An unforgetable night

    It was July, 2005, and I was in Bournemouth, south of England, spending a month to study the country language. I was on a big group, with 30 friends and a teacher.

 One day, my friens and I were in a disco, named Opera House, the most famous disco of the town. The night was incredible, the music was amazing and the company was awsome. We danced and swinged a lot the ecletic hits of black music, eletronic, psy, and even Brazilian ones, such as Ivete Sangalo and Banda Eva. We also tried the variety of drinks and mixes of a foreign country. We met different people from other cultures and also made new friends. We enjoyed each second and we didn’t want to go home, because everything and all the details were new. However, as we were staying in host family, the mothers had imposed that we should be at home at 2:00.

   When we went out, it was windy and raining a lot, and we needed to get a taxi. So, tried to look for some cabs, but we couldn’t find anyone. Our clothes were totally wet and we were kind of lost. Seeing our situation, a strange man came trough our direction. He seemed to be 30 years old and his accent seemed to be from the arabia. His face wasn’t unkown, because he was also  the disco. He wanted to know if we needed a taxi, and asked one for us, because he had the number of the taxi center.

   While we were there waiting , we stared to talk with the strange man. So, the taxi arrived and my friends and I entered in it. However, suddenlly, the muslin man oppened the doors car, asking if he could go with us, due to his house was in the way of ours. At this moment , we felt something strange, since he didn’t know where we lived. But he begged a lot, and we agreed. In the way home he wanted to know all about our lives, such as where do we live, and what do we do. I was so nervous and frightened, that I wanted to arrive the fastest in my house, because it was the nearest one of the disco. About 15 minuts had passsed, and arrived home.When I left the car, I saw that the odd man also had dropped out it. He began to follow and then I asked:

” What are you doing here?”.

“I want to stay with you!”. The strange man added. This tme, my heart went out of my mouth . He was totally crazy. Fortunatly, the cab was in front of my house, waiting this scene to finish.  I said to him that he should go home and to leave me alone, because if he didn’t I would call the police. Finally, he agreed , but he wnated to know where my school was, because he was going to wait me in front of the school gate the day after. Of course, I lied to him the name of my school. As result, he went away.

  So, my parents have always taught me not to talk with strangers ,that I have to be aware, avoid being innocent, because  part of the word is made of strange , psycopatic and bad people. I never cared a lot about this advices until this incident happen. Now I understand their worries, I see that we are vunerable beens and that something worse could have happened at that night.

Who are you gonna live with?

            Until that day, I had never thought about whom I prefer the most: my father or my mother. Until that day, I had always said what the bulk of sons would say: I like my parents in the same way. Until that day, I had never intended to live alone. That day was a weepy Saturday morning, in March of 2007, when my dad told me that he and my mother decided to divorce. It took almost one year to my father find a new home. And last week was my turn: I moved in an apartment with my mother and my brother. And now I have a fly in the ointment, once I need to choose who I’m going to live with: mom or dad.

            To solve this problem, I decided to find out what are some flaws of each of my parents and where I will be more comfortable and happy (can you suggest me a better way of choosing between the two people you love most?). Well, let’s start with my mother: I’ve been arguing a lot with her since my father left home, in January of 2008. I don’t know exactly why, but I think we are very different. And out of these differences, I often get stressed with her way of life. And I assume she gets too with mine – she is an easy-going person and I’m an uptight guy. For instance: she is not working nowadays, and I usually get worried about how is she going to pay her bills. Yeah, I know that I shouldn’t concern about this. After all, she is my mother, and not the opposite. Another pitfall is that she is already dating, what makes me uncomfortable. I’m not against dating, or getting married after a divorce. The thing is I’m not ready to see a guy without shoes on my sofa watching TV in my living room.

And what about my dad? Well, my father is a role-model for me. My grandfather died when he was too young and he experienced some bad situations after that. However, he was able to get over those tough moments and now he is a very successful man. Is he perfect? No, absolutely. He is very stressed – and I think sometimes I get more stressed when I’m with him. He also likes to eat fat food, which I don’t. And he is a little tight-fisted; thus, he doesn’t have a maid every day and I have to order some junk food when I have dinner at his apartment. And here is the worst thing: he can’t stop hugging me when we are together! Last Tuesday I was lying with my dad in his bed when I caught myself thinking: I used to be more exigent. In the past, I wouldn’t feel comfortable in a small and cold apartment, with ugly furniture and no food. But now, I think I need nothing, but my father, to be happy.

