All my life I've always wondered who my father truly was. In my head, I've always pictured him as this perfect man who loved me very much, who was tall and had a good sense of style. Who knew how to brighten up the saddest days and make them not so sad. Or when he entered a room his smile was the first thing you would notice, and his teeth sparkled like the stars. One afternoon, I was looking at a picture where my dad was holding me in his hands, “Not even a year old,” I said, tearing up. “Why did you have to go? Why did you have to leave me? ”  Every time I look at a photograph I always wonder how he smelled, or how his skin felt, or what his laugh sounded like.

 I went upstairs to my mother's room to ask her once again about my father. It had been a couple of months since I tried to get answers about my dad, but my mother always refused to tell me much. Maybe because it is really difficult for her to bring up memories she doesn't want to remember, but I have never been successful. All I knew was that my father passed on October 23, 2002, in a car accident close to home, and that he loved me very much. Well, that's what my mom always told me. I knocked on the door with tears running down my cheeks. Knock, knock  “¿Me Puedes hablar de mi papá, por favor,” I asked my mom about my father. My mom hesitated to tell me. My mother and I usually get along. I can talk to my mom about anything. She's my rock. I love her very much.  But this topic was off-limits. “ no me gusta, no Puedo” she said. Therefore My father was the only thing I couldn’t talk to her about. I felt alone because of my dad's passing.

I usually was a pretty happy girl but when October hit I didn't know how to control my emotions, and sometimes I did things I regretted. One afternoon I went on Facebook and decided to contact some family from Ecuador. I stood there debating if I should send the message or not. What if they don't know who I am? I asked myself. Heart pounding, palms sweaty, I pressed the send button. It took a couple of hours for someone to respond. I was very impatient and nervous and I kept checking my phone every 5 minutes until it finally rang. I stared for a couple of seconds. I answered, stuttering and hesitating, “Hola?”

My grandma was the one who answered. She sounded so happy to hear from me, she started crying, “Hola Mija ¿cómo estás?¨ she asked. Twenty minutes passed and my nervousness faded away. I felt a relief I wasn't expecting to get. At that moment, I shouted out and said, “I want to come to visit mi familia in Ecuador and maybe learn more about my father.”   Graciously, my grandmother agreed.

Seven hours passed and I finally breathed in the humid, hot, steamy air. With butterflies in my stomach not knowing what to expect, I slowly walked towards the airport doors. Not really knowing who to look for, I stood there for a minute until a kind old woman with dark softly wrinkled skin noticed me and started pacing towards me. It kinda felt like one of those cheesy movies when the character is running in the airport towards the other person, ready to embrace. She seemed so happy, she even started to tear up. I was happy but I was in shock. I didn't know what to say, I stood there like a statue. I felt this weird vibe like she was hiding something from me. I needed to find out what she was hiding. It took a couple of hours to get to my grandmother's house as she lived pretty far from the airport. The view was amazing. I've never seen such tall beautiful green trees in my life, I felt the moist air on my skin, humanity running through my nostrils having a tingling sensation. The sun glimmering on my skin, riding through the mountains as if they were a rollercoaster. A day passed and I was really getting comfortable with my family, I felt as if I was home and I knew them all my life. 

The next day, my grandma and I were going downtown so I could meet some more family. Apparently, I have lots of aunts, uncles, nephews, and cousins. But then I glanced over at a man and I couldn't keep my eyes off of him. It was weird. He was tall with a big smile, teeth shining, gentle wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth. I felt a connection, an energetic pull, to this man but I've never seen or met him before in my life. “Mija,” my grandma said,  “this is your papa.” I was so confused that all I could do was ba my eyes out. I didn't know what to think or say to this man who says he’s my father. I started to run away as fast as I could I felt so betrayed so disgusted with my grandma that she knew all along and never told me. I wanted to leave to go back home. I didn't want to see any of them. I wanted to be with my mom and hug her so hard I needed her badly. All my life has been a lie! I have suffered so much not knowing my father. I knew I should be happy to have finally met my father, who I thought was not a part of this world any longer, but I didn't expect this trip to go this way! 

After spending some time alone, I thought about it and I decided that I wanted to hear his side. I couldn't continue to torture myself wondering what really happened. I needed to know the answers to these burning questions that I had all my life, and today was the day I could finally get them. 

I slowly walked towards him with my palms all sweaty, I took a seat. I had so many questions but I couldn't spit them out. He nervously asked me how my mom was, but I just wanted to know if he still cared about her or us. “¿Qué pasó? Why did you leave us?” I asked, fighting back tears.

“What do you mean us?” He paused. “I didn't know your mom, had you. Your mother and I were not happy anymore and we decided to break up and go our separate ways before she ever told me that she was pregnant.”

I was shocked. I now understand why my mom couldn't even explain this to me. I started crying and I couldn't stop. My eyes kept on fogging up and everything was blurry but so clear at the same time. My dad finally told me that I had a brother. I didn't know how to process that. I just wanted to be happy. Thinking about it, I've always wanted a sibling. “Where is he?” I asked him. “He’s back home with his mom,” he responded, perking up. I noticed him talking about his family made him happy and it brought me comfort. 

The next couple of weeks were a blur. I spent time learning about my father, like his favorite color is Amarillo and how he loves to dance bachata, Como yo. We spent the whole night his family, with mi hermanito, little brother. When I was finally reunited with my mom, I wrapped my arms around her so hard and didn’t want to let go. For the first time in a really long time, I told my mom how I really felt “Te Amo,” I said. I finally slowly began to understand her hesitation, to be honest with me and I felt her love transmitted through her warm, silent embrace. 

After meeting my father, I couldn't be mad at him. At the end of the day, all I want is for him to be happy. I’m glad I finally know the real story. I can have some closure and live my life in peace. Now that I am home with my mother, I think about him all the time and I can still feel this great connection with him. When the time comes and when I have my own family, I think I would like for my children to be able to know my father and maybe feel the same energetic pull that I experienced the first time that I met him.