DAY 6 - HAPPY

Looking at the picture, you're probably asking, who is she kidding? Happy?!? The picture has TIPSY written all over it.  So let me explain.

DAY 5 - HEALTHY was a very tough write for me.  As I was penning the last few sentences of the post, I started to cry. First with silent tears, then sobs, then I started to call on my Dad.  And when my husband Richard walked into the room, he gently asked me to just cry it out while he sat quietly beside me.

When the ugly part of my cry was over, I asked if we could go out tonight, only then realizing that we hadn't had a date night since Dad passed 3 days after our 26th wedding anniversary.

So date night we did, and in between our bottomless Mojitos, our conversation started about our kids (come to think of it, all of our conversations start about our kids), the business, our family, until...

Me: do you still miss Papa? (He's been gone almost 14 years)

Richard: Yes, of course.  The memory of him in the ER, of them poking his eye to confirm that he was gone, then me having to tell Mama.  It's still so vivid in my mind like it happened yesterday.

Me: Really? Up to now?

Richard: Yes, and what hurts is that, minutes before he passed, when he said "take care of your Mama", my last words to him were "Pa, huwag ka magsalita ng ganyan, lumaban ka." And he just looked at me. And that was it.

Me: (crying)

Richard: And I did the same thing with Dad. When you left me in the ICU with him, he said, "hirap na hirap na ako, hijo, ayoko na." And again I answered, "Dad, sa birthday ni Mom sa March 10, dapat magaling ka na". And he gave me that same look that Papa did in the ER.

Me: What look?

Richard: That they can see the light, and it's leading them to a better place than where they are now.  And that’s why they didn’t want to stay.  

Me: Does it still hurt when you remember Papa?

Richard: Not anymore.  Papa is now my guardian angel.  He used to always get me out of a bind when I was growing up.  I still see him that way and call him when I need someone to pray for me.  And now it helps knowing that he and Dad are together, and I can call on both of them.

Dad and Papa shared many things Ilokano - the dialect, the food, the humor, the politics.  The vision of their reunion warms my heart.

And about both of them seeing the light, just before Dad was intubated, he told me and my sister-in-law Mel that "something awaits".  I now know with conviction that Dad was speaking of the glory of heaven, brighter than the sun, beckoning and inviting him to say goodbye to mortality and to embrace forever.

And tonight, my journey back to happy just scored its first smile.