It’s been over a month since my father died. Everything is still a bit surreal. On the surface, life goes on, but the feeling of loss comes in waves. For the last few years, I had lived across the country from my parents, and although I spoke to them often on the phone, I got used to seeing them only a few times a year. That’s what it feels like sometimes: that my dad is just somewhere else, at his house, on a trip, in the hospital, or wherever. More and more, however, the truth is sinking in.
One of the last things my dad said to me in the hospital was, “Do you think you and mom can manage?” Without him, that is. We both smiled a little, as if it were some kind of joke.
“Of course,” I said. And that’s what I have to remember now and then. Yes, he is gone, but I can draw inspiration from him to keep moving forward. Over the years I learned that his outlook on life was not to dwell in the past, but to think, what do I need to do today?
In Filipino culture (as well as some others, I have learned), there is a tradition of holding a special prayer on the fortieth day after a person’s death. In my dad’s case, that would be today, but for practical purposes my mom and I had the gathering this past Sunday, and about sixty-five people came. It was at a local restaurant, where we held Mass (one of my mom’s friends had brought a priest) followed by brunch. The various funeral events have brought so many people together. On the evening before the burial a few weeks ago, there was a prayer service for my dad at the funeral home, and dozens and dozens of people showed up, mostly relatives and friends we hadn’t seen in months or years. After the prayer was over, the otherwise somber mood broke into a loud and lively din as everyone chatted and caught up with each other. It was overwhelming but heartening to see so many people there.
I’m so thankful for all the support around me: lots of friends and family, and my wonderful partner, Thom; and I should also mention the readers of this site, some of whom I have met in person and others I haven’t met (yet), but many I have gotten to know through the power of the Internet. Or rather, the Internet is merely the means; the power is of course in our own ability to touch each others’ lives. Thank you.
(The photo above is of Dad at home with the Christmas tree in Nov. 2004.)
3 replies on “One day at a time”
What a nice post about your father. It sounds like you were very close to him and that you have some nice memories to hold close to your heart! That is a very nice Christmas picture of him.
I love that picture of your dad! I’m sorry I missed the fortieth day commemoration, but I’m *really* glad that it went well. Love and lots of hugs to your mom, and of course to you and Thom!
Rajani 🙂
There’s nothing wrong with the feeling that he’s just in another place. My Dad’s father died on a trip out west. My Dad, a very realistic person who certainly grasped the real truth, would sometimes comment that my grandfather is still out on his trip. It’s a fine way to remember things.
And you certainly said the right thing when he asked if you and your mom could manage. Intellectually, he knew you could, but he spent his life worrying about his family, so he wanted reassurance that you’d manage without him. You gave that to him, and that helped!
About those friends and family members: lean on them. That’s what they’re there for. *hug*