Memoir Monday #51: The decision
The decision
Finally the caterpillar was giving way to the butterfly: maturity was glimpsed as a promising and bright landscape. With that attitude of feeling that only the sky was the limit, I filled out a form to apply for a scholarship at a Spanish university to do a master's degree in literature. I did all this in secret from my parents, not because I thought they would not support me, but because I thought I would surprise them.
Well, they are not selecting me yet, I told them trying not to be so optimistic.
"Well, you will get it,” Dad assured them, always having more faith in me than I had in myself.
At the beginning of August, I go on vacation to another state in Venezuela. As was my custom when I was away, I called home twice a day to hear from my parents. On the morning call, I sensed that my mom was sad and I asked her what was wrong:
_Your dad didn't sleep last night in severe pain. - She told me and then changed the conversation.
I don't remember what I did that day. I imagine I had fun, went to the movies, to the theater, shopping. What you normally do when you go on vacation to big cities. Then in the evening, when I called, my mother gave me the news:
_We went to the doctor and your dad's kidneys are collapsed: your dad is on the verge of death so he needs to be dialyzed urgently.
My dad, when he found out, forced me to accept: he didn't want to feel guilty about that decision, but I was clear:
_That decision I'm not making it for you, I'm making it for me because I would be very unhappy if something happens to you and I'm not by your side. So forget it: case closed.
After that, over the years, I did my master's degree here in Venezuela and after 12 years on dialysis, my dad, my great hero, passed away.
Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had gone to Spain, if I had decided to follow my dreams, if that hunger to live and to know would have been greater than love. Maybe I would be working in a Spanish university or publishing house, writing books, attending important events, eating cheeses, olives and Serrano ham, or maybe not; maybe I would be a sad woman who regrets not having been with her father until the end. So it's a good thing I stayed. ❤
The images are from my personal gallery and the text was translated with Deepl
This is my participation this week for our great friend @ericvancewalton's initiative: Memoir monday. If you want to participate, here's the link to the invitation post
You did what your heart told you to do, and in cases like this, it is not wrong. It was what you had to do, being true to yourself and to those great loves that life gave you.
Greetings, friend.
It was not a difficult decision, because I always knew what I had (and should do). Parents are supported until the end. I send you a hug, my friend
I totally agree. They sow love and receive it abundantly.
Hello @nancybriti1
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You seem to have had some real not so good luck it would seem when trying to go overseas. You made the right choice there is no denying that. Big hugs Nancy, I don't do the 'what if' thing but if you had gone away then yeah you would be regretting it. If I wondered about going away then I would have no sleep!
Could it be that my destiny is to stay in this country? hahaha. I have been out, once or twice, and they have been pleasant experiences. And I agree with you: if I had left, I would never have forgiven myself. Dad died with the certainty that all his children would have given their lives for him. In the end, the things we take with us are few and simple. Like that: the certainty of having been loved. I hug you tightly (and you made me cry):(