COLUMN: It has been one year since my dad returned to Mexico and the struggle continues

There are days when I wake up with the urge to pack my bags, buy the first ticket to Mexico and not look back. And even though I, along with many other undocumented immigrants, am familiar with this feeling, the sudden impulse to return to the place where I was born has been knocking at my door with the greatest intensity this last year.

I'm sure the reason for my longing to leave is my father’s absence. It’s been one year since my dad permanently returned to his hometown in Queretaro, Mexico, and I stayed behind in Los Angeles. The evening of November 28, 2022, was the last day I held and hugged my dad, unsure of when I’d see him again.

In L.A. County, there are about 3.6 million immigrants, making up over one-third of the total population. Many of them are away from their primary family.

My dad decided to return to the place that saw him grow up, after a few health complications in 2021. He and I both knew what that meant. He was never to return to the U.S. and I would only be able to see him again if I too left for Mexico, a complicated situation due to my immigration status.

Initially, I thought time would help the distance between us and that I would get used to his absence as time went by. I had never hoped so much that phrases like “time heals all" would prove to be true. But time, instead of helping wounds heal, is a constant reminder of how hard it is to live without the people you love.

The holiday season was extra special for me and my father. We would attend the family Christmas posadas together; he was the light of the party for me. While he was receiving in-home care, my favorite thing to do was to spend the weekend at his house and eat meals with him while listening to Mexican classics from artists like “Los Temerarios,” “Grupo Bryndis,” “Luis Miguel,” among others.

Even miles away, on November 28, we both woke up knowing it had been a year since he left. I called him on my way to work and he wished me a happy day.

“It’s been a year, and it's almost as if it were just yesterday. So many things have happened, that I still haven't been able to fully grasp. But I hope, with the help of God, to see my daughter soon. That’s what I wish for the most. But I’m very happy to be with my mom, dad and siblings,” my dad wrote in a Facebook post that afternoon.

My dad decided to return to his country after a near-fatal health scare that landed him in the Adventist Health White Memorial Hospital’s emergency room in August 2022, in the middle of my last undergraduate semester. Latinos, like my dad, are more likely to have type 2 diabetes (12%) than non-Hispanic White people (7%), according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

My father's untreated diabetes and a rapidly growing infection, caused by an ulcer (open sore) on his left leg, left him in a hospital bed for three weeks and at home, in-bed care for an additional six months, during which I was his primary caregiver.

At the hospital, he had to go through amputation of a major part of his foot for the infection to not spread to other extremities of his upper leg. During his recovery at home, he was unable to walk or move without support. I had to learn how to inject insulin, check his blood pressure, clean his wound and memorize his dietary needs as a diabetic. This was a routine that I would do two to three times a day, before and after returning from school. Those days were challenging for both of us, especially as we were not living under the same roof.

In the hospital, after his amputation surgery, he told me that day marked 16 years since his arrival in the U.S. “16 years ago today, I arrived, and when I go, I’ll be leaving without a piece of my foot,” he said to me, trying not to cry. Moments later, after I translated into Spanish the recovery process from his doctor, he told me he wanted to return to Mexico and see his mother, his dad, and his siblings. “Ya es tiempo,” he told me.

And as much as I would have liked for him to stay with me in this foreign country, I knew my dad wanted to return home and I knew that his homeland was calling out for him, and after 17 years in this country, he answered.

Although my dad has been able to embrace his family again and look after my grandparents, who are aging quickly and also have other health complications, life back in Mexico has not been easy for him.

My dad has developed a common eye disease that, if untreated, can lead to complete blindness in working-age adults. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the disease known as diabetic retinopathy is caused when high blood sugar damages blood vessels in the retina, which can swell and leak, causing blurry vision or stopping blood flow.

Last month, I also received the news that my dad was back in the hospital. He had fractured a toe in the same leg as his amputation, causing his leg to swell up. Unfortunately, my dad had to go through a second amputation and is now recovering. Infections are known to spread quickly within a diabetic body and, if not treated quickly, can lead to amputations.

Navigating the healthcare system in Mexico is also complicated, especially for a person who has returned after 17 years in a different country. My dad is learning about primary care institutions, the costs of seeking care and the overall process as he goes.

According to the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (www.oecd.org), Mexico is placed on the tail end of countries with the lowest investment in health from the Gross National Income (GNI) with 6.4%. Medical attention is offered through public or private care. My father is one of 50% of people who do not qualify for public care, which is subsidized by the federal government, and must depend on private care, which is much more costly.

My dad always tries to keep a positive attitude. I believe his devotion to Catholicism helps, but I know losing part of his foot for a second time weighs on him, some days more than others. I wish I was there for him during these moments. I wish I could help him in his recovery process by cleaning his wounds, taking him to his doctor's appointments and being his emotional support through all of this.

I miss him every day and he is often my first thought when I wake up and my last before going to bed. For now, I will only be able to see him through a FaceTime call this holiday season. The knock on my door from my homeland to return and be with my dad will remain unanswered, but I hope the day when we meet again comes soon.