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.

DAY 5 - HEALTHY

Dad would be very happy today. Uhmmm, no. Dad would be very RELIEVED today.  Because after putting it off for 3 months, I finally took the time to have the medical check-up that I should have had last January.

I only have one kidney.  In 2010, it was imperative that I have my left one removed.  Dad felt a bizarre mixture of pride and guilt for passing on his recessive renal genes to me ("You get that from me, hija").  For the past 7 years, I have been on strict doctor's orders to do quarterly (and later on bi-annual) ultrasound and blood work.  Using the metaphor of a vehicle, I need regular tune-ups as I no longer have the luxury of a spare tire, and there is simply no room for me to mess up the one I have left.

TBH (o di ba, I'm so cool), I was really nervous about this morning.  Not only had I delayed it, I also subjected my body and mind to so much stress in between check-ups.

As soon as the laboratory's laser printer churned out my results, I read them right there and then (medyo mainit pa nga ang paper).  Woohoo, flying colors!  I walked to my urologist's clinic with a spring in my step, like a smart grade schooler turning in a test paper, knowing that I nailed it!

Healthy.  I need to do this because life is too fragile. I need to do this because I know how it is to watch a loved one suffer.  I need to do this because I do have Dad's recessive renal genes and remembering Dad's last days would be like looking into my future.  I need to do this because my well-being impacts so many lives, and it would be selfish to think otherwise.

Dad hated going to the doctor, so he didn't.  By the time he did, so many things were already irreversible.  And part of me blames his stubbornness for depriving me of a few more years with him.  For leaving me with unpleasant memories of him lying helpless in the ICU, unable to move because of the pain in his arms and legs, unable to breathe because of the pneumonia, unable to speak because of the mechanical ventilator.  And this vision of you is what grips my heart each time. It's what brings me to hysterical sobs because restoring you back to health is the one thing, THE ONE THING, that I couldn't do for you.  That I, your hatchet man, let you down.  And this, this is the crux of my grief.

Healthy, this is how I need to remember you, Dad.  That you are now in the pink of it.  And that when you pleaded with us to bring your home, this is what you actually meant.

DAY 4 - SWEET

It's been a long day. 

My bank transaction took much longer than I expected, which wasn't amusing given that I came in at 9am sharp precisely so this wouldn't happen.  My 10:30 am meeting arrived 30 minutes late, which wasn't funny either as it ate into the lunch break that I needed to cut short so I could prepare for my 2pm client call.  And when this client meeting was over, it wasn't really over, because I had to have an after-meeting with my staff to talk about how to solve the unsolvable from two o'clock. 

At 4 pm, I was ready to go home and put this day to rest, when the fairly new cake shop across the street caught my eye.

And there it was, my sweet respite from the day's sour after sour after sour.  

Me: Kuya, ano ang pinaka-bestseller niyo dito?

Kuya:

Me: (if Kuya can't pick one, then neither will I) May credit card ba kayo?

Kuya: Wala po Ma'am e.

Me: (scrounging for cash) Sige, Carrot Cake and Blue Cheese Fig Cheesecake (that was all my cash could afford at that moment).

I drove home with what I thought would be the sugary ending to a terrible Thursday.

But you know what, sweet didn't end there.  Sweet was my eldest daughter calling about her victories at work. Sweet was my younger daughter sending pictures of her academic award from school.  Sweet was my son's news about moving further along in his audition for a major speaking event. Sweet was the phone call to Mom, who told me that her medical check up went quite well, followed by text messages from her, reminding me that, even at my age of 50, she never stopped being my Mom.

Life can throw bitter pills. By far the hardest I had to swallow was losing my father.  But we make a choice every day to conquer the bitter with the sweet. And I end the day knowing that Daddy had to leave because he has finally deserved to be where pain is no more, joy is complete, love is perfect and life is eternal. In the sweet, sweet embrace of heaven.

DAY 3 - PRETTY 

Soon after Dad was diagnosed with chronic kidney failure, I found solace in a new obsession - hair and makeup. Not for others, but just for myself, hahaha!  

I would really like it when Daddy would take notice and say "you really look good today hija (ya, that's how he spells it, mestizo even in writing), masuwerte kayo ako ang pinakasalan ni Mom!!!"

Watching TV, I could no longer catch up with the dialogue as I became totally absorbed with how the female characters drew their eyebrows, coloured their eyelids, contoured their cheekbones, applied their blush, lined and painted their lips, and coiffed their hair.  Crazy obsessed.  

What used to take me 10 minutes to get ready for work, now consumes as much as 2 hours, especially if it's iron-my-hair day.  I had to be "put-together" every time I stepped out of home.  And it didn't matter if I was going to work, coffee with friends, window shopping, fastfood for lunch or Medical City to keep Dad company during his MWF dialysis sessions.   I wanted to be Daddy's sight for sore eyes there, in the hope that seeing his eldest daughter would distract him from the ugliness that was his dialysis, where he secretly knew that he was not really getting any better. 

Ironically, the night Daddy suffered his fatal heart attack, I rushed to the hospital with wet, unkempt hair, devoid of makeup. I was far from "put-together".  My face, my hair, my heart, were not ready to say goodbye to Daddy.

Prettify is something I still enjoy doing every day.  But I have a long way to go by Daddy's standards of what is truly beautiful.  For underneath the hematoma, fresh wounds and edematous arms and legs was a beautiful man, because he had a beautiful heart. 

Yes, Dad, masuwerte kami ikaw ang pinakasalan ni Mom. 

MY JOURNEY BACK TO HAPPY

DAY 2 – BUSY

Sometimes, this is how I cope.  Purposely flooding my day with things to do.  Back to back meetings.  Reports.  Proposals.  Task after task.  Crisis upon crisis.  Hoping that the work continuum would keep my mind too occupied to think about my heart.  Fearful that any void in my schedule leaves room for thoughts of Daddy to creep into my day.  Counting on the resulting exhaustion of my brain and body to anesthetize the pain that comes from remembering.  

On a good day, my head hits the pillow, I'm out like a light, good night, mission accomplished.

But they're not all good days.  Too often, despite a punishing 12 to 14-hour work schedule, the tears come out of nowhere, and I'm like, what the heck! Hey pain, I spent this whoooole day dodging you, I busted my brains out to keep you away, you're not supposed to be here, no, no, no!!!

Busy is not fail-safe. And since it is a hit or miss, my goal now is to channel my labor to doing the things that would make Daddy proud - taking care of Mom and her needs, being a stern but compassionate boss, looking out for others so that they can have better lives.

For if busy is not a guarantee that I will not cry, then at the very least I will make sure that it will make Daddy smile.

In 3 days, Daddy would have been gone for 2 months.  On most days, I still can't wrap my head around it. In my mind, I can still see his face, hear his voice, smell his perfume, which eventually evolved into the sickly scent of the hospital ICU.  After he was put on dialysis in June 2016, I thought we would have at least 2 more Christmases, New Years and birthdays with him. But in just 8 short months, he was gone.

Everyday since he passed, I wake up not knowing if this would be a good day or bad, if I will get through the day without the weight of grief engulfing my heart. Today, in between meetings, as I ate lunch alone at a client's food court, tears started running down my cheek as I ate a Ham and Cheese Bunwich by my lonesome. And as I wiped the tears away I resolved to write a journal, not just to chronicle my grief, but more importantly to let writing be the gate valve of my pain, fervently hoping that through my writing, the day that I am able to remember Dad without my heart hurting so frikkin much will come sooner than later. And I will strive to end each day with a reflection or resolve towards healing.  

Thus ends my first entry in my grief journal which I will call MY JOURNEY BACK TO HAPPY.