Reminder

Reposting this because I need to remind myself once in a while that some things will remain constant in my life. And that’s you, Dad.

I need to remind myself why I’m doing what I’m doing right now. Why I want to pursue them and who taught me to be persevering. Big days coming ahead, Dad. Please be with me, and pray for me.


They say there are no coincidences, that the amusing circumstances where two events take place at the same time or one after another is a meaningful design. It may not be easily understood, but it’s something one could appreciate after some thought.


Today is Easter Sunday, and so is my Dad’s 2nd death anniversary. It’s not very easy for me to integrate these two important events of the day in a blog entry, but here goes…
———–

Soon as the visitors left, I went to sit on your bed. I got my exam reviewers back, and had a futile attempt to review. I could not understand anything from what I was reading because it had already been a tiring night. But I held on to my review materials as I also held on to your hand. It was the perfect excuse to stay up late. Truth was, I had no intention of sleeping that night. But my exhaustion got the better of me, my eyes grew heavy, and I fell asleep still holding your hand.

That was our last moment together. I would have wanted my memory to end there, but like in most instances in life, we wait to experience some bitterness in order to let a beautiful end to flourish.

I was awakened by your hand shaking. You were already having seizure and were in respiratory distress. I looked at the time, and it was around 4 in the morning. And from that time on, your vital signs slowly declined. Your eyes were closed, and still having seizure, when I saw tears fell from your eyes. Then your head tilted as if to give in to sleep,  and soon enough you were no longer struggling, but looked very much like a child peacefully sleeping. Songs of prayers resounded in the room. It was around 8am when you finally bid goodbye. The beautiful end was to see you die in peace. You made it, Dad.

I have tried understanding the meaning of death, and I have gone through the process of acceptance. But this understanding and acceptance has not exempted me from helplessly missing you, Dad. I still find myself asking from time to time, ‘Are you still here, Dad? Or are you just at work seeing patients, and that very soon I will welcome you by the door as you get home?’ But the resounding silence to that question reminds me of the truth. I can only go as far as missing you and keeping you in my heart.

The bitter part is already done, and the beautiful end has already unfolded. God had not died only to end things in bitter grief. He has resurrected in order to give Life, and this is the very reason why each of us has a chance to have our own beautiful end.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s