I was now eleven years old.
Things happen.
Everything changes.
It is not the same anymore.
There was no way to undo it.
I first noticed the whispering, the private conversations
Of my parents.
I noticed a change in my father’s voice.
It became raspy, and almost a whisper.
Mama brought out the suitcase and
packed it for him.
He looked tired and worried that night,
and then he was gone.
I never saw him again after that.
He went to a doctor in Los Angeles
to see what was making him feel so bad.
It was throat cancer.
Shortly after that it was finished.
Manuel Maria Nájera de Gomez
1861-1919
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About jedwardnajera
I am an artist and a Poet. I live the life of a poet. I published several novels. Nena the Fairy and the Iron Rose, Dust of the Moon are among them, available through Amazon Books. I have spent over thirty five years in a classroom. I am now retired from that profession.
My father kept a living record of his lifetime as he lived through the Twentieth Century. He was born in 1908 and almost lived long enough to see us enter the new millennium.
He entrusted to me nearly 400 pages that he wrote through the years.
Now I am continuing the tradition by posting my own stories and misadventures.
I am trying to post a new entry or chapter each Friday. Check in on us at least once a week for the latest post.
