On July 10th 1986 my father, Luis Eduardo Borja, passed away in Cali, Colombia. I was living in San Francisco at the time and got the news early that morning and had to deal with having lost my old man. I left work before noon and went home to brood and think and drink my head -and sadness- off for the rest of the day.
Today I try to remember my old man, his love of family being the only thing that kept him going. He always insisted on us, his children, having an education and being honest in our lives.
On this day I still remember in the back of my memory his voice and his advice. His gentle demeanour and his generosity. I thank him for having made an honest man out of me.
This picture must have been taken sometime around 1954-55 when I was between five and six years of age. My baby brother, Beto, behind my father, must have been not older than 4 years old.
1 comment:
Me recuerdo bien ese día, querido. También recuerdo cuánto me gustaba bailar con él en las fiestas caseras en familia. Y mucho más. Un abrazo, Lalo.
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