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| Photo by Jamila Alyssa Estanislao |
Hey Dad,
It's been a while, huh? Tomorrow, Mom and I will visit you at your columbarium and I have collected many stories to tell you. Those stories will probably be accompanied by tears, which is not a new sight to see. It's been around a year since I last visited, I am so much different now but I am still met with the same cold marble I’ve known for so many years. It is frustrating that our lives keep on changing while yours stopped a long time ago and I cannot even do anything about it.
There is so much you’ve missed out on, Dad. I graduated high school. I got into a good university studying the course I love. I am now a writer in the publication of my college course. I’m pretty much an adult now, entering my twenties this year. Aside from that, there are also big changes in our lives, Papa and Ninang passed away. We moved to Lola’s house. Oh, Mom and I are taking care of Lola now.
Speaking of Mom, we are doing okay. We eventually learned to grow around the grief. The business that you built with her is doing well. It was a bit rocky but it continues to provide me with my needs and a good education. It also has been so hard for her but she fiercely stood in your place to give me the life I deserve and for that, I am extremely grateful.
I often think about what life would be like if you are still here. Will our lives be different or better? Maybe a bit easier? Would you stay at your old job or apply for a new one? Would we stay in our apartment or buy our own house? What will your advice be like? What kind of parent would you be like? What would our arguments sound like? But most importantly, will you curse the boy who broke my heart while I cry on your shoulder? I have so many questions, and Dad I don’t even have an answer to any of them.
Six years is not enough. You said you’ll always be with me and I know it is wrong for me to question why your time was quick to end but it is unfair that 14 years later, I am still grieving for the version of you I will never meet nor experience.
Grief is a peculiar thing, even after so many years have passed, life will always find a way to reopen, smack, hit, and stab the place where it hurts the most. Grief is a wound that never heals and never becomes a scar. There are no words to describe the pain and grief after the flowers died, the candles blew out, and the funeral was held. Coming to terms with a life without you and all the regrets and anger that keep me up at night. The tears each memory brings but also the love persevering.
I like to keep in mind what the priest told us about how grief is love persevering, not just ours but also your love for us, Dad. Despite the pain, grief also reminds me of how big your heart was and how much love and kindness you held for everyone around you. A kind of love that continues to believe in me even though you are no longer here. A kind of love that keeps me and Mom going.
20 years ago, you wrote me a letter asking me “are you happy?” I still don’t have an answer to that, but I hope when the time comes that I see you again, I can answer you with a 'yes.' It's that time of the year again to commemorate the dead, but I remember you every day through snippets of stories about you told from many points of view, through the memories of us I fight to remember, and through the bond of a father and a daughter that cannot and never will be replaced.
