A Letter for Papa
Dear Papa,
I already knew that I am going to write this for you. It seems the “burden” of giving eulogies are tasked to be delivered by the youngest progeny. But Pa, this is one burden that I will be honored to provide, the opportunity to boast of you as my world’s greatest father.
I started to write about you in my little journal June 2nd, two days after your ERCP procedure. I was getting worried because you still had not recovered fully, still feeling the effects of the method that supposedly should treat you. In this journal, I prayed for your quick healing and for you to get back on your self again.
Fast forward to June 4th, the day you were rushed to the hospital due to chest pains. In this journal entry, I wrote:
“Its been a very tiring day, but we are still fighting. And I believe that the Lord will heal Papa. I’m not used to him not being home, not hearing him walk down the stairs in the morning. But I know he will get through this. I hope that both Ate and Papa can rest well tonight. It will not be easy in the coming days, but we will all fight this, and we will all get through this.”
June 5th, you were moved from the semi-private ward to the ICU. Mama stayed behind to keep you company.
June 6th was the last day you were conscious. During the morning visitation hours, you were able to talk to Lola thru video call. I remember her telling you:
“Magpagaling ka. Pag magaling ka na, punta tayo sa Cavite.”
And being a good son you are, you told her “Opo.” That was the first time I heard you say that to Lola.
June 6th to 7th was, I can say, the most nerve-racking days for us. Unstable vital stats, multiple codes and arrests, looking for available blood units for your transfusions. These two days put us in our most challenging situation since we rushed you to the hospital. Honestly, I wanted you to fight it. I wanted you to overcome it. But I keep hearing such devastating updates of you medically, that I know it will be selfish of me to insist that you keep fighting.
Those two nights that we went home to rest, but I felt the most restless. I would wake up in the middle of the night, look at the time, and wonder how you are. And every single time, I uttered a short prayer to the Lord for you to come home.
But come June 8th, hearing the updates from your doctors, we already knew that was not going to happen. June 8th was the longest wait I had to endure, the wait for you to take your last breath. That day, you did go home, not to our home, but to the home of our Lord.
You’ve lived a wonderful life, Pa, and I can attest to that. I never got tired of listening to your stories:
· All the places you have been on
· All the friends you have made
· Your love for music, Formula One, vintage cars
· And all the life lessons you gave me
I can say your life with us is short-lived, but we could have used a few more years with you, to travel to places we have never been.
But Pa, I can tell that living this life without you will be a difficult one. I wanted the chance for you to see me get married someday. But even now, I know that you see I am already in good hands. You would not have told Tita Nene you were ready to move on if you were not confident that we will all be.
I will end this letter with the words I told you before I accepted letting you go:
“I am proud of you. You did a good job. Magpahinga ka na. Magiging ok kami.”
There are not enough words to tell you how much I love you and how much I am grateful for being given the chance to be your daughter. You will forever be the first man I love and loved in this lifetime. Thank you. Just, thank you:
· For being the greatest father to Ate and me
· For being a delightful and caring grandfather to Yuna and Zoe
· For being a thoughtful and kind second father to Kuya Chico and CJ
· And for spending your life to the fullest, to having adventures and memorable experiences, to loving our one and only Mama, until the end.
No more pain, Pa. You can rest now.
No goodbyes. We will see each other again, in another lifetime.
I love you Pa.
Your bunso,
May