May 25, 2011


With my dad in the hospital, I tried to help out by communicating a couple of things to his workers.  The head one is from El Salvador and while he does speak some english, it can get difficult to convey some things over the phone.  So I met up with him and tried best I could in my pidgin spanish.  As I was about to drive away, he came up and leaned in my window.

"Tu brother?"

"Muerto," I confirmed his suspicion.  It's emotionally difficult to say even in another language, perhaps because I wasn't expecting to have to deal with any grief at this point in time.  Just a simple task to fulfill.

He drew in a sharp breath between his teeth and shook his head signifying displeasure.  "Tu father, muy poquito..." and made the motion with his hand like a mouth talking.  Basically, he was saying he didn't talk much anymore.  That was a big deal.  A year ago, he'd say of my father, "mucho widdy-widdy."  It's a phrase that basically means chatty, or even too chatty.  That's who my dad was.  He'd constantly be talking to the customers or the workers about their lives or his.

Cancer sucks.

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