Costa Del Sol


The last ten days I joined my family’s gathering at the Costa del Sol.

My mothers family decided to go on this trip together (for three weeks) and it was the first time in over a year that I’ve seen most of my family members (except for a short moment at my grandmothers funeral).

So it was a very special occasion and very likely the last time that we will meet in this constellation in this type of atmosphere, as some family members are not necessarily the most healthy.

And although I sometime feel like I don’t connect too deeply to some of my family members I kinda felt like I wanted to join. And also I felt like I wanted to connect to one family member in particular on a deeper level.

This trip kinda turned out to be what I had expected: Not too relaxing but still beautiful and intense.

Daytimes, everyone did their thing but in the evenings we spend our time together. Of course, in a group of 12 people of all ages and very different interests, there was some tension but mostly we laughed a lot, we ate well, we danced a lot and had a good time and bonded in a new way.

Some people in my family saw my crazy dancing for the first time. And thank god only half of my mankini belly dance was recorded 😉

Eventually I would stay three days longer than planned. For one thing because it was nice to share time with my family but mostly because my dad is not too well. I mean, seeing how his feet have swollen so he needed to get shoes two size bigger than his usual size, we were all a bit shocked. One family member was straight with me saying that if he doesn’t radically change his eating habits and moving behaviour, he won’t be alive for much longer. He doesn’t want to admit and I am not sure whether he resigned or is till in denial.

Looking at him, I know it is true. As I am leaving Vienna for an uncertain amount of time on Thursday it might potentially be the last time I saw him. So I stayed for three days longer.

We didn’t talk a lot these days but still made peace in our own way.

Two things would coin the pictures in my head these days. One is a mental image of my dad playing with me when I was between one and two years old and how much joy I brought into his life during the hardest year of his life.

I do understand now how much he must have loved being with me when I see how much joy my daughter brought into his life. It was the first time I ever saw him happy in my lifetime over an extended period of time… the first six months after my daughter was born.

And I do understand the disappointment he must have felt when I grew older and started having my challenges with him. I know he feels like I never appreciated what he did for me and do not understand how much he loves me. And perhaps I don’t… how should I be able to tell?

But with this image in my head these days I see how he plays with me and as I know how much joy my daughter brought into my life when she was born I kinda now understand his pain and how his inability to show his love in an empathetic way is emotionally tormenting him. I feel like he is still seeking for that little child in me who loved him unconditionally.

The other image I keep seeing is the image of me carrying my daughter in my right arm during my dad’s funeral to his grave.

And what is disturbing for me is that in the last few days I find myself mentally preparing my father’s eulogy.

This morning while I had my morning coffee with him just before I left I had tears in my eyes.

This images made me realize how much he loves me and I how much I love him.

I had a lot of mentors and surrogate fathers in this lifetime, still, none ever loved me as much as he does and none will ever be able to take the place of my father.

At last, I am his son and he is my father.