It’s been eight months since my Dad died.
I checked
my newsfeed in FB yesterday and I saw the immense outpouring of HFD greetings. I just couldn’t help feeling so isolated. When
I saw the photo of my Dad on my sister’s timeline, I couldn’t even comment or click
“like”. I said to myself that it’s just one day and it’s going to be okay. What
troubles or bothers me today, won’t really matter tomorrow, the day after, a
year later or ten years from now. Sigh …
deep breaths again.
Since I wasn’t able to visit my Dad in June last year or when he had
a heart attack in August, nor was I able to be with him during his
last few days and I even missed his wake because I forgot my old passport
which had my US visa, thereby, missed my flight, I promised myself that I wouldn’t be flying
anywhere. For how long? I really do not know.
Time heals all wounds, as they say. Oh yeah, maybe it does but this type of wound
leaves a scar that keeps on reminding me of the hurt and the loss.
It’s my Nanay’s 15th death anniversary at the
end of this month and I still remember vividly the day she died.
"Death leaves a
gaping hole in my heart which seems to never heal."
--- betsisanders, June 22, 2015
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