Southern Influence, by Carolina Fernandez

My father boarded a corpoate Leerjet one cold Thursday morning in November, 1969. In what proved to be tragically flawed judgement, the pilot missed the runway and crashed into Lake Michigan, instantly killing himself and the other seven passengers.

The loss hit me again like a ton of bricks as I hung my clothes into my college dorm-room closet. My roomate, Southern belle as she was, had better clothing and more of it. If only dad were still alive, I thought. We would be much better off and I could be more like her. Not only did I long for material things, I also had an all-consuming lonliness, and alienation, that constantly consumed my thoughts.

I was at Wake Forest University in North Carolina, where I missed my father the most. Maybe if I'd stayed in the North, the loss would have seemed less profound. My mom was there in every way she could have been. But she was a mom. She not and never could have been the dad I wanted so badly.

Nontheless, my time at college taught me to be grateful for all I did have, just as it taugh me that every family has it's challenges. One of my dorm-mates had recently lost a father to a sudden and massive heart attack. Of course, the news came as a shock, but because I'd been through my own father's death, I felt I could help her through it. During the course of living among other girls from all walks of life and circumstances, I discovered that life hands each fo us a mixed bag of blessings.

I graduated with honors, eventually earning an MBA. And in the process, I developed qualities that have since served me well. If given the choice, of course, I would choose to have a loving and very much alive Daddy. But that wasn't God's plan. The void still exists for me without my dad, but I've come to be grateful anyways for how my tenacious and risilient spirit has prevailed.


I very much enjoyed today's dancing, though I never quite got the hang of the Yankee Doodle. My favorite was the Virginia Reel. Till next week!