I haven’t heard from my dad in a few months. I got an update over the phone from my mom. Here’s the rundown:

• Car Accident: My father was involved in a car accident that has totaled his car. He had a 1979 Mustang and it’s totaled. He doesn’t have money to fix it.
• Death in Family: His wife’s aunt died. They cremated her but can’t afford to send her ashes to Mexico so the ashes are at the house, chillin.
• Broke: My dad is broke. He’s been working at the same place for 20 years, makes a great living, but he’s broke.

That was the update.

Sadly, he hasn’t called me, and never sent me the money he promised was for me since my wedding. He promised to get some out of his 401k because he feels he owes me for ditching out of all my life’s events. He wasn’t at my graduation, didn’t visit me the final day I was in Los Angeles before moving to Seattle.

On the other hand, I sat in for him for immigration for 8 hours waiting for an interview. I signed a bunch of papers so that he can become a citizen. I also never resisted a meeting with him, and have always treated him as if he never left or never abandoned me at all. He got remarried, he has new kids, his wife hates me. So much that he is not “allowed” to call me. He probably isn’t allowed to have anything to do with me, and he seems to have lost his back bone somewhere along the way.

The guy could die, and I wouldn’t know where he is or what happened.

Some might say “At Least you have a dad”…but then again he’s never been there and he’s not accepting my communication so it’s like I have no dad.

The last time I saw him was at my wedding August 18th 2007. The last time I spoke to him was in March.

He doesn’t call me…His first born son…but he’ll call my mom asking for Money.

It’s harsh.

Sometimes in the midst of all my “hustling” I think about the one thing that My dad really gave me.

That’s “CULTURE” my dad NEVER gave up his heritage, never learned English, Never really did things the American Way. The only thing that he has that’s really American is his love for the Ford Mustang. Other than that, He’s Mexican through and through.

Maybe he just hates me or dislikes me for taking the American Dream and making it a focal point of my literate mentality.

I am proud of being a Mexican, and am proud of what I have been through and accomplished, but in a lot of ways I hope I am never like my father.

I may have his genetics, but I don’t have his life, nor his lack of emotional connection with the ones he loves.

I try not to be bitter. I think positively, but sometimes I wish I had a father to talk to about “manly” things…and well…I don’t.

So what do I do instead?

I rely on the hope and foundation that I have in my faith…knowing that a Father I can’t see with my own eyes is more than just someone that lives in California but more of a heavenly presence…God. For those of the faith, you know that God offers a father for the fatherless….and while more people try to earn their enlightenment or try to be “good” enough to be saved, I can rest assured that salvation is a free gift, and not something that I can attain for anything that I do or step into.

I feel alone in my walk, but I know that I can never be.

My dad has never been around. He is the epitome of a quitter. He quit being my dad. He even severed his financial support the very day I became 18 years old. Forcing my mom and I to work 2 jobs each to pay the bills.

That’s all I have for today.