Confessions

I am not really good at math. As a matter of fact, I suck at it! But, I am very certain that it has exactly been 14 days, 336 hours, and 20160 minutes since my dad passed away - these moments have crossed infront of me, but today still feels like day 1.

The first few days were spent crying both with few special friends, and alone. I am not the type of a person who can easily share my problems with other people. Moreover, as much as possible, I do not allow myself to be seen in public crying, or even just sad; for these are very intimate and private moments of me and I prefer not giving everybody the consent to see them.

No matter how much I want to just stay idle, stare at blank spaces, and curl myself in one corner of my bed, I still struggle to at least regain the smile and the infectious laugh that my closest friends have always known me about.

Tita Carol Teves, mom of a girlfriend, said that when somebody you extremely love passes away, it is when you would feel and understand the real meaning of being heartbroken. And when somene says he/she is heartbroken coz of a break-up is NOTHING, compared to when your heart really gets broken.

Tita Carol's dad passed away ten years ago, and still, the pain and the lonliness is still fresh. To Tita Carol, that 10 years still seems like day 1 to her.

It has been harder for me talking about daddy these days compared to the first few days. Right now, I prefer talking straight to daddy in any way possible, which can pretty much get desperate sometimes.

The man that I am truly inlove with just passed away, and I am left with no choice but to stay in school and finish the remaining two months of the semester. Everyday, I have to fight the thoughts in my mind, and when i felt that I wasn't equipt enough with the optimism capabilities, I resorted to every means I think would be helpful, not even caring whether it is possible or not.

Somehow, it seems like I have very much practiced myself for an automatic mental block. When I start to think about daddy, I just shake my head or close my eyes and count 1 to 3 and before I knew it, I am already thinking about something else. Honestly, I do not know what exactly should I call this: Mental block? Compartmentalizing? Selective Amnesia? I really don't care for now.

Right now, my heart aches so bad that I feel a cardiac arrest would be coming any moment soon. And thinking about cardiac arrests, I question myself right away: "If I die today, would it be daddy that I would see first?" I wish.

I know its unhealthy and wrong, but all my emotions feel so supressed. I chose not to cry until I'm with mommy and kuya niño, not until october 13. I am very much overwhelmed with the love and support that my friends here in Dumaguete are giving me, but I just feel the safest to breakdown in our house, in my own little room, with my family.

Just yesterday, I went to National Bookstore and bought all these materials needed to make a scrapbook. I am not just so sure if this is a smart idea or not, but my scrapbook will be the only tangible way for me to communicate with my father.

People may see me smiling, laughing, wearing colorful shirts; and they might misjudge that as a lack of grief, but what people thinks is seriously not in my list right now. I know that no matter how much happy I may seem to be, my real friends, my family, and most especially my daddy knows that I am heartbroken.

i love you daddy

I was around seven years old then when I interrupted my dad in a meeting just to ask him for ten pesos. He told me to ask mom instead, but still, I insisted and I guessed dad finally ran out of patience that he shouted at me and reprimanded me to go inside the house. I ended up crying my heart out and feeling bad for not getting what I wanted.

I am now twenty-one years old, and I cannot remember any other instance where daddy raised a voice at me, I cannot remember any other instance where daddy didn’t give me the things he knew he could give, and most of all, I cannot remember any other instance where dad got extremely mad at me.

To me, daddy was everything. He was my provider, my hero, my savior, my friend, and most especially, daddy was my ideal man. I always believed that daddy was the strongest, and it wasn’t until he confessed he had cancer that I realized that daddy too was mortal.

For more than a year, daddy fought the cancer. He called me one night to tell me that the pain was just becoming too much to bear already, and that it’s about time for him to go to the hospital. It was the first time I heard my daddy’s voice sounded so weak, it was the first time I ever heard my dad complain about something, and the most frightening was, it was the first time that daddy didn’t assure me that everything was going to be fine.

I made him promise to be strong, and he said that he’d try and that everything has its end. I didn’t take “I’ll try” for an answer, until finally, I convinced him to say “yes anak.”

Daddy never lied to me. He said “I’ll try,” because he was just being honest. Daddy loves me so much, that he unwillingly lied to me by saying “Yes,” and thinking about it right now, I regret for making him do that.

Daddy was strong, but I knew how much he hated hospitals. I knew how much shivers it gave him every time a needle pinches his body. But, despite all the pains that he went through, it was still me, my mother, and my three other siblings whom he constantly thought about.

The last time I called him, dad was sleeping and all I could hear was snoring, and I believe it was his way of telling me that it was time for him to rest.

Not being with my dad for almost nine years was a struggle, but it was something that I have constantly prepared and planned for. However, not seeing him forever was never a part of it.

To all those people whom daddy treated as family there in the states, thank you. No amount of gratitude will suffice how overwhelmingly thankful our family is to all of you. I know daddy will be my angel, will be our angel.

Daddy, I love you. We love you. I may not understand it now, but I am hanging on to my Faith that tells me that all these have its reasons. I admire you for building a very strong family. A family filled with unconditional love. I am sorry dad for everything, you know how much in love I am with you.

You may be gone physically, but everything you taught me will stay. With this extreme feeling of loss is a promise that I will someday make you proud. I know you are in good hands now. Rest well my daddy, and forever you will be my hero.

To daddy, here's my song for you:

Every little thing

by: Dishwalla

Let me in
to see you in the morning light
to get me on and all along the tears they come
see all come
I want you to believe in life
but I get the strangest feeling that you've gone away
will you find out who you are too late to change?
I wish I could be
every little thing you wanted
all the time
I wish I could be
every little thing you wanted
all the time
some times

lift me up
just lift me up don't make a sound
and let me hold you up before you hit the Ground
see all come
you say your all right
but I get the strangest feeling
that you've gone away- you've gone away
and will you find out who you are too late to change?

I wish I could be
every little thing you wanted
all the time
I wish I could be
every little thing you wanted
all the time
some times

Don't give me up
don't give me up tonight
or soon nothing will be right at all
salvation
will you find out who you are too late to change?

I wish I could be
every little thing you wanted