I will never forget the day my father left, nor the blank, emotionless expression he had as I pleaded for him to stay. It all began one cold February night. My dad told me (I was 14), my older brother (who was 16) and my mother that he’d fallen in love with a woman from Columbia and that he’d decided to leave us to go off with her. He was 37 years old, my mother was 35 and there were seven (7) children. He said quietly, “I’ve met someone, and I’m in love.” My mother kind of slumped down in her chair. I don’t remember her saying anything. Then he said, “I’m leaving my job with the bus company and moving to South America.” I jumped up and angrily yelled, “You’re doing what?” He said, “I’m leaving to go and live in South America.” I said, “No, you’re not. Do you have any idea what you’re doing? Is something wrong with you? Who would walk out on his family like this? Why would you do this? Have you lost your mind?” My brother looked at my dad and asked him some of the same questions, but my dad didn’t have any answers, just an empty blank look on his face. All he said was, “I’m doing what I have to do.”
Two weeks later, February 18th, 1975, my 15th birthday and also the fateful day my dad chose to leave us. The whole day dragged by because I knew my dad was going to leave that night. There wasn’t anything I or anyone else could do to change his mind. There was nothing to celebrate. I remember how bitterly cold it was that day, probably hovering around 10 degrees all day, and it turned into a wind-swept, bone chilling night. My dad packed up several bags, and my mother, my brother and I waited in the living room as the clock ticked away that evening. He’d quit his job, and his new car was repossessed. Now, he was waiting for the 11:00 pm bus which would take him on his new journey to South America, traveling as a passenger this time on the very bus he used to drive.
It was 10:45 pm, and he got up from his chair, picked up his bags and headed for the door. I stared at him, hoping and praying he would change his mind, but he didn’t. I panicked and rushed to follow him out the door. I didn’t want to help him, but I did anyways because I didn’t want him to go by himself. I took hold of one of his bags, and we walked silently on the dark, cold street to the bus stop. All the while I prayed for him to please change his mind.
We got to the bus stop, and I looked up to see the headlights of the bus approaching. It made a circle like it always did, to turn around and head back in the direction it came, for it was the last stop on this route. I got on the bus with my dad. We sat, the only two passengers this late at night. My dad smiled at me but we sat in silence. Then I broke the silence and quietly pleaded to him, “Dad, please don’t go. Please don’t leave today. It’s my birthday. Please wait till tomorrow. Please.” He looked at me, but without any sign of compassion or emotion in his eyes or remorse. He just shrugged his shoulders and looked away from me, out the window into the cold, empty winter night. The next thing I heard the bus driver say, “It’s time to go.” I shook my head while I stood up and walked to the door. I stopped before I got off the bus and looked back at my dad. He was still looking out the window. He was already gone.
I got off the bus and stood in front of the door as it closed. The bus lights lit up the stop. I watched it drive away, taking my dad with it; the man I adored, my life. As the bus drove away, the lights grew dimmer and dimmer as the darkness swallowed up their glow. I stood in that space, unmoving (still hoping that he would change his mind), till the bus was completely out of sight. The lights disappeared and the night descended and enveloped my world. I was immediately aware of the biting cold that pressed in on me. I thought it was strange that I had not noticed the cold till the lights of the bus disappeared. Then, in the hopeless darkness, void of his presence, I felt the biting Northeast winter wind dig into the exposed flesh of my face and hands, sending waves of freezing air through my body. My eyes burned with tears (something I rarely experienced), and they flowed freely from my eyes, only to freeze on my cheeks and down onto my jacket. Time passed, and I noticed I was still standing in the cold and dark. I turned to walk back home; the coldest, loneliest walk of my life. I still haven’t quite figured out how I ever found the strength to put one foot in front of the other and make it back home.