Unsung Heroes #V: Felipe (standard:poetry, 3837 words)
Author: Victor D. Lopez	Added: Jul 22 2017	Views/Reads: 1850/1203	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This is the newest addition to my longest free verse poem, Unsung Heroes, on the death of my dad.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


Once while standing at attention in a corridor with the other cadets
waiting for Roll call, you were repeatedly poked in the back 
surreptitiously. Moving would cause Demerits and demerits could cause 
loss of points on your final grade and arrest for Successive weekends. 
You took it awhile, then lost your temper. 

You turned to the cadet behind you and in a fluid motion grabbed him by
his buttoned jacket And one-handedly hung him up on a hook above a 
window where you were standing in line. He thrashed about, hanging by 
the back of his jacket, until he was brought down by irate Military 
instructors. You got weekend arrest for many weeks and a 10% final 
grade reduction. 

A similar fate befell a co-worker a few years later in Buenos Aires who
called you a Son of a whore. You lifted him one handed by his throat 
and held him there until Your co-workers intervened, forcibly 
persuading you to put him down. That lesson was learned by all in no 
uncertain terms: Leave Felipe?s mom alone. 

You were incredibly strong, especially in your youth?no doubt in part
because of rigorous farm Work, military school training and competitive 
sports. As a teenager, you once unwisely bent Down to pick something up 
in view of a ram, presenting the animal an irresistible target. It 
butted you and sent you flying into a haystack. It, too, quickly 
learned its lesson. 

You dusted yourself off, charged the ram, grabbed it by the horns and
twirled it around once, Throwing it atop the same haystack as it had 
you. The animal was unhurt, but learned to Give you a wide berth from 
that day forward. Overall, you were very slow to anger absent 
Head-butting, repeated pokings, or disrespectful references to your mom 
by anyone. 

I seldom saw you angry and it was mom, not you, who was the
disciplinarian, slipper in hand. There were very few slaps from you for 
me. Mom would smack my behind with a slipper often When I was little, 
mostly because I could be a real pain, wanting to know/try/do 
everything Completely oblivious to the meaning of the word ?no? or of 
my own limitations. 

Mom would sometimes insist you give me a proper beating. On one such
occasion for a Forgotten transgression when I was nine, you  took me to 
your bedroom, took off your belt, sat Me next to you and whipped your 
own arm and hand a few times, whispering to me ?cry?, Which I was happy 
to do unbidden. ?Don?t tell mom.? I did not. No doubt she knew. 

The prospect of serving in a military that considered you a traitor by
blood became harder and Harder to bear, and in the third year of 
school, one year prior to graduation, you left to join Your exiled 
father in Argentina, to start a new life. You left behind a mother and 
two sisters you Dearly loved to try your fortune in a new land. Your 
dog thereafter refused food, dying of grief. 

You arrived in Buenos Aires to see a father you had not seen for ten
years at the age of 17. You were too young to work legally, but looked 
older than your years (a shared trait), So you lied about your age and 
immediately found work as a Machinist/Mechanic first grade. That was 
unheard of and brought you some jealousy and complaints in the union 
shop. 

The union complained to the general manager about your top-salary and
rank. He answered, ?I?ll give the same rank and salary to anyone in the 
company who can do what Felipe can do.? No doubt the jealousy and 
grumblings continued by some for a time. But there were no takers. And 
you soon won the group over, becoming their protected ?baby-brother? 
mascot. 

Your dad left for Spain within a year or so of your arrival when Franco
issued a general pardon To all dissidents who had not spilt blood 
(e.g., non combatants). He wanted you to return to Help him reclaim the 
family business taken over by your mom in his absence with your help. 
But you refused to give up the high salary, respect and independence 
denied you at home. 

You were perhaps 18 and alone, living in a single room by a schoolhouse
you had shared with Your dad. But you had also found a new loving 
family in your uncle José, one of your father?s Brothers, and his 
family. José, and one of his daughters, Nieves and her Husband, Emilio, 
and Their children, Susana, Oscar (Ruben Gordé), and Osvaldo, became 
your new nuclear family. 

You married mom in 1955 and had two failed business ventures in the
quickly fading Post-WW II Argentina of the late 1950s and early 
1960s.The first, a machine shop, left You with a small fortune in 
unpaid government contract work.  The second, a grocery store, Also 
failed due to hyperinflation and credit extended too easily to needy 
customers. 

Throughout this, you continued earning an exceptionally good salary. But
in the mid 1960?s, Nearly all of it went to pay back creditors of the 
failed grocery store. We had some really hard Times. Someday I?ll write 
about that in some detail. Mom went to work as a maid, including for 
Wealthy friends, and you left home at 4:00 a.m. to return long after 
dark to pay the bills. 

The only luxury you and mom retained was my Catholic school tuition.
There was no other Extravagance. Not paying bills was never an option 
for you or mom. It never entered your Minds. It was not a matter of law 
or pride, but a matter of honor. There were at least three very Lean 
years where you and mom worked hard, earned well but we were truly 
poor. 

