Remembering Daddy

I saw my father dead the day he actually died. This may sound morbid but it's true. The night before he passed away, I saw him inside a coffin, wearing exactly the same dress he wore when he was brought out of the funeral parlor.

In the morning of December 3, 1978, my Dad asked me to iron his favorite barong tagalog and slacks as he was attending a friend's wedding. At the last minute, however, he changed his mind and used another pair. "Keep that set (referring to the one I ironed), your brother will use that when he gets married", he said. But I did not heed his order so I just left his clothes hanging beside the ironing board, little did I know this will be the same pair he will use in his death.

Dawn of December 4, 1978, he had a fatal heart attack. As I was going down the stairs, I saw him sprawled on the floor, lifeless. I could not believe it myself because just a few hours ago, he came to our room and asked me to massage his back. He usually asks me to do this because my mother was always out of town and comes home only on weekends. (My mother works in Manila then). Incidentally I was born in Manila but we migrated to the province because of my Dad's job.

I was shocked and I really felt so bad because I never had the chance to tell my Dad how much I loved him. I have seven other siblings but I was the so called "Daddy's girl", yet there was not any instance I can remember when I verbally told him my love for him. This is one of the greatest regrets in my life. But I believe, wherever he is now, my Dad knows how much I really treasured him and how thankful I am for having him as my father.

My Dad was a disciplinarian and a very prayerful man, mainly because he was a seminarian. Actually, he was ready for ordination (he was supposed to join the SVD) but he married my mother a few months before his marriage with the Lord. Although he renounced his vow of celibacy, he kept his vow of poverty. While he could have led the life of a well-to-do man, being the son of a politician and a landed man in their hometown, he chose to live away from his parents and reared us with his own means. He led us to a life of prayer, not to a life of luxury. I did not understand this when I was a child, but only when I grew up did I realize the lesson he wanted us to learn. To this day, thirty years since he passed away, I still miss my Dad. I am making this article for Dad, just to let him know, he remains in my heart.

Going back to "that" premonition of my Dad's death, it was not the only one, actually, it was just the first. So many premonitions of death came after. My friends say this is a "gift" but I don't consider it as one, honestly, it scares me. I have "seen" some of my relatives, and a few friends in their death and in all these instances, my anxiety was overwhelming. But in all these occurrences, I always prayed because this I know is the most and best I can do.