Cure #4: A daughter's message
I slowly looked at the faces of every person who attended the wake of my beloved father. In the back, I saw her, my mom, sitting and looking at me. Again, my irritation towards her suddenly bursts, but I've just paid no attention to it. I don't want to spoil this time to be provoked by her presence.
I closed my eyes to compose myself. Memories of him came rushing in.
Like the time that I kept crying because I find out that my brother died because of the negligence of my mother. I love my brother as much as I love my father. I intended to get him from my mother when he's old enough, but he died.
My mom and dad separated when I'm seven years old and my brother is three that time. Confused on what's happening, I chose my father thinking that he's going to have a vacation. You see, I liked to travel.
Days went by and my curiosity strikes.
"Dad, when will we go home? I wanted to share with Manny (lil bro) stories. Like the time where we went hiking and catch insects. When you brought me to your office and played with your co-workers. And when we went to a carnival and ate ice cream. It was so much fan!"
"First of all, I thank those who are here. In any way, I know he touches your lives. Each of you here had your own relationship with my Dad; furthermore, each of you has your own set of memories that describes him," I smiled sweetly at them. I looked at their faces that show agreement to what I said.
"You see, it is a difficult task for me to stand before you and honor him without shedding any tear. There are no words to express his influence in my life. Losing him is one of the most difficult things I have gone through, but I realize how fortunate I was to have him as my father. I really do feel that the quality time I spent with him was enough lessons for me to live on," I continued.
"My father showed the strength of a man who truly loves his wife. My father's example to us was that a man could strive to have a relationship with a woman based on love and mutual respect, not on some brute force."
My mind wanders back at the time where my mom and my dad where happily looking at each other's eyes and holding each other's hand while uttering their undying love to one another. They even made simple moments of life - eating or sleeping - take on a gorgeous quality. For a child back then, it grosses me out; but then, I admired their relationship. It feels like I was watching a romantic movie starring my parents. Never-ending love.
I smiled at what I thought and speak again, "However, he was no saint by any means. As a child, I always looked forward to my father's childhood friends, "Uncle Fred" and "Uncle Hunter" coming over to the house. Their fascinating stories about their youthful days make me saw a different side of my father." I giggled as I remember their stories.
"He was a practical joker, for me, at least. I remember when my dad brought out the handcuffs, which were fake, and dangled it in the face of my date which made my date sweat profusely even though it was hot. Or even the 'interrogation time' with my suitors with a fake gun. The reactions of the guys were epic. Oh boy! It was funny. But, I am sure that my father was just protecting me. And I thank him," I stated while holding my laughter and tears.
"Dad lived a good life." I cleared my throat as I continued my speech, "He respected and cherished us all. He held values which helped make the person I am today. I will always be thankful for the influence he had on my life while growing up. Though I hate that he left without hearing my words of affection, but I hope he's happy, wherever he is."
I suddenly recall the scene where I found him dead. It was evening, and I came home late because of my work. I called his name, after I put down my bag.
"Dad, I'm home! There are plenty of work loads at the office that's why I come home late," I explained while walking towards the dining area.
"What's for dinner?" I asked as I lifted the lid of the food only to find an empty space. I frowned. I looked at my wristwatch and check my phone.
Where is he? It's already past ten and he hasn't texted me.
"Dad?" I shouted again while standing in the foot of the staircase.
But silence answered me.
"Maybe, he just buys food at some store," I convinced myself as I march towards the couch only to hear a loud thud upstairs.
Without any hesitation, I hurriedly climbed the stairs and hear a voice in my dad's room. "You asshole! She leaves you, still you're pursuing her? Aren't you satisfied that you've got everything? You have the money and wealth-" I opened the door and found my dad bathing on his own blood, dying.
I quickly went to my dad but the killer kicked me away. He told me that someone like him shouldn't exist. With a knife on his hand, he stabbed him continuously. I can't do anything but to watch the gruesome act the killer was doing.
My body automatically move towards the door, away from that room. I love my father, but I can't watch how he suffers. I can't bear to see my father's death by dying like a tortured animal and I ran for my safety as well.
***
I kept crying and crying the day after. I can't help to throw things at my room and even hurt myself when I remember that night when I hold my dad's body that's beyond recognizable. I can't accept it. He also left me. I thought that he'll stay, but just like everybody else, he left me. Maybe, it's their habit to leave me.
"I know somewhere; you're looking at us smiling. I love you dad! You'll never be forgotten," I said as I hurriedly ended up my speech and returned to my sit.
***
After the burial of my beloved father, some of my relatives who attended the wake, approached me and questioned if I was okay; what were my plans; if I needed a company at the house; and many other questions that I haven't heard, since my attention was drawn by the woman who's intently looking at me with imploring eyes, my mother. I suddenly became unresponsive. They noticed my silence and looked at the source of my quietness.
Right there and then, they understand. I know that they know something, yet we respected each other's privacy not to ask anything from anyone.
"Face trouble with courage, disappointment with cheerfulness, and triumph with humility." The train of thoughts inside my head came to a stopped when I heard that, and raise one eyebrow at him as I shifted my weight at my right foot.
"Uncle, what are you saying? Are you using some kind of medicine? Are you okay?" I asked confused.
"I know you understand what I said. You have to face the trials of life with courage, especially now. Don't let your pain overlook the good deeds she did. Talk to her."