You and mom took great pains to hide this from me?and suffered great
privations to insulate Me as best you could from the fallout of a 
shattered economy and your refusal to cut your loses Had done to your 
life savings and to our once-comfortable middle-class life. We came to 
the U.S. in the late 1960s after waiting for more than three years for 
visas?to a new land of hope. 

Your sister and brother-in-law, Marisa and Manuel, made their own
sacrifices to help bring us Here. You had about $1,000 from the down 
payment on our tiny down-sized house, And Mom?s pawned jewelry. 
(Hyperinflation and expenses ate up the remaining mortgage payments 
Due). Other prized possessions were left in a trunk until you could 
reclaim them. You never did. 

Even the airline tickets were paid for by Marisa and Manuel. You
insisted upon arriving on Written terms for repayment including 
interest. You were hired on the spot on your first Interview as a 
mechanic, First Grade, despite not speaking a word of English. Two 
months later, The debt was repaid, mom was working too and we moved 
into our first apartment. 

You worked long hours, including Saturdays and daily overtime, to remake
a nest egg. Declining health forced you to retire at 63 and shortly 
thereafter you and mom moved out of Queens into Orange County. You 
bought a townhouse two hours from my permanent residence Upstate NY and 
for the next decade were happy, traveling with friends and visiting us 
often. 

Then things started to change. Heart issues (two pacemakers), colon
cancer, melanoma, Liver and kidney disease caused by your many 
medications, high blood pressure, gout, Gall bladder surgery, diabetes 
. . . . And still you moved forward, like the Energizer Bunny, Patched 
up, battered, scarred, bruised but unstoppable and unflappable. 

Then mom started to show signs of memory loss along with her other
health issues. She was Good at hiding her own ailments, and we noticed 
much later than we should have that there Was a serious problem. Two 
years ago, her dementia worsening but still functional, she had Gall 
bladder surgery with complications that required four separate 
surgeries in three months. 

She never recovered and had to be placed in a nursing home. Several, in
fact, as at first she Refused food and you and I refused to simply let 
her waste away, which might have been Kinder, but for the fact that 
?mientras hay vida, hay esperanza? as Spaniards say. (While there is 
Life there is hope.) There is nothing beyond the power of God. Miracles 
do happen. 

For two years you lived alone, refusing outside help, engendering
numerous arguments about Having someone go by a few times a week to 
help clean, cook, do chores. You were nothing if Not stubborn (yet 
another shared trait). The last argument on the subject about two weeks 
ago Ended in your crying. You?d accept no outside help until mom 
returned home. Period. 

You were in great pain because of bulging discs in your spine and walked
with one of those Rolling seats with handlebars that mom and I picked 
out for you some years ago. You?d sit As needed when the pain was too 
much, then continue with very little by way of complaints. Ten days ago 
you finally agreed that you needed to get to the hospital to drain 
abdominal fluid. 

Your failing liver produced it and it swelled your abdomen and lower
extremities to the point Where putting on shoes or clothing was very 
difficult, as was breathing. You called me from a Local store crying 
that you could not find pants that would fit you. We talked, long 
distance, And I calmed you down, as always, not allowing you to wallow 
in self pity but trying to help. 

You went home and found a new pair of stretch pants Alice and I had
bought you and you were Happy. You had two changes of clothes that 
still fit to take to the hospital. No sweat, all was Well. The 
procedure was not dangerous and you?d undergone it several times in 
recent years. It would require a couple of days at the hospital and I?d 
see you again on the weekend. 

I could not be with you on Monday, February 22 when you had to go to the
hospital, as I nearly Always had, because of work. You were supposed to 
be admitted the previous Friday, but Doctors have days off too, and 
yours could not see you until Monday when I could not get off Work. But 
you were not concerned; this was just routine. You?d be fine. I?d see 
you in just days. 

We?d go see mom Friday, when you?d be much lighter and feel much better.
Perhaps we?d go Shopping for clothes if the procedure still left you 
too bloated for your usual clothes. You drove to your doctor and then 
transported by ambulette. I was concerned, but not too Worried. You 
called me sometime between five or six p.m. to tell me you were fine, 
resting. 

?Don?t worry. I?m safe here and well cared for.? We talked for a little
while about the usual Things, with my assuring you I?d see you Friday 
or Saturday. You were tired and wanted to sleep And I told you to call 
me if you woke up later that night or I?d speak to you the following 
day. Around 10:00 p.m. I got a call from your cell and answered in the 
usual upbeat manner. 

?Hey, Papi.? On the other side was a nurse telling me my dad had fallen.
I assured her she was Mistaken, as my dad was there for a routine 
procedure to drain abdominal fluid. ?You don?t Understand. He fell from 
his bed and struck his head on a nightstand or something And his heart 
has stopped. We?re working on him for 20 minutes and it does not look 
good.? 

?Can you get here?? I could not. I had had two or three glasses of wine
shortly before the call With dinner. I could not drive the three hours 
to Middletown. I cried. I prayed. Fifteen minutes Later I got the call 
that you were gone. Lost in grief, not knowing what to do, I called my 
wife. Shortly thereafter came a call from the coroner. An autopsy was 
required. I could not see you. 

