I believe in hope. I believe in dreams. I believe that even the impossible is not out of reach. I didn’t always believe in this though, the reason I believe now is beause now is because of a great man I am proud to call my father.
At the young age of 10 I was a very optimistic child. Almost nothing could put me down according to my parnents. I always looked at the bright side. That and I had hope and dreams. I dreamed of going to a university and having a family. In my dreams my parents were always there, my father was always there.
When I was around 10 1/2 my father got sick. I never really found out what was really wrong with him or what it was called all I knew was that he was sick and that he was rotting before my very eyes. It stated on his shoulder, but it was spreading till it covered his entire arm and it was still spreading. His arm was turning all these sick shades of blues, black, purples, and greens. The doctors didn’t know what to do. As his arm got worse. He was in bed all the time and every time I saw him it was like a knife plunging in my heart repeatedly. On my 11th bithday my father summoned me. He was stiitng upstraitght on his bed, which was probably huritng him. What surprised me was the present next to him he handed it to me and he told me to open it, which I did. Inside was a tweety piggy bank. I started to cry, with his good arm my dad hugged me and told me everything was going to be fine. I didn’t believe him for a second for I had already lost my faith. I never thought positive anymore. I was always negative. I asked anyone who would listen and God, “Why did my dad have to get sick?” “Why do I have to see my dad rotting and probably die in front of me?” But my dad must have known this because he told me to hope. I asked him why am I going to get all hopeful if I’m just going to be let down. He smiled and said, “When you have nothing to hope, dream.” He tried to talk to me about God, but I told him I don’t believe in him anymore so he scratched that out and told me how when he came to the states all he had was hopes, dreams and a goal. “I’m capable of anything and so are you,” he said. “I’m going to be okay.”
My father left for a hospital the next day. Turns out he only stayed this long for my birhday. I didn’t hear from him for about 3 weeks. I thought the worst had occurred. Then on a rainy day while I lay on my bed hoping that my father was well the phone rang. I picked it up and it was the hospital. I started to cry and handed the phone to my mom. She cried and handed the phone back to me, “Hello?” Then I heard my dad say, “Estoy bien mija, estoy bien.” It was my father. He was okay.
If you enjoyed this essay, please consider making a tax-deductible contribution to This I Believe, Inc.