It must be the most excruciatingly painful experience of my life at this point. The loss of my dad. Even looking at my twin nieces, the joys of our lives, makes my heart feel like someone is wringing it dry. Remembering how my dad’s singing made them so excited that they would coo their hearts out along with his voice makes my heart sink to my gut.
The other day, I went to the bank with my aunt. My eyes burned with unshed tears under the fluorescent lights because I am not there with him. This was our thing, my dad’s and mine. Our trips to the bank would be followed by an unending search for the most satisfying merienda around Marikina. But that day was another testimony to the finality and reality of his passing. We were at the bank to straighten out his affairs. To pick up land titles and insurance certificates and other documents whose names are to be transferred to us, those he had left behind.
Having experienced no other life-changing loss and realizing how attached I am to this man so notorious for his moodiness makes life ahead unimaginably lonely. I no longer wait for him to come home late from work to help me do my work problems in math. I no longer need him to carry me on his back to the deepest end that he can reach when we go to the beach. I no longer need him to pick me up from friends’ houses. No, I don’t need him for these things anymore. I need him for so much more. I need him to be in my life. But the memories will have to do.
Although we mourn, our loss was testament to the love we are so blessed with. My dad hated eulogies, he wouldn’t have wanted one. I don’t think he needs one either. At the nadir of our lives, the outpouring of love from family and friends that I was witness to is enough to eulogize my dad whose spirit was much, much stronger than his body.
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