Gabriel and Gyan were college sweethearts, and they thought they had found the love of their lives. Then Gabriel got an opportunity in Australia, and he left behind a heartbroken Gyan.
It's been more than five years, and Gabriel finds hims...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
My flight to Australia was tomorrow evening.
The closer I got to the day of my departure, the more surreal it felt. I called Ma today, and we talked for an hour. She complained about me leaving, even though we didn't even live in the same state now. According to her, it was easier for me to visit when I was in the country, compared to across the world.
Now, I was dedicating the rest of the day to my father. We agreed to meet up at Mario's Smoothie, so I made my way to the local smoothie shop.
"Gabriel!" my father hollered, waving his arm. "Aqui, mijo." I smiled as I made my way over to him, and we sat opposite each other. "I'm glad you're spending your last day with me."
"Of course." I scanned the menu. "Wanna order?"
He nodded, and we got our drinks before returning to our seats. "Australia," he said. "Five years abroad wasn't enough?"
I shrugged. "I like Sydney. It's a wonderful place."
"I'm happy for you," my father said. "I really am, but I'm going to be honest. A selfish part of me wishes you could stay. We just started to reconnect."
I thought about that, too. My father and I were just building our relationship after years apart, and now, I was leaving.
"It's on me," my father said. "I'm the one who stayed gone for so long. It's my loss."
"I'm not dying." I chuckled. "I'll visit Shirley Heights. You can visit me, too, in Sydney."
He rose a brow. "With what money?
"We'll figure something out."
He drank some of his smoothie. "Funny you'll talk about death. Do you know why I decided to reach out to you? After all these years?"
I shook my head. I wondered about that, too. Why did he contact me when he did? Why not sooner?
He gulped. "My brother died."
"I'm sorry."
I didn't know much about my father's family. I knew he had three siblings, and I knew my grandparents lived in Colombia, but that was it.
"He was a workaholic," my father said. "Like you. Didn't spend a lot of time with his family, especially the kids. Then he got cancer." I listened intently. "It shifted his priorities, and he started to focus less on work and more on his family. Unfortunately, he deteriorated quickly, and in a matter of months, my brother died. Jorge was always the overachiever. The most successful one in the family. You remind me of him." He smiled. "He was so successful, or what people would consider successful. Before he died, he told me that his kids were the best thing he ever contributed to the world. Not his work or accomplishments. His biggest regret was not spending enough time with them."
