Life has a way of throwing us into storms we didn’t see coming, and for me, the loss of my father the day before his birthday was the kind of storm I’m still navigating. It wasn’t just the end of his life—it was a shift in mine that I’m still learning to understand.
The weeks before his passing were a whirlwind. Between balancing my demanding schedule as a part time bilingual intake coordinator, holding a full-time job as a Clinical Research Associate (CRA) in the radiology department, and pursuing a dual master's degree, I barely had time to breathe. But nothing could have prepared me for the emotional and mental toll that followed his death.
His passing wasn’t just heartbreaking—it was compounded by an ongoing battle with his sisters for his rights. The stress of fighting for his rights left me emotionally and mentally depleted. A lawsuit against Monica Valeria, someone who failed him in ways that still hurt to think about, came too late. By the time the legal action gained momentum, my dad was already gone. Now I’m left grappling with an overwhelming need for justice—not for revenge, but to honor his memory and the life he worked so hard to build.
Yet, even as this ache for justice burns in me, I remind myself to leave it in God’s hands. His justice is greater than anything I could achieve on my own. This belief has become my anchor, keeping me grounded when bitterness threatens to take over. I’ve leaned into my faith in ways I never thought I’d need to, praying not just for peace but for the strength to let go and trust that God’s plan will prevail.
Grieving during such a busy season of life is like carrying a heavy weight while running uphill. Some days, I wanted to drop everything—school, work, even my healing journey—and retreat into the sadness. But I knew my dad wouldn’t want that for me. He always believed in my ability to persevere, even when I doubted myself.
His absence has reshaped how I view life. I’ve learned to slow down, to make space for grief rather than rushing through it. I’ve become more intentional with my time, prioritizing what truly matters. I’ve also realized the importance of seeking support—whether it’s from friends, family, or therapy—because grief isn’t something you conquer alone.
The day before his birthday will always carry a heaviness, but it also serves as a reminder of the man he was and the legacy he left behind. He taught me resilience, love, and the importance of standing firm in my faith. Those lessons guide me now more than ever.
To anyone reading this who’s navigating loss, know this: It’s okay to feel broken, to lean on others, and to cry out to God. Healing doesn’t come in a straight line, but it does come. For me, it’s in the quiet moments of reflection, the prayers whispered late at night, and the courage to keep going even when it feels impossible.
Dad, I miss you every day. Your memory fuels my determination to live a life that honors your love and guidance. I know you’re watching over me, and I hope you’re proud of the woman I’m becoming.
