"Papa please please stop crying, your tears are hurting my heart. Why did this have to happen? Why do bad things happen to innocent people?” I pleaded.
 My father comes from a family with strong Spanish/Italian views, where men are strong and never show signs of weakness.  He always is teaching me life lessons in almost every situation I find myself in whether it’s how to compete in sports or simply acknowledging people as they pass by and I thought this situation would be just like that.  However I would see the greatest life lesson, I would learn would be one that I was shown not taught.  I just watched him and learned the hard way how to be loving, giving, and protective. 
            My family is large, loud, and there aren’t many boundaries.  I would say its  your stereotypical Spanish/Italian family. A lot of people say we would make a great really show.   I have grandma’s, aunts, cousins, and uncles that are always around The difference, I think between my family and others is my fathers bond with his brothers, my uncles.  It is not your typical brother relationship, it is almost as if my father is more of a father figure to them.  Unfortunately, my father and his brothers were severely abused as children, which forced my father to take more of a father figure role with his brothers from a very early age.  Protecting them and financially providing for them was his driving force.  I would always hear stories about their past and I knew that my father loved his brothers deeply but it was not until that day in late July that I saw it for myself. 
            “They can’t find the heartbeat, Gringa! They can’t find the heartbeat.” Uncle Guillo screamed into the phone to my mom.
            It was an early Tuesday morning and I had just came back from training and immediately knew from the look on my mom’s face that something was terrible wrong.  I did not fully understand what was going on, but I knew it wasn’t good.
            “Hurry, Martin, we need to get to the hospital something is wrong with the baby,” my mom yelled as she ran down the steps.
            My father quickly found the keys and we rushed to the hospital. As we arrived to the hospital, I was scared what I would see.  My father noticed the look in my eyes.  He grabbed my hands and turned to me and said.
            “Nico, this is not going to easy, but I need you to be strong.  The most important thing is you need to be there for Uncle Guillo.”
            Uncle Guillo and I always had a strong bond. Probably because it was important to my father that I was close with him.  He even named me after him. 
            “Ok, papa, I can be strong.” I said with tears in my eyes.
            We walked hand in hand into the room and there they were. Aunt Olga looked normal, still with a big old belly.  Uncle Guillo looked nervous and concerned. My father immediately went into protective mode and asked the doctor to meet him outside.
            “Can you explain to me what is going on?” My father asked.
            “I am sorry but there is no heartbeat, the baby is full term and she will have to delivery a stillborn.” The doctor said sympathetically.
            “Are  you sure, can we try to one more time to see, to see if we can hear a heartbeat?” What if they have made a mistake? What if the baby is in distress and just needs to come out?”  My father pleaded.
            “I know this is very difficult to hear and to understand.  I would be more than happy to try again”  The doctor agreed.
            The doctor and my father walked back into the room.  They hooked aunt Olga up to a heart monitor. We all held hands and started  to pray.  You could hear a pin drop in the room.  I had never wanted to hear a thump more in that moment. I could hear it in my mind, I could feel it in my heart.  We waited and waited.  Nothing, nothing, nothing.  They removed the heart monitor from Aunt Olga and we knew he was gone.  My father began to cry.  I had never seen my father cry before. It was the hardest thing to watch.  I began to cry, the whole room began to cry.
 I turned to my father and said,  “Papa please please stop crying, your tears are hurting my heart. Why did this have to happen? Why do bad things happen to innocent people?”
“I don’t know Nico, I just don’t know.” He said.
Things moved slowly over the next couple of hours.  The room was dark and quiet and there was a black dove on the outside of the door leading into their hospital room.  I later learned that this symbolized a room where a stillborn was going to be delivered.  I did not understand the reason behind this, but at least every doctor, nurse, and technician that entered the room did so quietly and somberly. 
We waited at the hospital until Luca was delivered.  My parents did not let me go into the room, but I wished I could have I wanted to be there for them.   I watched my father hold his brother, like they way he has held my younger siblings when they got hurt.  It felt like hours went by and no one moved.  The love that was felt that night was something that I will never forget.         
The next couple of days were hard, but I watched and learned as my father dealt with a difficult situation.  We had never experienced death in our family, so everything was new.  My father took charge, it is what he has always done with his family.  This time though I saw a softer side to my father.
The hospital discharge came in and my Uncle had to sign the death certificate.
“May I see the paper please?  I will have him sign it.” My father stated.
The lady handed my father the paper and he looked over it.  He then went across the room and gave Uncle Guillo a pen to sign. As he laid the paper down he covered Luca Gramatica’s name with his hand.
“Sign here.” My father said to Uncle Guillo.
Uncle Guillo signed without even thinking about it. 
“Why did you cover his name, Papa?’ I asked my father as we got into the car.
“I did not want him to see his name, Nico.  Think about it, it was the first time he would see his son’s name written down on paper and that paper would have the words DEATH CERTIFICATE written at the top it. He has been through a lot the last two days and I thought this would add more pain to the situation.”  He said sympathetically.
That day we drove from the hospital right to the funeral home.  My father sat for hours with the funeral director.  I remember him telling me that he wanted to organize everything for Uncle Guillo so that the only thing he would have to do is show up at the funeral.  The day seemed to take for ever.  He had to pick out the location in the cemetery, the casket, and organize how the funeral would go.  My father seemed exhausted, but wanted to make sure that everything was perfect for Guillo and make an extremely difficult day for him as easy as it could possibly be. 
The funeral was a beautiful as it could be.  God gave us a slight breeze on what would normally be an extremely hot July day and plenty of cloud cover without any rain.   My father and and his brother, Santiago, carried the 3 foot casket, which brought even more tears among us and those in attendance.   We sang, prayed, and cried together. My father spoke and talked about how important family was and how much God has blessed us and that no mater what happens in life you can always depend on family to be there.
I look back on that day and realize how important that experience was to our family.  The protection, giving, and  love that my father provided to Guillo was probably one of the best lessons I have ever learned in my life.  He taught me that as an older brother you must be the one that takes care of your younger siblings.  My father always tells me that if something ever happened to him that I would have to step up and now through his teachings I am confident that if I needed to I would know how.