At 12:00am of January 22, I was sitting in the St.Luke's Chapel writing a letter.
Hours ago, we surrendered to papa’s heartbreaking plea – “If you love me, release me.” An unexplainable feeling of urgency made me sat down and write. I had always told papa I love him but this time I wanted him to know why and how much he really meant to me. And when I, being myself, have something really important to say, I write. And this was more than important. I wanted every word to be perfect, every memory to be vivid and every feeling I had not to be forgotten. And so I wrote.
1:45am my shoulders were tired from sobbing and my letter remained unfinished. I went back to our hospital room and sat beside papa hoping to get any ounce of energy back. His face distorted in pain even in his sleep made me cry more.
2:00am I went out of the room and tried finishing my letter. I couldn’t. All those memories overwhelmed me and left my mind in mid-air.
3:00am I decided to have a short sleep before I write again. I wanted to finish it and read it to papa first thing in the morning.
6:15am I woke up to mama’s wailing. Papa was having difficulty breathing and he was propped up by my uncles and auntie. I instantly stood up and took my turn in holding him. He was strangely heavy.
7:00am I started finalizing my letter. Every minute I look at him and every minute he breathes heavily and heavily. In my mind I was shouting for him to wait.
8:00am I finished my letter. And since it was 3 pages long, I wanted him to be comfortable enough to hear every single word. I waited for the nursing aid to change the sheets, I waited for kuya Lyle to finish his call, I waited for kuya Leo to be at my side, I waited for mama to sit down, I waited for papa to get back to the bed and lie down. I waited for the right time but it never came. I guess I waited too long. I didn’t know in a few minutes he would die. Even as I folded the paper in my hand, I was in high hopes that he would live.
8:30am he was gently laid back in bed. Then the oxygen alarm went out. Chaos. Nurses. Doctors. Machines. Everybody started to say their goodbyes and I sat there paralyzed and pleading to God for just another 5 minutes or less for me to read my letter. When the numbers started to go down and down and down, I knew we were losing him. I clutched the paper and hugged papa tight and whispered in his ears the words I long to tell him more about. With tears streaming down my face, I told him over and over that I love him, hoping that those words were enough to let him know the content of my unread letter to him.
At 8:40am God took papa home.
MY UNREAD LETTER TO MY FATHER
(Read during my papa’s burial)
Dear papa,
As I watch you lying in that hospital bed gasping for air, I had so many things I wanted to tell you.
Remember one time when you called me at your side? You were silent for a while as you stared at the poster I made for you. Then you spoke and asked me, “Violet, how can I be strong and courageous at times like this when the pain is too much?” I didn’t know what to say. At that time I didn’t have any answer. We both kept silent for we both didn’t know. Then we bowed our heads in fervent prayer.
What do I do when the lips that told me 17 years ago that I needed Jesus in my heart is now dry and parched and hard to speak… When the arms that once cradled me with love when I was a not-so-pleasant-looking baby are now bruised, weak and shaky…
When the eyes that closed with me as I learned how to pray are now struggling to open and focus on my face… When the ears that once listened to my DVBS stories are now straining to hear every word I say…
When the hands that tightly held my little hands as we crossed the streets at night to buy our favorite balot are now being poked and prodded by countless needles… When the fingers that once taught me how to type without looking at the typewriter are now trembling uncontrollably…
When the shoulders I once sat on as we trekked down the trail to lola’s house is now unable to stand straight…When the legs that hiked down to tufuy with me, mama, kuya Lyle, kuya Leo, Joy and Beth is now lying helpless and swollen… When the feet that once tried to teach me how to sadsad and dance the halep is now unable to carry you around.
What do you do when the man of strength you looked up to is now crying and writhing in pain? What I do is I love him more. Pa, I learned to love you more for fighting to live for us this long. For almost a year you endured the pain thinking of us. And now I know the answer to your question. In that, you had proven to be strong and courageous. And now that you fought long enough and you want to go home – home where there is no pain – I am letting go.
I will always remember you, papa. You had always been my number one fan in school. Remember in my elementary days, how you would promise me gifts at the end of each year if I top the honor list? I got my green BMX bike which I loved so much. I also got my brand new camera. You were always true to your promises.
