Before my dad’s death, the idea of losing someone I love felt so foreign: the last time was that of my beloved Nanay Marta, who died 15 years ago at age 70, and even the pain from that is something I don’t remember that well anymore. I wish someone knew the right way to do all this without feeling so lost, so broken.
I don’t even know exactly what he thought of me. He wasn’t exactly crazy over my involvement in student activism when I was in U.P., although he bragged to his friends that I went to the nation’s premier university. He often expressed his objection with my decision to be a journalist in a country where media practitioners are overworked and underpaid and in constant danger for simply doing their jobs.
And yet I look at the life my dad lived — how his earlier years were marred by poverty and family misfortune, how he hustled to spark a remarkable turnaround, and the way he rose up when he eventually started a family of his own — and all I can think about is how there is only one place that my dad deserves to be. I never really believed in heaven, but now I need to. I want to think that he is in a place where there is no more pain, only the best things he could probably ask for.
My Life💔…Still mourning for the lost of our parents. They say pain goes away as time goes by, NO you just learned to live with it.
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