The Summer We Said Goodbye

It's one o’clock in the afternoon in Geneva, Switzerland. I was super dehydrated from this heatwave that Geneva was having. Sweat was dripping down my face as I murmured to myself.

"I can’t believe my father has done this to me once again.”

It wasn’t the first time he had done this. I remember the time he showed up four hours late to his mother's funeral. My mother and I felt embarrassed. Everyone kept asking where he had been. When he finally showed up, he was drunk and made a scene. Only he would make me reminisce about the bad things about him. I glanced over as I saw a Volvo pull up right next to me, rolling down the passenger side window and yelling.

“Well, are you going to get in, or are you just going to stand there?”

Realizing it was my father, I rolled my eyes and spoke in a sarcastic tone.

“I might as well, since I’ve been standing out here for four hours.”

As I was putting my luggage in the back, my father commented.

“You should know by now, son, that I don’t tolerate tardiness.”

When I got into the passenger seat, he spoke once again.

“You know, you've got to start thinking in a positive way and not be so negative all your life.”

“Well, what can I say? I learned from the best."

He bit his lower lip, clenching his jaw as he stared out of his driver's side window while taking deep breaths. When he finally calmed himself down, he turned toward him and spoke.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I looked out the passenger-side window. I stumbled over my words while responding to my father, as he was an intimidating man. But when I stared into his eyes, I saw a frightened little boy. The words came to me as I responded.

"Just thinking out loud here: like my career choices, lifestyle, and past relationships. It’s sad that you think you’re being helpful, but you’re not."

There was nothing but silence inside the car. We didn’t talk to each other until my father made a pit stop to fill up the Volvo. I decided to get out of the car with him to stretch my legs. I caught him staring at me as he gassed up the Volvo, which was when he said something.

“You know I’ve never meant to hurt you in any way, right? I wanted to make you tough, so you could survive out there in the real world on your own. "Finding your way in life isn't a clear path; it's more about getting a job and helping your loved ones survive."

I tilted my head down towards the asphalt. A thought crossed my mind: “Is my father finally opening up to me?” I looked at him and asked.

“Were you preparing me for your departure or for Mom's?”

I’ve never seen my father show any emotion in his life, not even at his mother's wake, until that moment. His eyes were watery as he tried to hold back his tears, but he couldn’t. He cried his eyes out to me and spoke.

“I never thought I would be burying your mother. I thought it would be the other way around.”

My father grew quiet for a moment, staring at the beautiful mountains. He was collecting his thoughts. He then turned back to face me and continued.

"When your mom found out she had stage-four cancer, she asked me, ‘Did we get Mark? Ready for the real world? Is he going to make it?'"

He was about to finish what he was saying when the gas pump shut off. He took the nozzle handle out and placed it back in its holder. As we drove off to our destination, my father continued the conversation.

“Your mother was more concerned about you than about her own well-being. She is the glue of our family. That’s why we need to make this vacation special. It could be her last."

I couldn’t hold back my tears as I stared at my feet and spoke.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without her dad. I still have so much to learn from her; she doesn’t deserve this.”

“I know, son. That's why we need to be strong for her. "I promised her I wouldn’t be so tough on you when she's gone. I’ll also open up more to earn your trust again," he replied.

I was beginning to feel close to him again. It's been so long that I don’t even remember the last time I felt this way about my father. There’s something I’ve wanted to ask him for a while, but I didn’t have the courage until now. I turned toward him and said,

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

At first, my father was suspicious of it; I could tell by the way he furrowed his brows, and he replied.

“Of course, what’s on your mind, son?”

“How are you affording this trip, Dad?”

My father's response was.

“Well, if you work enough and put in the hours while saving your money, you could end up affording a vacation like this.”

I started to shake my head as I grew agitated with him; he knew very well, as he had replied.

“Okay, what did I do this time?”

“You're lying to me again. Cut the bullshit. A construction worker's salary can't cover a stay at a five-star hotel in Switzerland. So, stop lying to me and tell me the truth!”

There was silence between the two of us until I calmed down; that was when I asked him another question.

"That day when you arrived late to work, I saw you talking to some interesting guys in a dark SUV. Who were they?”

