them laughing and giggling, she too young to know anything else but that: play, fun, love. You could see the love in this family. I could see the weight of knowledge behind the mother�s smiling visage.

They were off, on there own, had their itinerary set, people to help them along the way, their 4-day vacation, their wish. To be able to take Rocio to Sea World, The San Diego Zoo, The Wild Animal Park, and finally, a cruise around the bay. The mother gave me a hug. Rocio gave me a hug. I shook the father�s hand and nudged the boy�s shoulder. I got in the car, and waited until my father and I were a good several miles from the hotel before I broke down in tears. He rushed over to me, asking what was wrong, and I had no words. I just cried and kept saying, �She�s beautiful. They�re all beautiful. I love you, Dad, I�m so lucky, I�m so lucky, I�m so lucky�� and then I couldn�t speak anymore.

Dad dropped me off, he was off to spend his gift certificate for house stuff that he got for Father�s Day from his four daughters. His four healthy, loving daughters. The next time I�m stressed about something as petty as my job, or an argument with my sister, or anything for that matter, I will see the image of a giggling, smiling, shining 3-year-old who knows no �better� than to continue to take happiness as it comes.

I couldn�t think of a better way to put things in perspective than Rocio. I don�t know how my dad does this every week. He really is an angel to many people, I could see it in the parents� eyes, the children�s eyes. And then, after wiping the tears away, in my eyes. Before he pulled away, he said �Today was perfect. I couldn�t have asked for a better way to spend a Father�s Day. If I get hit by an asteroid tonight, know that I will have died a very happy man.� I said, �I�ll be sure to let everyone know.� �But what would you do with my Harley? Who would you give it to?� �Are you kidding me, Dad? I get the fuckin� Harley, I�ll learn to ride it.�

He smiled, said, �you�re too short to ride that bike. Anyway, it�s dangerous,� and pulled away.

-Barbarella

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2007-05-19
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2007-05-16
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Dad and Rocio 2001-06-17 5:19 p.m. I could tell you about the wonderful weekend I�ve had. I could tell you about sisters laughing, friends partying, seeing a band at a club in Ocean Beach, to after hours with friends at Brick By Brick, to after-after hours. And even more after that. My sister came out with us this weekend, we all had a blast. I could go on forever talking about it, every detail, every smile, every laugh.

But I�d rather tell you about Rocio and my father. Who�s Rocio? I�ll get to that. Father�s Day, all four of Daddy�s girls and one son-in-law gathered for brunch at a favorite local spot. Afterwards, we all went back to Dad�s new pad, where his daughter and her husband lived before they moved into their first house, just a few weeks ago. Shabby is the word that comes to mind. Monastic, mattress on the floor, he�ll have to adjust to all of this new space. I�m sure he�ll make it beautiful. After that, my father and I left the group to go meet Rocio and her family at the train station.

My father is a volunteer for the Make a Wish Foundation, I�m sure I�ve mentioned that before. His job with them is to meet the sick children and their families who have nominated them or been nominated as a whole for a Wish to be granted from the foundation. In these meetings, he is supposed to find out what it is exactly that the CHILD wants, not just the parents or siblings, but the sick child. To make sure it is a sincere wish. After determining the extent of the wish, he presents it to a decision board, and most of the time, they unanimously agree to grant it. Usually, these kids are over 5, old enough to have an idea of what they want, to understand their various conditions, the meaning of life and death.

Rocio is three years old. She has Leukemia. She does not have long to live. In a case like this, my father said the wish is more for the family as a whole, to give them an event, a vacation that they can always look back on in fond memory, a lively excursion in those moments when �lively� is no longer an option. My father and I leaned over the railing while waiting for the train, sharing a soda and laughing about whatever, bantering back and forth, our usual string of repartee. We didn�t know what they looked like, but we had a vague description. A young Mexican-American couple with a 7-year-old boy and a 3-year-old girl. I spotted them first. This was not what I expected.

I expected a sickly child, perhaps even in a wheelchair, an infant almost, helpless and ill. What I encountered was a vivacious and beautiful girl with long, lustrous dark hair, smiling and laughing and asking me to hold her hand. Asking me if there really are monkeys at the zoo. As we went from rental car place to hotel, my father helped get them checked in and set up while I hung with the kids and the mother. She doesn�t speak English, but her children do. We still managed to communicate, laughing and translating through the kids as I answered their many, many questions with a Disney-worthy smile on my face. I showed Rocio my tongue-stud, she seemed to get a kick out of that. Her brother chased her around, both of them laughing and giggling, she too young to know anything else but that: play, fun, love. You could see the love in this family. I could see the weight of knowledge behind the mother�s smiling visage.

They were off, on there own, had their itinerary set, people to help them along the way, their 4-day vacation, their wish. To be able to take Rocio to Sea World, The San Diego Zoo, The Wild Animal Park, and finally, a cruise around the bay. The mother gave me a hug. Rocio gave me a hug. I shook the father�s hand and nudged the boy�s shoulder. I got in the car, and waited until my father and I were a good several miles from the hotel before I broke down in tears. He rushed over to me, asking what was wrong, and I had no words. I just cried and kept saying, �She�s beautiful. They�re all beautiful. I love you, Dad, I�m so lucky, I�m so lucky, I�m so lucky�� and then I couldn�t speak anymore.

Dad dropped me off, he was off to spend his gift certificate for house stuff that he got for Father�s Day from his four daughters. His four healthy, loving daughters. The next time I�m stressed about something as petty as my job, or an argument with my sister, or anything for that matter, I will see the image of a giggling, smiling, shining 3-year-old who knows no �better� than to continue to take happiness as it comes.

I couldn�t think of a better way to put things in perspective than Rocio. I don�t know how my dad does this every week. He really is an angel to many people, I could see it in the parents� eyes, the children�s eyes. And then, after wiping the tears away, in my eyes. Before he pulled away, he said �Today was perfect. I couldn�t have asked for a better way to spend a Father�s Day. If I get hit by an asteroid tonight, know that I will have died a very happy man.� I said, �I�ll be sure to let everyone know.� �But what would you do with my Harley? Who would you give it to?� �Are you kidding me, Dad? I get the fuckin� Harley, I�ll learn to ride it.�

He smiled, said, �you�re too short to ride that bike. Anyway, it�s dangerous,� and pulled away.