He is Uncle John, one of my father's siblings. He may be younger than my father, but he speaks like his older than my father.
"My child, go talk to your mom. After all, she's still your mother. The one who gave you your life," he said on his sweetest tone.
"John is right. Your mom is still your mom. No matter how much she had hurt you."
Aunt Nora. Who lived abroad along with her Canadian husband and their only child. She returned to the Philippines to attend the funeral of his brother.
I let out a deep breath and talk, "I know, she's my mom and she's the one who gave birth to me...but why did she abandon me and my dad? Why did she let my brother die? Why did she destroy our family? Why?" Silence remains after I said that.
Actually, I don't hate her. Hurt maybe, but I don't hate her. They're both right. It's just that, I can't seem to forget her mistakes and set aside it. Let alone I've been into so many moments in my life where I can't find anyone to turn-
My thought was interrupted, yet again, because of Uncle John. "You will not know the answers to your question, child, if you wouldn't approach her."
I didn't respond to him; instead, I just looked at him.
He's right, you know. My conscience said. I looked at my mother and looked back at him.
I look at him and saw him looking at me with hopeful eyes. I sigh and begin to walk towards her.
When I approached her, I smiled sweetly like an angel. She smiled back at me and wanted to embrace me. But a strong slap meets her. She's left shocked. They all did.
"What are you doing here? How dare you come here! Are you not the one who separated with my dad to exchange him with another man, then you show up here?" I said angrily, ignoring the audiences who witnessed it.
"Margarette dear, let me explain," she said teary eyed.
"No way! You listen to me. You know what, I wanted to be like you...a beautiful and talented adult, an admiring daughter to my grandparents, and a sensible woman...yet you destroyed it. Why? Are you really that flirty and even fool my dad?" She slapped me because of my last statement; but I ignore it and continue speaking.
"Is it good to wonder and explore? Is it good to taste another man while my dad is busy loving you? Isn't he enough?" Someone tap my shoulder but I shrugged it off and cried. Yes, I cried. The tears I'm holding back while ago, flowed down from my eyes. The thought of my dad loving her and even understanding and helping her, pities me. He gave his love to the wrong woman.
She stood still while silently shedding her tears.
A moment of silence, still no response, I leave and ignored them calling my name.
***
I looked around the house again. It feels so empty. Finally, I went to the living room and seated on a couch.
I sat there for a long while staring blankly at the space. I recall what happened that night when I found him dead.
What a day! First, I attended my dad's funeral; after, I encountered my mom. I even slapped her. I didn't really mean to do that. I'm so upset to her, that I did that. Should I have listened to what she would say? How? I mean, is there hope for me to accept her again? Can I forgive her?
To my surprised, the door opened and dad went inside and stood in front of me.
"You're supposed to be dead. I made a message of farewell just for you and read it. We buried you earlier," I said shocked. Pointed at him in disbelief.
I saw him frown and said, "Aren't you happy to see me alive?"
I recovered from my rudeness and embrace him. Yes, he's right. He's here and I'm embracing him. I mean, that's all that matters, right?
"Margarette dear, I did not like the behavior you displayed earlier. You slapped your mother," he said as he breaks away to my embrace.
I made face and swallowed because of what he said. I smiled foolishly to hide my guilt.
"What I told her was true dad. She deserves it." I remember what I did.
"Even if it's the truth or not. You should not have done it. She's still your mother."
I rolled my eyes in disbelief. He's still protecting her even though she hurt him.
Even though I wanted to answer back, I remain quiet.
"Not everything was resolve with anger. Don't let your action to dominate your thinking," he preached. Whatever.
"You know, do not do something you'll regret later," he continued when I remained silent.
"I know that you still love her. You won't get hurt like that, if she's not important. You simply get hurt. I know, deep down in you, you still have amour towards her. You didn't lose it. You simply hide it."
After he said that, silence prevailed in the living room, as we stood there while staring at each other. I am shocked to those words he said. Did he read my mind?
"I hope you'll give her a chance to stay in your life again." After he says that, he walks toward the door.
"Dad, where are you going?" I asked as I follow him. I can't afford to lose him again.
"A man begins to die when he ceases to expect anything from tomorrow," he said without looking at me.
"Huh? What are you saying?" I asked, confused as I saw him open the door and saw a familiar house.
"Understand that people change. You need to accept it and move on." After he said that, he looks at the door and walks toward it.
"No matter how angry we are, we always end up forgiving the person we love."
I don't remember what happened. I realize that I'm standing, by myself, in front of her door and stared at the woman in front of me. Suddenly it hits me. Accept it and move on.
Without realizing it, I found myself hugging her. I bury my face in her garment to hide the tears rolling down from my eyes. I realized in myself that I was eaten by the displeasure that I felt.
"Forgive me, mom. I didn't mean I did. Sorry. Can you forgive me?"
I'm surprised she hugged me back. I prepared myself for the worst scenarios, but to be accepted without any remorse? Those made me cry even more.
"Hush, my dear child. I'm so glad that we're okay now. I'm so sorry if I'm not by your side when that happened. I'm really sorry. And I swear, we'll capture that crazy bastard who did that to your father. I was blinded by my stupidity. I thought it was real love, I was wrong. Your dad has died first, before I realize my stupid mistake of leaving him and choosing a wrong man. Forgive me."
It feels good to forgive and be forgiven. We are now settled living in the same house and hoping that someday, they'll catch the murderer of my father and his husband.