Aaron's dad passed away on Tuesday morning. The kid hasn't been in to work since then. He'll be back on Monday, Ruben said.

It all left me feeling so hollow inside, like my emotions had been stripped. I've been at a loss, even though I didn't know Mr. Ciro Trevi�o. I just associated him with my dad is all, since I found out Pifas was dying around the same time I found out Aaron's dad was also really sick. It was right after 'Apa got out of the hospital that Aaron was selling those food plates to help raise money for his dad. I remember thinking I could help out somehow, since I felt I could no longer help my own father. Since then, I've kept that man constantly on my thoughts, and Aaron too, even though we don't really get along anymore. It's not like I hate the kid; despite all he's pissed me off and dissapointed me, I never will. I understood his pain as a son and as having a relative with cancer. Both T�a Lili and T�o Cruz died of cancer; T�o Cruz passed away little more than a year ago. It hurt me so bad, even though everyone knew it was coming. I imagine it must be the same for Aaron's family. Because no matter how much the doctors tell you to prepare, you really can't do it, not really. Part of you always hopes. I know I did. And I honestly thought Aaron's father would outlive mine, despite the cancer. Because so many people survive this awful disease now, but 'Apa was so sick he flatlined twice at the E.R. a bit over a month now. He flatlined twice. I don't think anyone can understand the anguish of having to wait in that dark room with him for over fifteen hours, hoping for his vital signs to get better, waiting for him to die. Jumping out of my skin everytime he coughed or grunted or tossed in his uneasy sleep. Except Pifas did pull through that night, and he's back to driving and living on his own again. Sometimes his skin will look blotchy and yellow, in which case I'll panic, because I know that means his liver's struggling and losing the battle to boot. I'll fuss over him, he'll wave me off like it's no big deal and take his medicine. And get better for a few days. But the medicine won't heal him. His liver can never heal again. And Ruben told me the other day that we've got to keep trying, that we've got to try to get him a liver transplant, but because the cirrossis was caused by drinking, he won't qualify for one. More importantly, he won't survive a transplant operation because of his diabetes and blood pressure problems. So we're stuck with waiting for the inevitable.

I will cry when he dies, and the thought of him being gone scares me.

I've never had to live without my father, although he wasn't always there. He was gone from my life for a good chunk of it, between being stuck in prison or out in the streets, drunk and homeless somewhere. He never really cared or remembered that he even had two kids until I was nine years old. Four fuckin' years after he disappeared from my life, he popped back up. And those first couple of years with him around were horrible. He and 'Ama would argue everytime he visited, because he often would show up drunk and my mom's not one to take that shit from anyone. This was nothing compared to the rows he'd have with my sister. The Dud hated him, and will good reason, I'm sorry to say. It wasn't until she came home from Basic Training that she finally decided to forgive him and move on. She was eighteen at the time. So my realationship with my father didn't really start until I was seventeen.

But from then 'til now - six full years it's been now, hasn't it? - my relationship with the old man's grown into something solid. Granted, he's not the best father in the world, but he's my father, and that's what matters most. I've learned to see life through his eyes in order to understand his world a bit better. It's how I learned he's multiple, just like me. And he's really, really changed a lot since Angel was born. He loves that kid. They're so close and it kills me to think of what that little peepsqueak's life is gonna be like without his grandfather. Angel and my dad are just inseperable.

So when the news of the terminal cirrossis hit, it hit hard. And we found out about it not too long after T�o Cruz passed away of brain cancer, too. Just thinking that I was about to lose him the way I'd lost his older brother ripped me apart inside. I couldn't lose them both! But the doctor said there was not much I could do except start making funeral arrangements.

Gah, and then I found out about Aaron's dad.

All this week I keep thinking back to that one moment when I told him my father was dying. I nearly choked on the words, it hurt so much. That look in his eyes... slight surprise mixed with gentle understanding and a sorrow that had nothing to do with my father... And his words that day keep ringing in my head over and over again: "Well, when you put it that way... I guess mine is, too."

He said it with a small smile that gave his face such a miserable look, something smiles are not supposed to do. It was that one moment when we connected somehow; we shared a common bond, and we both knew it. We were both caught in that waiting game, and since nothing in the world could ease my pain at the time (except maybe finding out my father had miraculously been cured), I sought to help ease his. I didn't want Aaron to suffer like I was suffering. Dammit, I still don't! And it's not fair, I don't feel it's fair, and I can't help feeling a bit guilty that my father's still breathing while his father's being mourned over by his wife and children, and his own father and all those who loved him. I'm sure there were many that loved him.

The day after I found out about Aaron, I heard that another coworker of mine, George, lost his grandmother. I used to hang out with the guy a few months back; he and Alex and I used to go to Shipley's Do-Nuts after work and talk for about an hour before heading for home. From one of the many conversations I've had with the guy, I learned that he was an only child. And from the sound of things, he was raised by his mother and grandmother. His grandma was like a second mother to him; they were all very close. I don't know how to reacct around him, just like I don't know how to reacct around Aaron.

My Draco died too, on the same cloudy morning as Aaron's father. 'Ama and I got into quite a bitter argument about it, because she doesn't believe the death of a fish is significant enough to compare to the death of a human. But I believe Draco was as much a person as anyone else, and I cried that morning when I saw him resting colorlessly in his tank. I'd had the little guy for nearly two years, and he was old. I don't give a shit if anyone thinks it makes me a wuss to cry over a beta; I cried, so what? Was he your fish? That's what I fuckin' thought.

Now, this morning, just now, less than an hour ago, actually, the Dud came quietly into my closet with the horrible news that Rita's father passed away this morning. Rita is my sister's best friend. They were deployed to Kuwait together during the war, and even though they've both gotten married and moved far away from each other (they're both now in different units), they're still very close. Rita's father has been sick for a while with cancer, just like Aaron's dad, go figure. The Dud wants to go see her, of course, and so do I. Ma�ana lo velan en Progreso, so I'll have to go to Mexico, but that's alright. I want to be there with Rita too, because she's the sweetest girl I've ever met and she's helped my sister out a lot over the years. The thing is, the rosary is in the morning, and so is the burial for Aaron's dad. I wasn't sure if I was going or not. Don't get me wrong, I really want to go; I need to see Aaron and tell him how sorry I am, and that this hurts me too. Because it does hurt me for some reason. I can't explain it, and apparantly no one else can either, because even my mother couldn't grasp the concept that I feel for the kid even though I never once met his father and we're not even close to being friends. Sympathy? Maybe. Yeah, sure, I'm allowed to feel that. But pain? Real, actual grief over the death of a man I don't even know and whose son has probably wished me dead a couple of times? Now, that's just not decent. Gee, Ma, thanks.

In any case, the Dud said I need to go. She said it would mean something to Aaron if I did, even if I am the last person he's expecting to see or wants to see at his father's funeral.