Papi died three years ago

Three years ago today, my father died of a brain embolism. He was unconscious for 11 days after going through emergency brain surgery - the last time I spoke to him was on August 27th, 2003 - just before he went into surgery. On September 5, 2003 I had to make the impossible decision to take him off a respirator - after the doctors told us he could potentially stay unconscious indefinitely. It was horrible.

I miss him every day. It has, of course, gotten easier - but every now and then out of the blue, I miss him so much that it hurts my heart and I just break down and cry.

I was definitely Papi's little girl, even at 40. I am the person I am today because of both of my parents, of course, and there's a lot of my mother in me - but my dad is responsible for much of what makes me happy. He taught me how to love books, art, different types of music, movies - and he taught me how to enjoy and appreciate food, wine and spirits. As I was growing up he taught me to try everything once - if I didn't like I'd never have to eat or drink it again. I've followed that rule, and so far the only thing that I will not eat are canned beets.

My dad made me curious about the world and about people, we discussed politics and he taught me to love New York City and Miami - and his beloved La Habana. He expected the best of me but he didn't pressure me.

One of my best Papi memories: I must have been around 4 years old, living in New York City. He and I had gone out - to a museum or a park, or wherever - just the two of us, so it must have been a weekend. I can only assume it was really hot because he let me take off my clothes and remain in my little undershirt and panties so that I could splash and play with a bunch of kids around an open fire hydrant. My mom would never have let me do that and had a conniption when we got home.

OK, so now I'm crying for the hundredth time today - I'll stop now.

Te quiero Papi...and I miss you!