I Remember

Torres'

In 1989 my father decided to make an entrance in our lives. I was 14 years old, it was October to be precise.
My sister and I were standing on the porch, I seen a cab pull up into the parking lot but thought nothing of it. Then a man wearing Sunglasses and a cap slowly approached the porch. It wasn't screened in yet so the man just stood there. He called me closer to where he was and asked me did I know who he was. Normally I wouldn't talk to strangers but this was no stranger. You could easily fool the body but you can't ever fool the spirit. I looked dead at him and said, "my daddy", then yelled out for my sister to come see daddy.
I cried a little, I hugged him only because it was the expected thing to do. I've seen reunions on tv and that's what people did.
He ask for grandma and she was working, so he asked Leonel could we go to meet our family and sisters. Leonel said ok but to make sure we were back because we had school next morning. He said sure.
The cab driver was an old hang out buddy of his, he waited for us to get ready, and then we left. We went to San Joaquin to see about my other siblings, they wasn't there. Then to a neighborhood in the ghetto called Barraza, we found two of my half sisters, he introduced us all and took us to San Pedro where grandma (his mother) stayed with her mother-in-law. I met my sister Jaquelyn, my sister Julyssa, and my sister Rufina all of them older than us. They said he loved my mom the best because they made two kids together. I grew up in San Joaquin around my younger sister and her brothers. Her family lived around the corner from us, her name was Laiza Mercedes Torres. She had three brothers. Laiza died a few years ago from AIDS. She sold drugs and used them. This lifestyle gave her AIDS. Our brother also died from AIDS, he was a homosexual, I don't remember him too well, they called him Chino, because of his slanted eyes. One other brother of ours died as a little toddler, he stood too close to the stove and a pail filled with boiling rice fell on him giving him 3rd degrees burns that killed him. And the one who was left died after being in a wheelchair most of his life. Their mom Ada, was a drug addict and sold her body for drugs. She also died from AIDS. Those were the siblings I grew up knowing around the neighborhood as a little child. It was a sad story, of poverty and drugs and disease.
Daddy's mom name is Pia. 5 foot tall, light skinned, straight hair down to her butt. And Indian mixed with Russian looking lady. Sweet and mean. She mothered 11 kids. 2 kid's fathers. Fertile!! Her mother in law was a black lady with a head full of white hair. She was in a wheelchair and knew everybody. She was an evangelist, Pia stayed with her to help her. That night we ate spaghetti and drunk kool aid, it was raining cats and dogs, it always rains in Panama.
It was late, it was time to go home grandma Naty was outraged she thought daddy was going to kidnap us, she was furious because Leonel let us go with him. Leonel told her he wasn't going to deny my dad his kids. He had never seen us past birth, maybe then. Truth is Paulina got rid of him. She despised Him and prohibit him from coming near us especially after the stabbing incident.
Grandma fuss at us because we left with a "stranger". He didn't come back until the weekend and we hung out with him all weekend long.
He never gave me anything, on this weekend he gave me a $100 Bill. Boy I was happy my daddy gave me a whole $100 Bill??
The baker man had a van and used to come around selling fresh bread and sweets. He told me to go use my $100 and by anything I wanted. My sister and I went across the street and stopped the van. We got a whole lot of sweets and breads. Well it turned out the money was fake. The poor man left and didn't know until the very next day we were back home and the man was looking for us.
Who father gives his kids fake money to go trick a poor man? We could've been arrested. My daddy.
He was a criminal and never did anything better than that.
The truth was, he only came back home because he had killed a cop and ran back to Panama to get away. He had moved to Costa Rica for while built a life there and never came back until then.
The good part is we met our family that we didn't know anything about. Met all our uncles and aunts granny and great grandmother. We needed to know our roots. Daddy died February 19th 1990. 10 days before my birthday.
It was a set up, some Colombians owed him money, drugs money. They told him to come pick it up, my uncle Mario told him to wait until daytime that it was late. He was greedy so he left anyways. The shot and stabbed him, then dumped his body by some water creek. This was on a Tuesday. They reported him missing Wednesday, they found his decomposing body on Thursday. Someone found him and called the morgue. They had him there on top of other body naked no sheet. My sister Mirta and uncle Mario went in to identify his body. My sister had left grandma's house as soon as he came back in our life. Running from our terrible life. Leo had been molesting her. She told me, so when she left with my dad I was relieved. Little did she know, daddy done it too, 10 times worst. With a gun to her head. Every chance he had. Daddy was sick, he never knew us, he couldn't love us. She trusted him. He did drugs and she was gorgeous, still is. Daddy was a sick man. When he died, we were all relieved. God don't like ugly, is all I could think. They buried him with his cap and sunglasses. They took his goldteeth out, because in the hood cemeteries,the grave diggers will wait for the family to leave and check inside the casket to see if the dead is bury with goodies. They would steal your gold tooth. People by anything.
No one really cried, except his mom and siblings. Us kids didn't, not much anyways. We had a rough life. I blamed my mom for all the pain, my heart grew colder, death wasn't enough punishment... I often thought.
I'm glad I'm over those demonic feelings. Thank God for Jesus.