Padre:
Siempre has sido luz y has dado mas de lo que tubistes por todos y mas por tus hijos y tu familia, aun recuerdo una frase que expresaba en pocas palabras lo que tu siempre has sido para nosotros " ES MEJOR TENER MAS LUZ EN LAS MANOS QUE RUIDO EN LA BOCA" este porverbio apache simplifica en poco lo que tu siempre has sido , yo hace mas de 4 años que no te tenia cerca de mi , mis hijos tampoco pero siempre tu recuerdo esta con nosotros, mas aun ahora que recordamos tu optimismo tu tezon, honestidad e integridad que en estos dias es muy dificil de ver en alguna persona.
Se que Dios me premio con el mejor padre del mundo y quizas por ello ahora nesesita que estes en el cielo padre, aveces todo esto me parece un sueño y espero quisas despertar y saber que vendras a tu casa a Peru y descanses donde siempre quisistes hacerlo, pero solo DIOS SABE, yo estoy seguro que la vida nunca acaba para personas como tu que solo supister dar amor sin medida, te tendremos siempre vivo como ayer como hoy y como siempre.

Siempre tendré gratos recuerdos de mi tio Omer, un ejemplo de lucha, tenacidad e inmenso amor a su familia. Era muy exigente pero muy bueno y de un corazon enorme. 

Me ayudo y ayudo a mi familia cuando lo necesitamos. Lo llevaremos siempre en el corazon.

Abuelito tus palabras vivirán en mi alma y las recordaré cada mañana. Perdón porque a pesar de haberte tenido, contigo núnca he pasado tanto tiempo como hubiese podido. Nunca me olvidare de los ultimos dias que pase contigo. Te quiero mucho y te extraño.

To my Dad.
I am Ricardo Bartra, the second oldest son of Omer Bartra, and I want to tell you about my Dad and the amazing story of his live, his enduring love, his kindness and the role model he was for his children and the ones that came to know him. My father was born in the Amazon jungle of Peru between 1936 and 1940, he was the last child of seven brothers and sisters and when he was born premature, he was believed to be dead and was set aside as a stillborn baby would in a limited health-care conditions of the threshold towns between the jungles of Peru and near town of Tarapoto. As a newborn baby he was nursed by someone else given that my abuelita Jovita (grandma) was ill. In his infancy, he was loved greatly by his Mom and through his early childhood he had to learn the ways of the jungle as he lived in the small town of San Antonio de Cumbaza where civilization began and where the highest education level at local school was only fifth grade. My Dad had a rough beginning, his father passed away when he was seven. I will never forget the stories he told me of a child walking through misty mountains of the Peruvian jungles transporting coffee beans, yucca roots or basic means for living or while navigating the rivers Tigris and Marañon as young helper transporting cattle on makeshift balsas to the bigger cities of the Jungle in Peru. 

But God had a different plan for him “Life” was not going to let this young soul full of hopes, determination and expectations to go unnoticed; as a youngster he came in contact with English missionaries in the jungles of Peru. A nun with the name of Ms. Megan Jones gave my Father the unique opportunity to advance his education and find the “platform” he needed to move to the coastal cities of Peru and to pursue a different future. My father was eventually accepted in the Military School of San Jose in Chiclayo, Peru and then eventually admitted in the Peruvian Army Academy of Chorrillos but given he had little or no money to pay for the required sponsorship and guaranty he instead moved into the Police of Investigations of Peru NCO Academy. My Dad was the “Brigadier General” of his class, and graduated as number one and with this; he started a successful 28 year career in the Peruvian Federal Police of Investigations. He met my Mom in 1962/1963, they married and had my oldest brother Homar, then me, Jorge, eventually years later Cesar and Eduardo.
 