I will always cherish our FTM and Tasterite moments after my Recognition Days. As we sat together and smiled at the camera – me with my medals and you with your big smile – those were once my happiest days, knowing that in my own little way, I made my papa proud of me.
I know I am bad at household chores and you never failed to remind me about that. And because of that I learned to take my studies seriously. In high school, every accomplishment I made, I dedicated it to you and mama – every medal, every trophy, every plaque and every award I got, I would think of you knowing that even if you weren’t there to receive It with me, you silently cheered for me.
That’s why when I got my GMA leadership award on graduation day, I waited for you. They called my name twice but I couldn’t see you. The principal wanted to hang it herself around my neck but I gazed around looking for you. And when I saw you running up to me with that huge smile on your face, I was glad I waited. I knew I wouldn’t have gotten that award without you. You will always be my example of a great leader.
In getting out of FEBIAS I knew I broke your heart. It was the hardest decision for me that time - to pursue what I want or to break my father’s heart. It was the first time you cried in front of me and pleaded for me to obey. But I remained headstrong. Pa, I am so sorry for hurting you so much that time. I will always feel miserable remembering those days when you cried as I shut you out of my world. Pa, from the deepest part of my heart, I am so sorry.
Yet you didn’t turn your back on me. It’s been 5 years of college and you’re still hopeful I will finish what we started – what God started in me. Pa, I will graduate for you. One day I will walk up the stage, get my diploma and wait for you to come up with me. And like what we do since I was a child, we will pose for the camera and smile our bright smiles. But if that day comes and you will not be there, then I will smile wider and brighter, one for you and one for me. I will smile big for the both of us.
Pa, I had always dreamed of a perfect wedding. Ever since I was a child you taught me the value of waiting. Even right now, I can hear you telling me, “the best gift you can give to your husband, is your virginity.” Before, Joy and I would always squirm whenever you called us together and start with those words. But now I know that without your constant reminder, I wouldn’t have hold on to my purity.
I always prayed that the man I marry would be a man of great patience and humility – a man who fears God and who would remain faithful to Him and to his family, a man who is willing to work hard in the mission field, who will hike every mountain with joy and without complaints, a man who wouldn’t value money, degree or fame but who will value a single soul that comes to know the Lord. I always prayed that God would give me a man just like you, pa.
It would be the happiest day of my life as I see you walk me down the aisle to the man who would next take the responsibility of taking care of me after you did since I was born. But if that day comes and you aren’t there beside me to hold my hand, I will still walk that aisle with joy and grace knowing that papa had helped to prepare me to be worthy of this man God has given me.
I had also dreamed of you around my children, you teaching them how to pray, you giving them shampoo bottles filled with coins for Christmas day, you riding them in your old rusty motorbike, you teaching them how to drive and overtake successfully, you telling them to always be a defensive driver, you spanking them with your painful brown belt and praying with them afterwards, you telling them the proper way of holding a camera, you reminding them to wash their own clothes, you teaching them how to chew chicken bones until nothing is left for the dogs, you teaching them how to eat balot, you walking up and down Balangao and telling them about your own Achurawen River and you answering all their questions about the Bible. But if that day comes and you aren’t there, then I will tell them the story of the good man there lolo was. And like me, as I hear stories of lolo Canao, I know they would sit in awe and plead to tell your story over and over again.
Pa, I thank you for sharing Christ in my life but most especially I thank you for living Christ in your life. You had inspired me to be a faithful missionary someday – someone who will love Jesus until the end. And now, as this may be my last letter to you, I cry with all the tears I can.
If I could just have one more hike with you or one more talk with you or one more laugh at your jokes or one more tight hug from you… If I could only have one more lifetime with you, babawi ako (I’ll make up to you), papa. But you are flying today and I will be left behind. And now, I thank you – thank you for being my papa. In my heart I will always be my papa’s girl.
Did you know that my first ever writing contest was in 6th grade and I won 1st place in that? I wrote a feature article about the most influential person in my life and it was all about you. I had always asked God to write you and me a beautiful story. I always thought you would be there until I graduate, get married and go to missions. But if God wants to end our chapter here, then pa, I would like you to know with all my heart that you are the most beautiful story of my life. I love you so much, papa.
Laylayche’ hea.
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