Today is the 3rd death anniversary of my Dad. And I cannot put my thoughts together to write what I wish to say to him. I hesitate, partly, to write this entry for him today, because every time I do, I end up as if I’m writing yet another eulogy for him on his final wake. It’s been three years… I have lived forward, made achievements and met happiness. I have lived forward and made my own failures… It’s been three years and it has already been a whole new life without my dad. And yet, it’s been three years, and I know I will never forget, and never want to forget.
It’s been three years, and I still miss you. As I’ve already realized, I don’t think I could ever not miss you at all. There have been several events in my life where I wished you were still here to give me words of wisdom. But all the same, I look back to the life you’ve lived, and it pretty much answers my questions.
Yours is an epic story. No matter how much I shut my ears listening to your story then, I cannot believe I’ll be looking back one day such as now, and see how you lived such a beautiful and meaningful life. Sure, it was rags to riches, but what you wanted to impart to us was how you persevered and not your degree, how you humbled yourself and not the riches, and how you were still abandoned to God no matter how much knowledge about life and lives you’ve prolonged and saved from dying.
Remember that night before you died? We were talking, and we knew you were just about to say goodbye. It was our last chance to talk with you. And even if all you could do was nod, I had to ask you straightforwardly, will you help me in medicine? You nodded strongly to that question, and I’m holding on to that. Because I know you’re there, I’m keeping myself strong and my hopes up. One day, Dad, we’ll be walking up that stage together, and I know you’ll be smiling with pride to your little girl.
Love you, Dad.