As a child our life was not ostentatious given the economic situation in Peru, but it was full of love and hopes. I remember vividly my father coming home at nights and while I was sleeping he would hold my hand, kiss me and tell me “I love you my son“– he did this with every one of my brothers and through the years that warm hand of steel meant so much during my growing years. You see, it did not matter we did not have great big things – what we had was far more important; we had someone that truly loved us, cared for us, and more importantly cared for our futures. I always remember him as this handsome gentle man in a suit and a gun strapped to his chess. He worked hard in dangerous situations during the years of terrorism in Peru and rose through the ranks of his institution. There were times as a child that we would see my Dad as security running next to the presidential motorcade, or running next to the Pope motorcade. Eventually he worked in National Security and Intelligence. He was a great person and role model, honest, responsible and disciplined; he was focused on doing the right things the right way.

In the late 70's early 80's my father completed his second University degrees in Physics and Mathematics from the Catholic University to prepare for the great depression and economic instability that came to Peru. We had an inflation index of one thousand % per year; salaries were not worth the paper of the currency printed on. And during those times my father would work three jobs… in addition to his responsibilities he would take his green WW beetle to Taxi and when feasible he would teach to compensate the hard-times of the realities in Peru. He always told us “Son, the only inheritance I can give you is your education, work hard, be responsible and diligent to achieve it” and we did, my father would make sure each of us was focused on achieving what I call “the platform for our futures”. Despite of the of the circumstances, when my oldest brother and I got our first scholarships to come to the US right a high school, he ensure he was there to support us in every step of the way as this was the springboard to our own futures – in his mind, this was proportional and similar to the opportunity he had in the jungle when the English missionaries helped him to move to better future.

My oldest brother Homar became a very successful Physician here in the Austin area, I graduated from  Peruvian Air Force Academy and the US Naval Postgraduate School in Monterey California and have a successful corporate career Globally and the US. Jorge went to study Economy at the Catholic University where my Dad graduated from and Cesar studied Nursing. All with one common denominator my Dad's support, guidance and relentless love to encourage us for something better each day. 

When we moved to the US – Early 1990's, Dad became a US Citizen and physician assistant working closely for my brother Homar's clinic for many years. Always smiling, always positive and always loving his children and grandchildren. As of few years ago, Dad would still play soccer, basketball, swim like a fish and dance at night... he was strong, he was happy and he was humble. That's not to say he wasn't proud – he was. He wasn't vain at all. He was the most down-to-earth person you could know. But he was proud in all the right ways, he was proud of the accomplishments that would build successful lives and he transmitted that into my own children.

As the time went by, my father became obsessed in returning to the jungles of Peru. He not only wanted to walk the trails he traversed during his childhood, he wanted to live the rest of his days in the land where he was born to be closer to the memory and resting place of his beloved mother. And despite of our concern we helped him to do exactly that, to honor and respect his wishes… He bought a beautiful place next to the river he used to bathe at when he was a young child; he had a huge garden with grapes, coconuts, plantains, and a jungle view with the wild sounds of nature, all around him. As romantic as this was, this decision cost my father's health, over the last three years, we brought him back three times in emergency situations, and each time he got well and returned to this very simple but mystical place in the jungle of Peru. His increased illness was not sufficient to convince him that the jungle that had seen him born was consuming his life… at least until it was too late. 

My father had plans, he wanted to build and live in the jungle for the years to come, so he could show his grandchildren and love ones where he came from. He was proud on the nature that surrounded him, and while helping others there, he wanted to find peace in a familiar place of his childhood… whether my Dad was born in 1936, 1937 or 1939 is uncertain as he was likely older than what we thought... he had to be, and although his birth certificate had date and year, we came to understand that in a place like the one where he was born, there is no registration office, there is no ER room equipped to deliver a premature baby and record its existence, it was the jungle; it was a different reality.

Since I was kind I can truly say that my father is my hero; I have seen that hero come through as he fought against his illness with determination and hopes to gain more time to be around with his love ones… He never quite accepted his own greatness, all he had done, all the lives he had positively impacted or the incredible good he did in the world. I do not believe he understood that his determination, passion for life and goodness is forged in my soul and it is part of who I am today.

