Of Death and Acceptance

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

When I found nothing written to comfort me, I wrote my own.

My absence from the blogging world would only mean something happened to me or to my family that I could not have the time to squeeze in a few hours to write. My dad passed away on Monday of the Holy Week. It was my parent’s 40th year wedding anniversary.



The fact that it took me a longer time to write about it could mean something more. It meant that I wasn’t able to put down into words the loneliness and sadness I feel in my heart with his passing.  Many times the words seemed to fail me. The emptiness, the pain, the sadness , it was all too much. Words have failed me. I felt that being able to write about it would mean acceptance, acceptance for the fact that he is gone, and never to return forever.

Some people say that life goes on and it’s time to move on. But it’s just not true, because I don’t know if I’d be able to move on that quick. I may not at all. True that I have come to accept his passing, I have conditioned my mind to that thought about years ago, but no matter how you think or feel you are ready for the time when  one of your parents die, there would always be something that would make you wish it wasn’t true. No one would ever be ready to have their parents or parent die.



No son or daughter is ever too old not to cry like a child when a parent dies and you come to face the reality that they would never come back.

My life is forever changed.

It’s been almost three weeks since he left us, but the pain is still here. When he was dying, I prayed and we lifted up his life to God’s will. I prayed that if it was time for God to bring home my father, at least make the pain bearable for us and give us the grace of acceptance.

It’s been this long and yet I still cry so much as if the tears will never stop flowing. I cry at night before I sleep because I know that I don’t have a dad anymore and that a part of my being has changed and died with him too. I cry when I wake up In the morning because I realize that I have a whole new day to survive without having my dad around anymore.

Somebody asked me how my relationship was with my dad when he was still alive. I thought that it was a weird question and irrelevant, because no matter what kind of relationship you had with your parents, their passing would be the biggest grief you would ever have to experience as a son or daughter.


Can you really base the depth of your grief with the kind of relationship you had when they were still alive? Your grief would  be measured by the numbers of opportunities you missed telling and showing them how much you loved and cared for them, by the regrets that you have with not taking every opportunity to call them when you could and realizing that it’s too late now to do those things.
The lines to heaven is super busy, it is taking forever for them to pick up your call.

I miss my father. But what I miss more than the times that we spent with him the last 5 years of his life, were the times that I was given the privilege of experiencing him longer than the rest of my siblings did. He was a big man and until the day he died, he was still the big man to me. I thank God for giving us the opportunity to be able to spend precious times with him before he was called home.

I thank God that I had the opportunity of dancing with him not just once but many times while I was growing up. A dance is a special gift fathers give to daughters.  I am honored to have received such gift in this lifetime.



He is gone now. But his memory, his scent, his presence is still felt in the house, in our hearts  and in our lives. He may not have been a perfect person, but to us he was the perfect dad. No weakness or shortcomings of his can ever change that. 

In memoriam.


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