experiencing grief
Today is August 4, exactly one month since I was hit by the devastating news about the passing of my father. For a long time I have been contemplating whether I should write about it or not. On one hand, I feel like I should do it to keep the real purpose of my journal—to record all the events in my life whether good or bad. But on the other hand, I'm not sure if this is something that I would want to look back on in the future.
Until now, I'm having a hard time putting it into words because I'm afraid that writing about it makes it real.
It was just like any other day. I woke up, ate breakfast, then went to work like usual. My morning was ordinary. When it was time for lunch break, I ate my packed lunch at the cafeteria with my colleagues. I remember distinctly the smell of Pork Afritada as I heated it on the microwave. I just finished eating my lunch when I received a call from Noah. He told me to go to the bathroom where I can be alone. Back then, I had no idea that he was going to talk to me about something serious. I just thought he was going to ask me a favor about school. So when he told me the news, I was completely shocked. I didn' t expect it at all. I was more shocked than sad. I was having a hard time wrapping my head around what he just said. I immediately went home after that. I didn't even care if the other passengers at the jeepney saw me crying nonstop.
I was on autopilot for the following days. I can't believe that the day had come where I'll have to set up the table for the wake of my father. A month ago, he was just here sitting in the living room. Every time I come out, I would see him sitting there watching something on Youtube or Netflix.
I remember during my last phone call with my father while he was at the hospital, he still managed to tell me "mag-iingat ka palagi" even though he was already severely ill. It breaks my heart knowing that it was our last conversation together, though I didn't know it back then.
I've been battling with grief for the past few weeks—grief that comes in different forms. It hits me even when I'm doing the most mundane task. While washing the dishes, the thought of my father being gone suddenly enters my mind without warning. When I open the Netflix app, I see his profile on the home screen and it breaks my heart knowing that it will never be used again. Every time I eat good food, I think about him and how much he loves trying all kinds of different food; how I wish he was still here so I can share this delightful meal with him. I think about him every time someone mentions the word "father" on a TV show I was watching. I think about how much he loves watching horror movies and listening to old music on the radio. Whenever I come across his favorite fast food joint Hen Lin at the mall, I feel like I would break down right then and there. He loved their siopao so much, that's why I make sure to buy him one if I have extra money. He's the world's #1 siopao and pancit canton lover. Every time I see a delicious-looking pancit canton, I think to myself, "Mukhang magugustuhan 'to ni daddy". Every time I experience a joyful occasion, I always grieve over the fact that he will never be here to witness it. I'm just grateful that I was able to be with him during my graduation day. He was so proud at me and he looked so happy as he walked up the stage and shook hands with the school officials.
Despite everything, I'm grateful that I have a strong support system that continuously gives me comfort and encouragement throughout this grieving process. During my father's wake, all my friends from high school and college came to visit. It was such a relief seeing them during that difficult time. Some of them even came straight from work and my best friend literally traveled all the way from Pampanga. Even after a few days have passed, they continued to check up on me and send me comforting messages.
Losing a loved one, especially a parent, is something that no one could ever prepare for. But I have no choice but to stay strong and keep on living.
Every time I needed strength to overcome this immense grief, I think about the short story called "The Boy Who Fed On Nightmares". In the story, the boy asked the witch to remove all his bad memories in hopes of achieving happiness. However, the boy remained unhappy despite everything. When he asked the witch about it, the witch answered:
"Hurtful, painful memories, memories of deep regrets, memories of hurting others and being hurt, memories of being abandoned, only those with such memories buried in their hearts can become stronger, more passionate, and emotionally flexible… and only those can attain happiness. So don't forget any of it, remember it all and overcome it. If you don't overcome it, you'll always be a kid whose soul never grows."
That is what I am going to do. I will not forget any of it. I will remember this grief and pain, and then overcome it. I will not run from it no matter how painful because I know that it will make me stronger. As the saying goes, "The only way out is through".