I just woke up from a three-hour nap after my father was finally rested.
I usually arrive home from work-gym at this hour so I went downstairs hoping I could see some skin flakes scattered around the living room. He has this habit of scraping his hardworking hands after taking his bath every night while watching the evening news. But no one was there.
I tried checking our printing press, reminiscing all the fruitful years he stayed there to support his family when we could still practically feel his unconditional love and affection to my Mama and my siblings.
I have the last pack of his cigarettes and broken eyeglasses before he was shot down. These are inside my box where I store my most crappy memorable things I had in my life.
I tried cracking some jokes when I delivered my eulogy, yet, no one responded. This practically means that they in deep despair when he parted us.
I am still waiting for any sign that he is around watching over us; any dream to advise or give his last messages as no premonition was felt before he was gunned down last Friday.
I just noticed that the time he was killed was also the time he went out of the crematorium and grinder and put into ashes. I could still feel the warmth of his cremains when the mortician handed me the metal urn at Loyola Crematorium.
And then I realized that this post all starts with I. This was never his attitude towards us. He always made sure that it was ‘us’ first who will get the big part of dinner when we were at the dining table; that he would extend his help by going to the drugstore when we were sick; that he provided us with decent shelter so we would sleep peacefully in times of bad weather; that he found ways to accept even to our most minute imperfection as he was very proud of us; and that he made us independent individuals guided by his nurture and care from the moment he met my mother and we had our first breath.
This is one of the hardest parts of saying goodbye, when you are left alone. It gets harder when you think of him, regardless if these are bad or good memories. I just hope that every time he crosses my mind, every time I mourn and each time the mastermind and the gunmen look at their loved ones, it does get better for the common good. This was technically not his principle because we know that he would fight for it fairly until the end.
Papa, you are definitely a hero not just to us, but to people whom you have affected. It just saddens me because I know if I had put more effort in showing my genuine appreciation to all of the deeds and sacrifices you have done and concurred, you would have been more fulfilled for the past 56 years you existed. What is most painful is that you had to die with sudden excruciating pain without saying farewell.
Naiinis ako kase sobrang namimiss na kita. Sobrang sakit. Please, tulungan mo kame.
Again, to all people who condoled with us and left messages through any media, on behalf of my family, I really appreciate your sympathies. Thank you for including my Papa to your prayers.
One thing I learned with this life-changing event, please show your affection to those whom you love because you never know when you will have no chance to let them feel that you love them.