As I write this down and I get ready to depart to Texas, I realize, I haven't come to terms with the fact that I will never have another conversation with my father again, or that I will never again receive a call from him with advice and with an “I love you son” as he always did… and that hurts me in deepest parts of my soul. I am sad he did no stay a little longer to share with him how much I loved him and how much he meant to each of us. He knew his journey was coming to an end and he wasn't going to have time for the things we wanted to do... in his mind there were still hills to be claimed, debates to be had, smiles to be seen and prayers to be said and it is with a heavy heart and deepest sorrow I have to say good bye to my friend, to my teacher, to my corner of strength, to my Father… Although sadness will come and go, the memories of a great Father will never be replaced or forgotten!

Thank you, Dad, for being the most incredible Father I could have ever wanted. Thank you for making me want to make the world a better place and for, along with mother, showing me a path to do so. Thank you for making sure that I have known I was loved every day of my life.

I love you, Dad, and I'll miss you forever... Ricardo

To my Dad.

I am Ricardo Bartra, the second oldest son of Omer Bartra, and I want to tell you about my Dad and the amazing story of his live, his enduring love, his kindness and the role model he was for his children and the ones that came to know him. My father was born in the Amazon jungle of Peru between 1936 and 1940, he was the last child of seven brothers and sisters and when he was born premature, he was believed to be dead and was set aside as a stillborn baby would in a limited health-care conditions of the threshold towns between the jungles of Peru and near town of Tarapoto. As a newborn baby he was nursed by someone else given that my abuelita Jovita (grandma) was ill. In his infancy, he was loved greatly by his Mom and through his early childhood he had to learn the ways of the jungle as he lived in the small town of San Antonio de Cumbaza where civilization began and the highest education level at local school was fifth grade. My Father had a rough beginning, his Dad passed away when he was seven. I will never forget the stories he told me of a child walking through misty mountains of the Peruvian jungles transporting coffee beans, yucca roots or basic means for living or navigating the rivers Tiggris and Marañon as young helper transporting cattle on makeshift balsas to the bigger cities of the Jungle in Peru. 

But destiny played its role with him and “Life” was not to forget this soul full of hopes, determination and expectations; as a youngster he came in contact with English missionaries in the jungles of Peru. A nun with the name of Ms. Megan Jones gave my Father the unique opportunity to advance his education and find the “platform” he needed to move to the coastal cities of Peru and to pursue a different future. My Dad was eventually accepted in the Military School of San Jose in Chiclayo, Peru and then eventually admitted in the Peruvian Army Academy of Chorrillos but given he had little or no money to pay for the required sponsorship and guaranty he instead moved into the Police of Investigations of Peru NCO Academy. My Dad was the “Brigadier General” of his class, and graduated number one and with this; he started a successful 28 year career in the Peruvian Federal Police of Investigations. He met my Mom in 1962/1963, they married and had my oldest brother Homar, then me, Jorge, eventually years later Cesar and Eduardo. 

As a child our life was not ostentatious given the economic situation in Peru, but it was full of love and hopes. I remember vividly my father coming home at nights and while I was sleeping he would hold my hand, kiss me and tell me “I love you my son“– he did this with every one of my brothers and through the years that warm hand of still meant so much during my growing years. You see, it did not matter we did not have great big things – what we had was far more important; we had someone that truly loved us, cared for us, and more importantly cared for our futures. I always remember him as this handsome gentle man in a suit and a gun strapped to his chess. He worked hard in dangerous situations during the years of terrorism in Peru and rose through the ranks of his institution. There were times as a child that we would see my Dad as security running next to the presidential motorcade, or running next to the Pope motorcade. Eventually he worked in National Security and Intelligence. He was a great person, honest, responsible and disciplined; he was focused on doing the right things the right way.

