Those closest to me know why I’ve been gone seemingly without a trace, but for the rest, I thought I’d let you all know. It’s taken me this long to settle back into “reality” knowing less than a month ago our family lost a bright and shining star. Joyce Aleite, my father-in-law (and second dad) suddenly became our guardian angel just 4 days after Thanksgiving.
There are still so many negative emotions, but the surreal-ness has dissipated for me leaving behind only urgency to hold my husband and our friends and family close. I met Joyce Aleite just after I turned 18 when Andres and I decided to reveal to everyone we were more than just friends (I needed to be legal first!😉) The first thing I noticed was that Andres is his dad’s clone. The second thing I noticed was his indecipherable Chilean accent. (I spoke virtually no Spanish when Andres & I began dating though I caught on quick to the Chilean slang. i.e “che” & “huevon, which actually means ‘friend’ and not an insult”). I soon also noticed that his love was unbounded—and not just for his kids (though they were the entirety of his life’s meaning) but every person he met. Waiters and waitresses who regularly go unnoticed, he asked their names and about their families. For me, he never let me get my own glass of water. I always had to jump up out of my seat quickly and snatch the glass up before he could reach it. When I didn’t know how to even fry an egg, he taught me how to cook. First pasta, then chicken, then steak (though I haven’t quite mastered the last one.) I made him an inedible lasagna once and he ate it gladly. He bought me my first walker, then my first wheelchair and never stopped paying for my medicines because he loved his son so. I was embarrassed when he told anyone who met me that I had a terrible disease, but I knew he did it so they would understand. He cared about shit like that, people understanding me and what I go through. I’ll never forget the day he personally delivered my medicine to our apartment when I was alone and after seeing how difficult it was for me to walk, he brought me a four-footed cane the very next day. I wanted to see him retire and grow old—though he would argue he did grow old. Selfishly, I wanted him to be around even functioning at 50% than die with dignity and nearly perfect health. I hate saying his name out loud now and I simultaneously want to bring him up in every conversation. I hate people who say he lived a full life even though he himself said it every day. I hate thinking of moving on without him being here to cheer us on, knowing his last words to us were “go, go, you guys can go. I’ll be fine.”
This post was a hell of a lot longer than I meant it to be. He was a Joy.
This is an article written for VectraVoice on published on our wedding anniversary last year. 🙂 Read the Team Approach to RA: Hate the RA but Love Each Other