It was my dad's funeral yesterday. I wasn't there to see him laid to rest.
But I am there in spirit.
My father died peacefully on Wednesday morning - Philippine time. When I received the news I didn't feel sad but was rather relieved that finally his sufferings is over. I just prayed that the Lord will give him safe passage to heaven.
Having been diagnosed with inoperable colon cancer my father was immediately resigned to the fact that he was going to die. He opted not to go under the knife, no chemotherapy, no medicines, but rather chose to spend the little strength he has left with the family. At that point it was just a matter of taking care of himself.
Aside from my aunt Ellie and my uncle Butch my sister Nenet assume primary care responsibility for him during this painful time. They were nurturing, patience and pretty much give my dad whatever time he has left to be about what he wanted. Maybe these, and his desire to live to see how his children, his grandchildren and the rest of the family is faring day in and day out had allowed him to live for four years after the diagnosis.
But as the final weeks and days went by, the father has become the baby. My sister has to spoon fed him and has to bring him to the bathroom. Eventually, he lost his appetite for food, he became so frail and weak that it is painful to watch his strength slipping away. The truth is, it become more and more difficult to watch the struggle for life when we knew death would bring final release.
When he drew his last breath, I am certain he wasn't alone. My brother was there waiting with outstretch hand. They are once again reunited in death and that in itself is a gift.
My father was, and will always be, a hero in my eyes. He did not accomplish great deeds. His name will not be found in the history books.
He was just my Dad.
And I will miss him terribly.
