MY DADDY’S GIFT

Some people talk about “pivotal points” in their lives that cause them to change. I had mine when my Daddy died. He left suddenly and quietly, and yet, it made such an impact on me that I gave a really thorough look on life, both this one, and the next, urgently.

The story is simple, actually. My family (hubby, daughter and I) had been living in placid semi-solitude in a subdivision not too far from my parents’. Everyday, while my husband and I worked, my parents would take care of our daughter. The set-up was ideal.  My child gets the best care possible, I get to see my parents everyday.  

Losing my Dad

On January 7, 2008, as my parents were en route to our house, my Daddy felt pains in his chest. A young couple saw them in anguish, and brought Dad to the hospital. Still, two and a half hours later, just like that, my Daddy left this world forever.

My Mom had been married to my Dad for 38 years; they were inseparable companions and best friends. I have always harbored a fear that if this moment came, she wouldn’t be able to bear the anguish. But by God’s pure grace she did, largely through the bayanihan and damayan that ensued.

Amazing Generosities

As word of Daddy’s death went around, our neighbors, my in-laws, and friends from the community came to the hospital in troops. The Parish Priest then who was on his way to another town turned his car around so he could give Dad his last anointing.

As an only child, I was left in charge of my Dad’s embalming, and arrangements for his wake and funeral services. These were new to me, and I had no idea it could become quite complicated. Thus, on top of my grief over Dad’s passing, worries over my Mom, financial constraints and related concerns, I had to make immediate decisions which proved taxing. Thank God I had solid support from my husband, relatives, cousins and friends who helped me make decisions.

Tough job, but my mother-in-law, neighbors and friends from the Church Community comforted my Mom and took charge of things my small family could not have done ourselves. They took the initiative of preparing our house for the wake, provided extra chairs, water dispenser, tents, and heaven knows what else.

Other relatives also arrived bringing emotional, financial and even practical support (I would not have thought of buying food, juices, coffee, fruits, and even paper plates, plastic spoons, forks and cups for condolers). My aunt cooked for visitors, and some family friends voluntarily brought cauldrons of food every night. My husband and cousins served the visitors. All  my Mom and I had to do was stay by my Daddy’s side and talk to condoling visitors.

           

My in-laws, neighbors, and relatives would stay up until all the visitors have left, which would be around 3 A.M., to help pick up the trash and tidy up. Widows gave their last money. Neighbors I didn’t know shook my hand and patted me.  People, who, I found out were from depressed areas, those whom my Dad gave the Bible Service and Communion to and laid his gifted hands on, smiled at me with shy, comforting eyes. My Daddy’s former officemates, my own, and my Mommy’s long-time friends traveled far to share our grief and tears.

And the spiritual support, all voluntary: during dawn, Carmelite Brothers would say their Vespers in front of my Daddy. Our Parish Priest came early mornings to say the Mass. By mid-day, some friend-priests would come to give their blessings. At night, Holy Masses would have two or three con-celebrants presiding on them. And every group in the Community each held a prayer worship lifting my Daddy, and us, to the mercies of God.

On the last night of the wake, my Mom’s blood pressure shot up and she had to be hospitalized. While we were in the hospital, our house was jampacked as a Holy Mass, necrological service, and prayer worships were held.

The Last Day

Unlike the previous days when the sun glowed fiercely, gentle rains unveiled that particular morning. A beloved friend led us in farewell prayers before the funeral procession. It was a sad day -- very wet, very gray. Still, the church was full.

Again, by God‘s grace, Mommy was allowed by her doctor to attend the interment. Though physically weak, her spirit remained strong. She thanked God for His goodness to our family, for in life and in death, my Dad, and we, his family, were so richly blessed.

In the cemetery, the rains stopped as the heavens gave way to the burial ceremonies. Amid quiet sobs, we sent balloons skyward with the words, “Happy Homecoming, Daddy!” And with that, we let him go.

A Gift of Lessons

I miss my Dad, and I will miss him forever. His death took away a love, a presence, a comfort that can never be replaced. But through the loss, my heart began to pulse with a deeper understanding.

God’s best gift to me is the people around me – the family I have been born to, our relatives, my husband, child, in-laws, friends, neighbors and communities. Through them, I rediscovered the healing power of love.  With their kindness, my grief was tempered, my gratitude overwhelmed. And as I received, I knew, that at another time, I must give.

I learned that it is not too frightening to die if you lived your life right. God granted my Daddy’s  wish -- that he die a fast, quiet death. And I got mine -- that I should be present when one of my parents died so that I could be there for the one who’s being left behind.

I fully appreciated the old cliché that life is short, and that I must start really living if I wanted my life to make even a small dent in this world.

Oh, and the pride I hold for Daddy! Not to brag, but the love we received were not entirely free. While alive, my Daddy, with my Mommy, invested well by sharing our God, their time, and meager resources to those who needed them, and that’s how love came back.

I thank my Dad whose life and death had been a well of lessons for me. Now I understand better. I must sometimes forget myself, get out there, lose some sleep, deprive myself of some pleasures, experience the unpleasant sides of this world, and love, love, and love in order to get the best value of life. Not easy to carry out, but not undoable. Daddy tried to live by these, and no matter if done imperfectly, death lost its sting.