I’m back home in Mexico to see my mom, my sister and brother in law and planning to stay here for a month.
This is the third time I’m here after my dad passed away in September last year. I have to say, I cannot get used to the fact that he is not here anymore. Every time I arrive to my parents’ house, I cry. His presence in this house, where I grew up and where he died is overwhelming, I can feel him every where I look.
It still doesn’t feel real, I am waiting for him to arrive from the store, or a game. I am waiting to hear his voice, I’m waiting for him to say to me: oh Lorena!, he was the only one that called me by my middle name.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the fact that he is no longer here, waiting for me, smiling when he saw me coming home.