Tatay...

Today marked the second year anniversary of my father’s death. I supposed I’ve spent a lot of energy thinking what this day would feel like… an entire year without my father: best friend and mentor. I’ve talked with a couple of friends about it as well as my brother. We all came up with the same adjective…

Weird…

It feels weird. Not like a year, longer than a year, as if it were yesterday, as if it had been forever ago… but when you get right down to it… it feels weird.

Now, it didn’t take Freud or Jung to convince me there are no accidents in life… that many times the things we do "accidentally" are but bubbles bursting forth from our unconscious and rising to the surface, signaling our unresolved issues…

Aaminin ko, di pa ako nakakarecover. Damang dama ko pa ang sakit ng pagkawala ni Tatay hanggang ngayon. Magaling lang akong magtago ng emosyon… The picture is still fresh in my mind. Ang pagmamadali kong makauwi sa Iloilo pagkatapos tumawag ang kapatid ko na sinugod si Tatay sa hospital sa Guimaras. I so wanted to connect with my father whose eyes always lit up everytime he sees me, but he seemed far away sleeping in his hospital bed. I feared that I was already too late. And indeed I was late.

That evening of October 27, 2006 the head nurse told me that Tatay’s breathing changed - a sign of death’s approach. That’s when it finally hit. I knew in my gut it would not be long. It was happening all too fast. I had hardly gotten my feet on the ground in Guimaras Island and I was still assuming there would be at least another day with Tatay. Thoughts raced through my mind: I’m not ready yet. I should have been here earlier when Tatay was more alert. I want more time with him.

Nine thirty in the evening, the doctor told us, "I’m so sorry to tell you, your father has died." A pause as I took it in. "He slipped away quietly, so quickly three hours after I arrived from Boracay. It dawned on me then why Tatay really wanted me to bring his barong tagalong that he is going to wear on my wedding. He wanted to wear it early. He cut it close! From the hospital window, I looked out at the night sky and the vacant streets of San Miguel, Jordan, Guimaras, which echoed my own emptiness. My father was gone.

From 10pm till about midnight, two peaceful hours unfolded. Everything was quiet. My father was on the bed, covered to his chest by the white hospital sheet and blanket. His eyes closed and his mouth open, his body looked the same but was no longer animated by the spirit of Life. Yet his spirit and the spirit of God he so firmly believed in seemed to fill the room. I sat on the chair beside his bed, feeling an immense, tangible peace. I let myself touch his upper body and felt surprising warmth in his chest. I felt I was entering with him into a ritual of transition slowly, slowly, moment by moment. I touched him again– still the warmth.

I closed the curtains as if to protect us from the outside glare. His room had been tidied, all traces of medical paraphernalia removed. On the left side of the bed, Nanay was sitting beside me silently crying and a soft spot light gently lit the room from the right. The space was clear and open, yet intimate. My father was gone…

Tatay, saan ka man naroroon, asahan mong hinding hindi ko pababayaan ang pamilyang iniwan mo sa akin. Sisikapin ko sa lubos ng aking makakaya na gampanan ang responsibilidad bilang panganay at ama ng tahanan para kay Nanay at sa aking dalawang kapatid. Tulad mo, kaya kong tiisin ang sakit, hirap at pagod alang alang sa pamilya natin.
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See you in the resurrection morning Tatay…