Lisa Salazar

As I waited for my sister and my mom to come out to the car so we could be on our way, my mom’s next door neighbor approached me to ask how we were doing.

My dad passed away a few weeks ago at the age of ninety-five and this neighbor was one of the last persons to see Dad alive before he was admitted to hospital. The neighbor's name is Dave, and on many other occasions we had made small talk as we came and went. As far as neighbors go, he is the best anyone could hope for, always willing to lend my parents a hand, the quintessential handyman and Mr. Fixit, friendly and easy-going; and talkative.

From the many years he has been my parent’s neighbor, he has been able to piece together a bit of my family’s history, that we were born in Colombia, how we ended up in Canada, that we owned a California-style Mexican restaurant, how many children my parents had and how that explained all the grandchildren and the number of cars that showed up for family events, filling all the available …

Enrique Salazar-Samper (April 7, 1918 – April 30, 2013)
For the last few days, I have been humming the first few lines of the beautiful hymn, "How Deep the Father’s Love for Us." I cannot help but make the connection between how much my earthy father, Enrique, loved us and how much our Heavenly Father's love flowed to us through my Dad. 
I don't want this post to be about me, but I also cannot help but see my Dad's love for me these last five years that I have been Lisa, as evidence of just how powerful love is, that it can overcome even what seemed impossible, that a man at the age of ninety would be able to accept his fifty-eight year old son as his daughter. I am so grateful and blessed—it overwhlemes me.
Dad lived ninety-five years and twenty-three days...he was the last remaining member of his family to depart. The youngest of seven children, he had no memories of his own mother, who passed away when he was only two.
Along with my many cousins who are scatte…