I will never forget the last phone call I got from my father. My mother was downstairs cooking dinner and I was upstairs in my room getting my things together for school. We only had one phone in the house and it was downstairs. The phone rang and I remember thinking to myself it was probably my brother calling, as usual, to see if dinner was ready. My mother hollered for me to come downstairs to answer the phone. I figured she must've really had her hands tied, so I ran downstairs trying not to miss the call. "Hello,"" I said, still trying to catch my breath. "Yes hello, is this Monica?"," I was in shock and my heart started to race because I had rarely heard my father's voice since he moved back to Santiago, Dominican Republic seven years earlier. His voice was very distinctive to me and it was one that I could never forget. I hesitated to answer and as my hands started to sweat, I said, "This is her. I haven't heard from you in a very long time."" Then he started to tell me that he was sorry for not keeping in touch and he was very ill in the hospital. His voice sounded fragile and shaky as he told me that he needed to see me and he loved me very much. I felt his pain through the phone and I knew this was a serious situation. .
This was a very tough decision for me. My mother told me I was going to have to fly down by myself because she couldn't miss work. I really didn't want to go by myself because I knew my father's family was going to be there and I wasn't very close with any of them, not even my father. He occasionally sent me birthday cards and had called me once in a while, but I hadn't seen him in seven years. The few times I did he did call me, he would express how much he loved me and that I would always be his little princess. He told me that he kept a big picture of me he in his bedroom that he looked at everyday. .
I always had a hard time believing him when he'd say these things since his actions spoke louder than his words.