Although I prefer to live with my father, it’s not a breeze decision. Actually, I don’t know how to do it and neither if I should. It is hard to me not to see my father daily, hearing his voice just through the phone, not laughing together as we used to. But I have my mom, and I can’t just leave her alone. And I think she needs me. In addition, I have my young brother. Have you noticed how I care about the others, especially about my family? I’m always thinking if they are fine, if they need something… and if I notice that something is wrong, I want to meet them immediately. Well, I definitely think I should be more self-centered. Thinking on your own is not a good thing. However, it is necessary in some cases. I can’t anymore spend my days worrying if my parents are fine, if my mom will be able to contend with her bills, if my brother will keep up with his grades or if my dad is eating fat food. So, I think that whatever I decided to do, I need to think on my own, what will be the best for my future, where I will feel more comfortable and emotionally good. Otherwise, I will never be able to move on and get over my parent’s divorce.

When it DOES happen to you

(Rick, I guess I wrote too much… I really need to work on it)

 

All the reasonable thoughts, all the inner strength, all the words and thoughts of support; it’s just entirely different when it happens to you.

 

 Considering that my father left home for good when I wasn’t even born (taking all the money with him and leaving my mom and I with only the small apartment we had) and that for ever since we scarcely have news about him I was raised by my grandparents once my mother had to work hard to be able to provide us a truly home.

Because of that, I always had, in my grandpa, also the best father ever (the one I’ve never had). He was the first one who saw my first steps; my first milk tooth beginning to grow; he was patient enough to teach me how to tie my shoes; if I wanted to, he would play with me flat-out, until I get tired and fall asleep; he was the male image of a hero to me.  I don’t even have to say that I love him above everything and everyone else and the relation we have is the strongest. Due to that, now that I’m grown, it’s my turn to take care of him in anyway he comes to need. It never passed through my mind that it would come a day when things would get in a way that I wouldn’t be able to do a thing to help him.

It was a warm afternoon of 2006, my mother and I went to my grandparents’ house to watch what would be the last game Brazil played in 2006 World Cup. When the game was over, my grandpa couldn’t believe Brazil had lost. He was visibly upset and angry so he went to his bedroom to finish the painting he was doing so as not to keep thinking of that. Once I hate sports – especially soccer – I went to the computer.

Suddenly I noticed an agitation in the corridor; my mother was running back and forward asking for my grandma. I felt she wasn’t thinking straight because she was shaking her head in sign of rejection; she was disheveling her hair in an attempt to send that sensation away along with those thoughts; she was calling for my grandma in a tearful and desperate way. I had never seen my mother acting like that before. At my eyes, she was always the most “good sense” one in the family, who would manage any situation with balance. I was scared. My heart was beating so fast that I could feel it’s pulsation in my chest. My hands started to tremble and a cold sweat took over my body. I wanted to go out of the office room (where the computer was) to see what was going on but, in the other hand, I was too fearful to do anything. And I wouldn’t be able to leave the room anyway because I felt like I was attached to the ground; my legs were too weak to sustain myself.

So I started to sing a song to focus my attention in anything else and I kept repeating the song even louder when my mother started to talk to my grandma. It didn’t work out very well so I heard part of the talk. Actually, right at that time, I didn’t know exactly what it was but I heard her saying something about my grandpa health. For a moment, I stopped listening to the conversation. I looked around at my grandpa’s office and my eyes paused in the pictures at the wall; there were at least 10 photos and they were all of my grandpa with me in different ages. I felt butterflies in my stomach and at the same time I was felling kind of nauseated.

So I left the room. My mother and grandma were both in his bedroom so I stood at the doorway. My grandpa was at his bed; helpless, unconscious, fainted. He had had a hemorrhage (derrame). From that moment on to the rest of the night, nothing that I saw was clear. My vision immediately got obfuscated by the tears that would roll down my eyes at any time. I went to the living room and sat at the couch. My mind stopped working, I was in shock. I don’t know for how long I stood there but at some point my mother went to see me. He had woken up. He was back. However, his conscience wasn’t. The hemorrhage made his memory die away. He didn’t remember a thing. He didn’t remember my grandma, my mother, his bedroom, his house. I could hear him screaming in desperation repeating sentences like: “Who are you?” “Where am I?” “This is not my house, this bedroom it’s not mine!” “WHERE AM I?” “WHO ARE YOU?” And suddenly, in the middle of all that questions, I heard: “Where is my angel? Marina! Where is she?”. I was the only thing he remembered. He hadn’t forgotten me. My hero was back, and he knew who I was. I burst into tears, even more than before. I had to help him.

