On Its Second Year

 

It is true what they say. In time you will no longer feel much pain. You will keep moving. You’ll finally get used to the absence.

As much as I love him,  I try not to dwell on the thought that we lost him. I try to see it in a different perspective. He lives in us, we carry him in our hearts.

I still cry but not as much as I did. When he crosses my mind I feel sad but I feel much stronger now.

Although there are moments when I can’t help the tears especially when things around me bring vivid memories of him.

Like last night my kids were playing with their Dad. My little girl was walking on his back and saying that she’s giving him a massage. I remembered during our younger days when we would do the same. Tears fell from my eyes.

Just a while ago when we were watching one of our favorite comedy shows, if featured the 1980 something show called Knight Rider. I remembered the talking black car called KITT, that drove super fast, was bulletproof, fireproof, and helped Michael fought injustices in the world. It brought up some childhood memories. My siblings and I were fond of the super powered car that we named our family car, Kit. If I remember it right, our father even put up a moving light in front of our car pretending that we’re really driving Kit! Something like this:

Every morning, to wake up my kids, I put up the curtain and let the sunlight into our bedroom. I talk to them or sing to them just the way our old man did.

I know there will be more reminders along the way. One clear proof that our love ones continue to live…

 

 

Somewhere After Here

Where can you really be?

Is there really a heaven somewhere out there?

Where you meet the other ones

Where you laugh with the angels

And pray with the saints?

Or is it somewhere else any man has never imagined?

I hope the time spent here is not just everything

I hope it is not the end of it all

But if in case it is, then you still shall live

As long as I breathe

 

 

 

 

 

40th Day After Death

It is 12 noon right now, September 12, 2015.  In the Philippines, it is already 3am of September 13. Today is the 4oth day after the death of my father. 

“The 40th Day after death is a traditional memorial service, family gathering, ceremonies and rituals in memory of the departed on the 40th day after his/her death. The 40th Day concludes the 40 day memorial period and has a major significance in traditions of Orthodox Slavs. It is believed that the soul of the departed remains wandering on Earth during the 40 day period, coming back home, visiting places the departed has lived in as well as his fresh grave (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/40th_Day_after_death).”

At around 1am earlier, my daughter woke up. I had to put her back to sleep. I also had to go out of the bedroom to lower down the AC temperature. Something startled me. Walking through the isle, I saw a our radio/cd player was lit up and the radio was on playing music! It was loud and tuned in to our favorite FM station. I was not scared but it gave me goosebumps! I took courage and walked in the dark to unplug the radio/cd player. It happened a couple of times already in the past. I am sure it is an electrical issue or an appliance issue. Maybe it is just a coincidence that it happened now on the 40th day after his passing. Maybe he is saying goodbye?

Rest In Peace my beloved and forever love. You will be truly missed everyday. Your memories will stay in our hearts.

Eternal rest grant unto him O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May his soul through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen. 

After The Burial

Exactly a week ago, we physically said goodbye to our father. It was his interment. Everyday, sadness is a constant feeling in my heart. Mommy Eve and my siblings also feel the same way. We have to deal with it everyday. Memories flood me. I look at his pictures everyday…

I was at the park last Tuesday morning at 8:30 am. While I was looking at the beautiful view, the trees, the magnificent skies, I was remembering that it was the time last week that I was at the Intensive Care Unit watching my father die.

Sometimes it still feels very surreal, how the present time suddenly becomes a past.  I close my eyes and I see I was crying at the airport. Next I see my Tatay suffering everyday. Then I see myself looking at his lifeless body. Followed by the wake and then the burial. Now I am back to my life here in the US carrying all these memories in my heart.

This morning I organized my closet. I set aside all my colorful clothes and put out the black, white, and greys. It is part of the culture/tradition in the Philippines when mourning to wear these colors for a year. So for this remaining year and until August 5, 2016 I shall have my new “wardrobe”. I love wearing bright colors but this time, the black, white and grey completely describe how I feel about losing my father.

I know things will get better in time.  I will just have to go through this. This is part of living, part of being alive. To experience loss of a loved one.

Trivia (Lifted from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mourning#Philippines)

“The Filipino practices for mourning have influences from Chinese, Japanese and folk Catholic beliefs. People may wear white or black. The color red is frowned upon in the time of mourning, it is believed that those who wear red within 9–40 days will die or suffer illness. The consumption of chicken during the wake and funeral is also believed to bring death among the relatives. There is an initial 9-day mourning practice called Pasiyam, a novena is to be prayed by those who are mourning. During those 9 days the spirit of the deceased is believed to be roaming. 40 Days, similar to the Buddhist practice of 49 days, is a folk Filipino Catholic practice of commemorating the dead after 40 days from their death date. A Mass and a small feast are held to commemorate the dead during the 40-day period, the 40th day as their judgment day. The immediate family wear black and when the one-year period is over, the first death anniversary will signal the end of mourning – celebrated by a feast.”