Over a year ago, I lost a man with an infectious laugh, an undeniable love for sweets and cycling, and absolutely no fear of showing his tears whenever something touched his heart.
He also loved it when I tried to bully him. Unfortunately, it would always backfire on me. Bugger!!
I miss him. Sometimes I cry, but more than anything, I miss being able to tease him, annoy him and have him around to laugh about it.
The older I get, the more I realise just how much of him lives in me.
Truth be told, when I was a teenager, I used to get offended whenever someone compared me to my dad. Funny how life works. Over the years, those layers peeled away, and I began to see the man behind the comparison. The man who was my dad. Mi Coco.
I am so grateful to have photographs with you dad, they mean the world!!!
Today, I wear my PEDROZA surname with honour and pride. And if I'm a photocopy of that man, then I couldn't be happier about it.
I've never been particularly fond of tombstones. I understand their purpose, but I wanted something different. Something with meaning. Something I could connect with. Something alive.
So, with a little help from my favourite uncle (a man with the greenest fingers and a love and respect for nature like no other), I decided to plant a little orange tree.
And not just anywhere.
My dad loved cycling. He spent nearly six decades of his life on a bicycle, and this was one of his favourite routes. So I took this little tree from my hometown, Sevilla, Valle del Cauca, and brought it up to the mountains overlooking the Valle del Cauca, where we planted it.
It might take 8 to 15 years before this little tree grows big enough to bear fruit. But that's alright. I'm not in a hurry.
One day, a cyclist might be riding along on a scorching hot afternoon, stop for a moment, pick an orange from this tree and find a little energy to continue their journey.
They might never know who planted it, or why.
But I'll know.
And somehow, I like the thought that a little piece of my dad will continue giving something back to the very cycling community he dedicated so much of his life to.
For now, it's just a tiny tree on a mountain. But one day, it will be so much more.
Happy birthday, Coco.
I hope I get to see your tree grow, and perhaps one day, enjoy its first orange.
Te quiero, viejo. ❤️