My mother called the ambulance but she was weeping so much that it was pretty impossible to understand the very few words she was able to say. I took the phone and after answering those protocol questions about how exactly he was and what was the house address, the woman sent an ambulance. My mother was lamentable at the floor crying like a baby. My grandpa had just passed through many surgeries because of a cancer and she was afraid that his hemorrhage had something to do with that. So my grandma told me to call a friend to talk to me and make me feel better. I called my best friend who started to say beautiful things to help me stop crying but it wasn’t working out. I hanged up and started looking at the window. I started to sing the same song I was singing earlier (Radios in Heaven) and tried to calm down and stop crying.

            It turned to be impossible when I heard the sound of the ambulance getting closer. Somehow it made the situation more dramatic. The doctors came, the examination happened in my grandpa’s bedroom and there was no precision in the diagnostic. They just said that his memory would come back with time. My grandpa didn’t stop asking to see me. So after the doctors left, I was less scared with the whole situation and enter his room for the first time. The sparkle of his eyes was almost none, his face showed an agony and torment expression that came to a weak smile when we saw me. I hugged him. I realized he was as fragile as precious. My hero was human after all. Even he has bad days. I was with him and that was all that matters. My mother showed me for the first time that it was OK for strong women to cry. My grandma proved how strong she was. After this day, I see everyone of my family in a different and more respectable way. Their behaves is also different now. We all changed. We now know how important we are to each other.

So I guess that’s it: people change, world vision’s change, but the fact remains there. And no matter what, it is something that will never leave my mind. The sound of the ambulance’s siren, my mother’s disbelief appearance, the noise of my grandpa silent cry: that night became one of the most unforgettable moments of my life.

Words that can change your life

It all started with a simple cough, which worsened to a bloody cough and ended with a devastating diagnosis: lung cancer and 6 months of life.

This was the death sentence my father heard from his physician in 2002.

I wonder what were my father’s thoughts after receiving those words. At that time, he used to live in Londrina – Paraná, where he ran a business, on his own. Receiving the cancer diagnosis is already difficult; however, facing it alone, was even worse.

The first feeling might have been a mix of shock, disbelief, fear, uncertainty, sadness, anger, confusion and depression. No one is ever ready to hear they have cancer. Although my father always knew the risk of smoking, he never thought it could ever happen to him. “Why me?”, “Why didn´t I realize the symptoms earlier?”, “Why didn´t I stopped smoking many years ago?”, “How will be the treatment? Will it worth the suffering and pain?”, “What about my future plans and my dreams?”, “What can I do in 6 months?” and “How should I tell my family?”.

The first person my father talked to was my mom. My mother is the strongest person I´ve ever seen. However, on that day, she cried. She told my brothers and me about the diagnosis and how we should stay together to help my father deal with that.

I couldn´t think rationally: I was in shock… One thousand things were passed through my mind: anger, fear, disbelief and grief. “Why my father?”, “Why didn’t we demand my father to stop smoking or having a medical appointment earlier?”, “Why 6 months?”, “What should I tell him?” and specially “Why shouldn’t I spent more time with my father when I had the opportunity?”.  

Accepting the diagnosis and figuring out how the cancer would fit into our lives was challenging, mainly for my father. When you know someone you love is going to die and you can not do anything, you feel hopeless, useless and weak.  

My father’s first reaction was to isolate himself from the world. He did not speak one word for a long period of time. We did not want to interfere in his privacy, which he was entitled to. After some months, my father realized that coping with his own mortality and the demands of cancer meant looking more closely to his personal and family values and what was important in his life. He realized that he could not struggle with the cancer alone: he decided to ask for support.

After facing the lung cancer, my father also faced a brain cancer metastasis in 2004. He underwent 2 surgeries, 10 chemotherapy sessions, 30 radiotherapy sessions and countless visits to his physicians. Recently, my father was considered cured from both cancer and the 6-month period of life was postponed for some years more…

            The cancer was overcome not only by my father, but also by all my family. We learned to look after the people we love and that staying together can make us stronger. One will only realize how much a person is important, when they discover they could lose the loved one. Additionally, we realize that your presence is also a way to show your support for the person you love.

That words stated by the physician changed my family’s life: firstly, in a shocking, but good way; otherwise, we would never discover how strong and united my family could be.