My father was born in Puerto Rico but his family moved to New York City when he was a child. His father died when he was a teenager so he dropped out of school to help his family during the Great Depression. He enlisted, fought in World War II, and was honorably discharged. Unfortunately, like many other minorities, he didn’t receive GI Bill benefits. Without a high school diploma, his work options were limited and humiliating. He worked hard to support his family but he met a tragic end. I was eighteen and a freshman in college.
My mother was a widow for many yers before a very nice man – Don – swept her off her feet. I had already moved to Houston and they were very happy in South River. In 2001, he was diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer. I flew back to NJ to handle issues for a few days before flying back to start a new job at NASA. It was a brief time as care-giver but intense. He was in my old bedroom with stars painted on the ceiling. I was the last person to speak to him: “Look, Don. You’re sleeping under the sky like a summer night.” He died during my visit.
After Don’s death, my sisters and I dealt with our mother’s situation long distance. She couldn’t live alone. We tried a variety of ideas but, in the end, I moved her into a lovely senior facility near me. She was didn’t adapt well. Several months in, she fell and broke her hip. Watching her suffer and dealing with medical professionals with hidden agendas made things worse. Just over a year after Don, she died unnecessarily. I was horrified and there was no family or friends to help. I also had to figure out where to bury her and it was far away.
In 2001, I went through intense training with other future flight controllers. By fall, I was working console and took time to move my mother to Houston. There was plenty of work for everyone. I completed one certification as flight controller and was working towards the next when my mother died. There was no support group for care-givers. In the workplace, some co-workers had yet to develop professional skills. It was miserable and no one listened to my concerns. I was terminated in 2005. I was now doubly traumatized and I couldn’t even work.
In 2008, younger sister was diagnosed with ALS. Unfortunately, my personal situation kept me from staying with her during the last year of her life. I flew out three times for a few weeks and learned how to use a Hoyer lift, adult gait trainer, wheelchair operation, and scheduling medications. It was horrible and emotionally draining to watch her suffer. I was devastated when she died in her early fifties.
After my mother’s death, I bought a house. It was a close to NASA and such a refuge. There were windows all around and a courtyard in front with a fountain. I had an office filled with books and made the dining room into an art studio. It was 2008 when I didn’t realize I was behind in mortgage payments. They had been automatic and my sister was dying. The bank wouldn’t work with me. I was aggressively evicted from my house. No one was listening to me.
Engineer Torres 