In the late 70's early 80's my father completed his second University level degrees in Physics and Mathematics from the Catholic University to prepare for the great depression and economic instability that came to Peru. We had an inflation index of one thousand % per year; salaries were not worth the paper of the currency printed on. And during those times my father would work three jobs… in addition to his responsibilities he would take his green WW beatle to Taxi and when feasible he would teach to compensate the hard-times of the realities in Peru. He always told us “Son, the only inheritance I can give you is your education, work hard, be responsible and diligent to achieve it” and we did, my father would make sure each of us was focused on achieving what I call “the platform for our futures”. Despite of the of the circumstances, when my oldest brother and I got our first scholarships to come to the US at early age, he ensure he was there to support it in every way he could as this was the springboard to our future – proportionally and similar to his opportunity in the jungle when the English missionaries helped him to move to better future.

My oldest brother Homar became a very successful Physician here in the Austin area, I graduated from  Peruvian Air Force Academy and the US Naval Postgraduate School in Monterey California and have a successful corporate career Globally and the US. Jorge went to study Economy at the Catholic University where my Dad graduated from and Cesar studied Nursing. All with one common denominator my Dad's support, guidance and relentless love to encourage us for something better each day. 

When we moved to the US – Early 1990's, Dad became a US Citizen and physician assistant working closely for my brother Homar's clinic for many years. Always smiling, always positive and always loving his children and grandchildren. As of few years ago, Dad would still play soccer, basketball, swim like a fish and dance at night... he was strong, he was happy and he was humble.  That's not to say he wasn't proud – he was. He wasn't vain at all. He was the most down-to-earth person you could know. But he was proud in all the right ways, he was proud of the accomplishments that would build platforms successful lives and he transmitted that into my own children.

As the time went by, my father became obsessed in returning to the jungles of Peru. He not only wanted to walk the trails he traversed during his childhood, he wanted to live the rest of his days in the land where he was born to be closer to the memory and resting place of his beloved mother. And despite of our concern and disappointment, we helped him to do exactly that, to honor his wishes and out of respect… He bought a beautiful place next to the river he used bathe when he was a child, he had a huge garden with grapes, coconuts, plantains, and a jungle view with the wild sounds of nature, all around him. As romantic as this was, this decision cost my father's health, over the last three years, we brought him back three times in emergency situations, and each time he got well and returned to this very simple but mystical place in the jungle of Peru. His increased illness was not sufficient to convince him that the jungle that had seen him born was consuming his life… at least until it was too late. 

My father had plans, he wanted to build and live in the jungle for the years to come, so he could show his grandchildren and love ones where he came from he was proud on the nature that surrounded him, and while helping others there, he wanted to find peace in a familiar place of his childhood… whether my Dad was born in 1936, 1937 or 1939 is uncertain as he was likely older than what we thought... he had to be, and although his birth certificate said a date and year, we came to understand that in the place like the one where he was born, there is no registration office, there is ER room equipped to deliver a premature baby and record its existence, it was the jungle; it was a different reality.

My father is my hero; even as he fought against his illness with determination and hopes to gain more time to be around with his love ones… He never quite accepted his own greatness, all he had done, all the lives he had positively impacted or the incredible good he did in the world. His determination, passion for life and goodness is forged in my mind and it is part of who I am today.
As I write this down, I realize, I haven't come to terms with the fact that I will never have another conversation with my father again, or that I will never again receive a call from him with advice and with an “I love you son” as he always did… and that hurts me in deepest parts of my soul. And as much as anything else, I am sad he did no stay a little longer to share with him how much I loved him. He knew the journey was coming to closure and he wasn't going to have time for the things we wanted to do... there were still hills to be claimed, debates to be had, smiles to be seen and prayers to be said and it is with a heavy heart and deepest sorrow I have to say good bye to my friend, to my teacher, to my corner of strength, my Father… Although sadness will come and go, the memories of a great Father will never be replaced or forgotten!

Thank you, Dad, for being the most incredible father I could have ever wanted. Thank you for making me want to make the world a better place and for, along with mother, showing me a path to do so. Thank you for making sure that I have known I was loved every day of my life.

I love you, Dad, and I'll miss you forever. Ricardo

OBITUARIO

Omer S. Bartra

17 febrero, 1941 – 13 enero, 2013

Zoeller Funeral Home

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