I’ve never seen my old man so caught off guard until I said that. I could see him biting his lower lip as sweat dripped down his face. I knew he was hiding something, but I didn’t know what. He answered me, but it wasn’t the answer I wanted; it was more like he was reflecting while he spoke.

“There are reasons why I don’t open up to you as much as you want me to. There are things that I’ve done in the past that I’m not too proud of, to survive. I didn’t want you to go through that. I think that's why I was always so hard on you, so that you could be better than me.”

As I locked eyes with him, listening closely to what he was saying, I answered him.

“Are you still doing those things to help with the bills?” he responded. “Look, I’m not going to answer that question, but know this: there are things a man must do to help his family. No matter what, son, I will always love you and protect you, even if it means you’ll hate me for the rest of your life.”

I grinned back at my father and told him.

“I could never hate you, Dad.”

My father grinned as he turned his head toward me and apologized.

“I’m sorry.” As I looked back at him, I said, "Me too.”

From that day forward, we made amends. It was a perfect way to start our last summer vacation together as a family. We dined at five-star restaurants. We went alpine hiking. We took scenic train rides. We swam in crystal-clear lakes. I have never seen my mother so happy. Not only was it a perfect way to start my summer, but it was also a perfect way to end it.

As I flash back to that summer, my mother tapped me on the shoulder and spoke.

“Hey, sweetie, it's time for us to go. Do you want to say anything to your father before we leave the cemetery?"

My father died shortly after our family vacation. An assailant shot him ten times in the back as he made his way to the front door. My neighbour found him lying there, covered in his own blood. By the time my mother and I arrived at the house, he was already in a body bag. I‘ve never seen my mother so devastated.

I asked my mother about his dark past. She said my father was in a crime family. After my mother finished her chemotherapy, we planned a short trip for the long weekend. We rented a cottage up north. I decided to ask her a little more about my dad’s involvement with the mafia.

I pulled up a chair beside her. She sat by the water with her toes in the sand. She turned her head toward me and spoke.

"Hey, sweetie, this is such a beautiful place. If only we could stay like this forever.”

I smirked at her and replied.

“Yeah, if only. Hey, Mom, can I ask you something... about Dad?"

My mother replied while playing with her feet in the sand.

“Yeah, honey, you can ask me anything.”

I stared out at the lake as I tried to figure out what to say when it finally came to me; I then looked at her and asked.

“How did Dad get himself into this mess?"

My mom started to laugh as she kept playing with the sand with her toes. She then took a deep breath and replied.

“Your father could never make a proper decision if his life depended on it. At the time, he thought that by doing this, he would put more money on the table and wouldn’t have to work so much. But it was the exact opposite.”

“Then why didn’t you get out of it before it was too late?” I asked.

“I wanted your father to leave. When he told me he had joined the mafia, I told him he was stupid. He didn’t want to believe me. A couple of years ago, your father had had enough of his life. He tried to leave, but they wouldn’t let him. They threatened your father, saying that if he left, they would come after us. So, your father stayed to protect us.”

She then got out of her seat and started walking towards the water, letting the waves hit her ankles. She turned towards me and said,

“There were only two things he got right in his life: marrying me and having you.”

We both laughed. I walked towards her as I reached for her hand, putting my head on her shoulder, eyes watery as I said.

“I’m not ready to lose you yet, Mom. I’ve already lost one parent; I don’t need another.”

I remember her caressing my hair as she kissed my forehead and spoke to me.

“Honey, we will always be with you. Even if you don't see or hear us, we're watching over you. We'll guide you with unseen hands and whisper words of hope, like your personal angels."

I stood there, crying on her shoulder for a while as she comforted me. It was a weekend to say our goodbyes. I wish I could've done that with my father. My mother died a month later. The cancer had spread into her brain as she passed away in her sleep.

So here I was, a seventeen-year-old orphan, trying to make it in the Big Apple as a screenwriter at Juilliard. It was my first day here, and I sat at my desk and opened my textbook. The girl next to me poked me on the arm to get my attention and spoke.

“Hey, you're not from around here, are you?”

“No, I’m from Montreal, Canada,” I said. She then stared back at me and replied.

“It must be hard for you to be all by yourself in such a place as New York.”

I started to flash back to that day when we had that conversation in the car. It was something I could never forget, turning my head toward her and saying.

“No, not really. My angels are watching over me."