Dad

We said goodbye years ago, so why was I still saddened to say, "Goodbye" one last time?

Four years post stroke and life in a rehabilitation hospital, my father passed away. He was a boisterous man who demanded to be the center of attention, made apparent by his 2 o'clock Sinatra karaoke sessions, almost nightly, like he needed constant validation. Having 6 siblings (or 7?) makes it understandable. He could only mumble the last 4 years from what I've been told, unable to be the voice in the center of the room, and had few family and friends as he notoriously burnt every bridge still standing. He was the center of ... nothing.

I forcibly left home at 18, then at 19, both times at his request. I realized I have zero pictures of us or any family photos really, after this time period. I initially came home for personal reasons and to take care of mom after her spinal fusion surgery around 2008.

 

Months after returning home, my accident happened and there you were again, trying to wrangle me into one of your business ventures in the Philippines while I sat there paralyzed in a hospital in a body brace unable to move. I think the last time we saw one another was 2009, you really tried to be with me, but the timing was so off. I truly believe you felt bad about us being estranged, but we were always awkward and never had the right words.

You were not the kindest man, lacked empathy, painted broad misogynistic strokes, were secretive, were a terrible husband, and did not treat us well. We lived in fear constantly and for good reason. At some point, you may have intended well in your mind, but you scarred us for life. Your darkness destroyed every bridge and every gesture of kindness. The idea of trust was foreign to you, perhaps it was how you were raised (?). I'll never know since we were never introduced to the family or really acknowledged.

Though you were dark, I always secretly hoped that maybe you'd be a real father, interested in, at least, our family. I will choose to remember the few moments of light as "Daddy's little girl", though maybe inaccurately, and know that we (my mother, brother, and I) are good people because of and despite of you. I am a lot like you for better or worse and am okay with that.

You built our front yard from scratch and were an exemplary engineer. After working in the Nikon factory, you went on to open Manny's Camera, initially with another Manny, across from KTLA next to a Coney Island burger joint on Sunset. I watched Xanadu on the television when waiting for you. Solo, you successfully became a Hollywood Staple for camera repair/maintenance. My love of photography and pictures came from all the photo journals you kept around. The many things you invented/created will be lost due to your mistrust of everybody and that saddens me.

Dad, I hope that you found peace at the end and that you are not suffering anymore.

Manny Ripoll Almalel "Noli"
01/01/1948-08/16/2017