Part 14a: Colombia, Year 1 - Dreams and Nightmares

Arriving back in Cali was like coming home, in the absolute best way possible. Mama and I moved into a beautiful Airbnb with an awesome back yard filled with amazing, tropical plants. We were already familiar with the neighborhood, and we loved to go on long walks every day (of course, without "dar(ing) papaya," the Colombian way of reminding us not to be careless with our cellphones).

I loved that house so much, and it was here that I started building the community I had been looking for. I got a personal trainer and spent 3 days a week at the gym, and I also made friends at a pole dancing studio that I became obsessed with. It was so fun to challenge my body in different ways and make new friends.

In just a handful of weeks in Cali, my entire mood had changed. The horrible sadness that had been chasing me ever since my father relapsed seemed to drift off of my shoulders, and I stopped seeking male validation. I said, out loud, "I don't even want a boyfriend."

The universe mocks me.

It was only a handful of weeks later that I met Andrés. I don't know why I agreed to go on a date with him - I had sworn off all men, and I really had no interest in dating. But there I found myself, at a salsa dance class, the official best first date ever.

I have never thought much about love at first sight. Not to say I didn't believe in it, but I didn't think it was very relevant to my life. I still don't know if I believe in anything as crazy as all of that, but I do know what I felt when I first met Andrés. His eyes were what captured me, and when I got home that night, I couldn't stop talking about the wrinkles that turned up at the corners of his eyes when he smiled.

We spent our time together taking trips to beautiful waterfalls and rivers. I loved it all - the sun, the beautiful nature, the warm weather, and him.

I wasn't the only one. My family loved him, and we even went on a trip together to visit my mom while she spent some time living in Taganga, the same beach town that had introduced me to Colombia.

Everything was absolutely perfect. Everything, that is, except for my relationship with my dad. Drugs and alcohol had driven a seemingly insurmountable wedge between us. I was unbelievably surprised when he planned a trip to come visit us.

I was so stressed, for two reasons. 1. I was sure that he was going to hate Colombia, because he'd told me just as much many times before. 2. I was absolutely positive that he was going to get his phone stolen.

I was pleased when he made it through the week without being robbed, but my first assumption was true: he didn't like Colombia. I won't go into the grim details of the things said and not said (we don't even have a picture together), but it wasn't a great experience for me. I was torn between feeling happy that he cared enough to come visit, and horribly upset because of all of the things he said.

I remember the last time I hugged him. He gave me the acoustic guitar he bought in Cali and hugged me tight. When his Airbnb door closed behind me, I paused and remember a feeling of finality settling over me. I couldn't explain it, but a wave of something ending hit me. If I had only known.

For my birthday, we went to the Pacific, which you'll remember from an earlier blog post! It was absolutely stunning, really unlike anywhere I'd ever been before. Mama, Andrés, and I had a great time and I was sad to leave.

A month later, we left for a birthday trip for Andrés in Baños, Ecuador. Baños is basically the adventure capitol of Ecuador, and we spent every day rapelling down waterfalls, ziplining, and doing other, adrenaline-junkie activities. We were having an absolute blast.

Then, the worst thing that could ever happen - the worst thing that has ever happened in my life - happened.

On the night of August 21st, Andrés and I got back to our Airbnb late from a tour of the Amazon, and I received the worst phone call of my life to tell me that my dad had had a heart attack and had not survived.

Everything after that is a bit of a blur. I know I saw signs of my dad everywhere - his initials, a dog that looked just like one from my childhood, a song that he used to bother me by singing - he was everywhere. We'll fast-forward through the awful details, but I ended up back in PA for a couple of weeks to handle things, and then went back to Cali.

I don't know how to properly put into words the devestation that followed. I don't know how to make clear my completely broken heart. I wish I could say that I find it hard to put into words because it's all a blur. It isn't. I remember every single detail.

Leaving Pennsylvania was easy. I did it without thinking, as if I could run away from all of it and pretend it hadn't happened by getting on a plane. I kept myself extremely busy, and Mama and I even went on her surprise birthday trip to the Dominican Republic in September.

This was the perfect place to cry, and we cried a lot. There is nothing like the ocean to heal, but it would take more than a week at a resort to get me through this one.

The rest of the year was just grief. Christmas came and went in grief. So did the New Year. I wish I could end this post with something else, but that's how life goes. It was a year of some pretty great highs, and the very lowest low. This was the greatest grief I had ever, and have ever, borne.

What I can say, is that grief doesn't last forever. This year started high and ended low. Next post will start low, but end high. I promise.