Four days later your body was finally released to the funeral director I
had selected for his Experience with the process of interment in Spain. 
I saw you for the last time to identify Your body. I kissed my fingers 
and touched your mangled brow. I could not even have the Comfort of an 
open casket viewing. You wanted cremation. You body awaits it as I 
write this. 

You were alone, even in death alone. In the hospital as strangers worked
on you. In the medical Examiner?s office as you awaited the autopsy. In 
the autopsy table as they poked and prodded And further rent your flesh 
looking for irrelevant clues that would change nothing and benefit No 
one, least of all you. I could not be with you for days, and then only 
for a painful moment. 

We will have a memorial service next Friday with your ashes and a mass
on Saturday. I will Never again see you in this life. Alice and I will 
take you home to your home town, to the Cemetery in Oleiros, La Coru¤a, 
Spain this summer. There you will await the love of your life. Who will 
join you in the fullness of time. She could not understand my tears or 
your passing. 

There is one blessing to dementia. She asks for her mom, and says she is
worried because she Has not come to visit in some time. She is coming, 
she assures me whenever I see her. You Visited her every day except 
when health absolutely prevented it. You spent this February 10 Apart, 
your 61st wedding anniversary, too sick to visit her. Nor was I there. 
First time. 

I hope you did not realize you were apart on the 10th but doubt it to be
the case. I Did not mention it, hoping you?d forgotten, and neither did 
you. You were my link to mom. She cannot dial or answer a phone, so you 
would put your cell phone to her ear whenever I Was not in class or 
meetings and could speak to her. She always recognized me by phone. 

I am three hours from her. I could visit at most once or twice a month.
Now even that phone Lifeline is severed. Mom is completely alone, 
afraid, confused, and I cannot in the short term at Least do much about 
that. You were not supposed to die first. It was my greatest fear, and 
Yours, but as with so many things that we cannot change I put it in the 
back of my mind. 

It kept me up many nights, but, like you, I still believed?and
believe?in miracles. I would speak every night with my you, often for 
an hour, on the way home from work late at Night during my hour-long 
commute, or from home on days I worked from home as I cooked Dinner. I 
mostly let you talk, trying to give you what comfort and social outlet 
I could. 

You were lonely, sad, stuck in an endless cycle of emotional and
physical pain. Lately you were especially reticent to get off the 
phone. When mom was home and still Relatively well, I?d call every day 
too but usually spoke to you only a few minutes and you?d Transfer the 
phone to mom, with whom I usually chatted much longer. 

For months, you?d had difficulty hanging up. I knew you did not want to
go back to the couch, To a meaningless TV program, or to writing more 
bills. You?d say good-bye, or ?enough for Today? and immediately begin 
a new thread, then repeat the cycle, sometimes five or six times. You 
even told me, at least once crying recently, ?Just hang up on me or 
I?ll just keep talking.? 

I loved you, dad, with all my heart. We argued, and I?d often scream at
you in frustration, Knowing you would never take it to heart and would 
usually just ignore me and do as You pleased. I knew how desperately 
you needed me, and I tried to be as patient as I could be. But there 
were days when I was just too tired, too frustrated, too full of other 
problems. 

There were days when I got frustrated with you just staying on the phone
for an hour when I Needed to call Alice, to eat my cold dinner, or even 
to watch a favorite program. I felt guilty And very seldom cut a 
conversation short, but I was frustrated nonetheless even knowing How 
much you needed me and also how much I needed you, and how little you 
asked of me. 

How I would love to hear your voice again, even if you wanted to
complain about the same old Things or tell me in minutest detail some 
unimportant aspect of your day. I thought I would Have you at least a 
little longer. A year? Two? God only knew, and I could hope. There 
would be Time. I had so much more to share with you, so much more to 
learn when life eased up a bit. 

You taught me to fish (it did not take) and to hunt (that took even
less) and much of what I Know about mechanics, and electronics. We 
worked on our cars together for years?from brake Jobs, to mufflers, to 
real tune-ups in the days when points, condensers, and timing lights 
had Meaning, to rebuilding carburetors and fixing rust and dents, and 
power windows and more. 

We were friends, good friends, who went on Sunday drives to favorite
restaurants or shopping For tools when I was single and lived at home. 
You taught me everything in life that I need to Know about all the 
things that matter. The rest is meaningless paper and window dressing. 
I knew all your few faults and your many colossal strengths and knew 
you to be the better man. 

Not even close. I could never do what you did. I could never excel in my
fields as you did in Yours.  You were the real deal in every way, from 
every angle, throughout your life. I did not Always treat you that way. 
But I loved you very deeply as anyone who knew us knows. More 
importantly, you knew it. I told you often, unembarrassed in the 
telling. I love you, Dad. 

The world was enriched by your journey. You do not leave behind wealth,
or a body or work to Outlive you. You never had your fifteen minutes in 
the sun. But you mattered. God knows your Virtue, your absolute 
integrity, and the purity of your heart. I will never know a better 
man. I will love you and miss you and carry you in my heart every day 
of my life. God bless you, dad. 


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