Neurotic Old Man

Neurotic old man, addicted to control,
how alike we are,
and yet how different…
two eagles of the world, two solitary hearts.

You raised me and educated me; under your shadow I grew.
Back in ’78, a stroke of fortune
took us to old Europe—just the two of us.

You gave me love and companionship,
even when your days filled with solitude,
your nights… were not spent alone.

Addicted to life, to idealism and freedom,
two kindred souls who would give nothing less
than their own blood
to be accepted by that paternal figure
hidden behind the fragile veil
of a firm fist—eternal authority.

Afternoons passed between basketball games
and walks through Casa de Campo,
where through stories you shaped my mind,
my soul, my body… my being.

We were alone in a foreign land,
one we devoured and claimed,
jealous of our time, our bond,
while the Mediterranean fed our dreams.

We turned the earth into our neighborhood,
just as the southern streets once were for you.
Time passed, and I saw myself in you:
your dreams became mine,
your words… my sustenance.

In those days, between play and discovery,
I learned about feelings from you,
even as I sailed my toy boat in the pool
while you chased your conquests.

Your wings kept growing, and with time
they carried us to other lands—
to the land of the mouse,
and even to that of Cantinflas…
but direction didn’t matter, only the reckless adventure.

Time passed, and adolescence came.
I hated you, rejected you…
I insisted on opposing you.
But no matter what I did,
or how far I drifted…
you always cared for me.

I repeated old mistakes to prove
that history was not written,
that you had failed in taking me from my family—
but fate would bitterly take my joy:
my son… who is no longer by my side.

Time passed, and your wings grew even more.
When I searched for you, I found only your shadow—
faint, yet filled with solitude.
You spoke of justice, helped society,
under a light blue flag you later left behind.

In search of my truth, I returned to the land we left in ’78…
a land that saw me born, but not raised.
Its customs felt foreign, and despite the embrace
of family, solitude was my closest companion.

Neurotic old man, addicted to control,
how alike we are,
and yet how different…
two eagles of the world, two solitary hearts.

Old friend, how alike we are…
lovers of life and challenge,
addicted to work and dreams.
Your wings still move with the wind,
while my roots grow in this land of no one.

Our stories mirror each other,
but at some point I understood
that I was the owner of my life.
And I learned that control is nothing more than an illusion—
one that binds the soul and dries the heart.

Today you take another flight,
and we have not even shaken hands.
Another brief visit, another rushed conversation,
another life update, another approval sought.
Neurotic old man—today your son is your friend,
and that young man who once idealized you,
then hated you… now admires your heart.

The years pass, and I don’t want you to think
that a single day goes by without your memory
crossing my mind.
You are a complex being—
full of love and contradiction,
of dreams and reality,
of love and solitude.
A labyrinth without end…
not meant to be solved, only lived
until one day you choose to set solitude aside.

Spread your wings, old friend.
The world still needs your passion for justice,
your love for work,
and that half-smile of yours.
Fly to other lands, but don’t forget—
your greatest audience remains here…
this eagle, wings folded,
whose unconditional love
waits quietly at your feet.

Neurotic old man, old friend,
old hero of my dreams and adventures,
my pride and my ideal of what a man can be.
My father, who now flies—
I await your return…
but today, I do not wait alone.

Safe travels. Bonna Nit.