“Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace.”― Oscar Wilde, The Canterville Ghost
My Papa recently left this world due to Lung Cancer. He was diagnosed last June 2017 with Stage 4 of the disease, and he died exactly 51 days after, on July 2017.
I will never forget how permanently traumatizing it was to watch his heartbeat on the monitor slowly cascade until it reached zero. I will never forget how we held him in our arms on those last hours, just silently praying that his pain will finally subside, even though our hearts were breaking at the thought of losing him.
At 4:30 PM on that fateful July day in the hospital, the ECG test performed on him produced a long, straight line— which signified the confirmation of his death.
My world fell down to pieces. I felt like ten thousand stones were dropped on my heart when the doctor announced he was gone.
The next thing I remember was standing in the funeral casket store, helping my older sister choose which casket his lifeless body would be placed in. My blood turned cold. I still cannot manage to accept the reality of it all. I cannot believe that he’s gone. It was just so fast, you know. Fresh scenarios still linger in my head. A few months ago we were just laughing together, telling crazy stories about his childhood and joking around. Even if he was already feeling discomfort in his lungs, he hid it from us just so we could make memories to cherish. Before he got truly sick, he never failed to make an effort to make our whole family happy.
Then, it’s as if a swift wind blew upon us, and he’s gone— just like dust.
Since then, a void has began to grow inside me, a pure sort of sadness that grips my whole soul. How do I forgive death, when it has taken away one of my most precious beloved in the world? It seems impossible. My father was my very first memory. In my childhood, we often spent our days together, inseparable. He and my mother were the best people I know. Always so kind, loving, and helpful to everyone they meet. That's why, when this tragedy struck our family, I just found myself lost. I am not yet ready to face a world without my father. This was not how I planned it in my head. I always thought that my parents will grow up to be a lovely elderly couple who would live a long life. But now, this is but a sad dream.
My father has taught me a lot of things to survive this world. But most of all, he taught me how to forgive. Back when he was still alive, he had always told me to let the bad things go. When something had hurt me or made me cry, he often said it will be okay. When I got into misunderstandings with other people, he always told me that I should never go to sleep without forgiving them, so that there could be peace in my heart. Now that I thought of it, my father was a very forgiving man. He never had any enemies in his lifetime. He never harbored any pride, anger or cruelty to other people. He had always forgiven anybody who had caused pain to him.
Even when he started to get really sick, he had forgiven himself— for once abusing his body with cigarettes and other toxins. He had made peace with it all, and accepted his fate.
And I think, that is how I could forgive death. I may not understand the reason why it has to happen so early, but I am choosing to make peace with it in my heart. Slowly, I will learn to accept this loss. I may not be able to forget the scar it left on my heart, and I might spend my lifetime missing him, but I am choosing to forgive his death.
Death only takes away a person’s physical body, but it doesn’t take away the memories one has created. It does not take away the lessons, the influence, the significance, and the legacy of my father’s fruitful life lived on earth.
And though he may be gone, I believe my father will constantly be with me in every chapter of my life. I may not get to see him anymore, but I know he will guide me and my family in all the choices we will take. I know we will still hear his voice speaking to us, and feel his arms holding us together, as we move through life. I also know that our love for him will remain strong, even though he's gone.
Fast forward to the last night of 2017. As the fireworks filled the sky above us on New Year's Eve, tears flowed from my eyes. I missed Papa so bad. This time last year, we were all so happy. I remember each New Year that I have spent with him, I recall how he would excitedly call me during the fireworks display that begin when the clock strikes midnight, signifying the beginning of the year. We would rush outside and squeal at the visual delight in the sky, filling ourselves with so much happiness.
That night, as I watched the fireworks alone, I pictured that he was still beside me, holding my shoulders while welcoming 2018. But then I breathed and imagined seeing him fly freely up in the sky. And I told myself, that I will try my best to be stronger this year, with Papa in my heart, I will not be afraid. And that I will make it my goal to be healed and to grow more as a person.
Then I stopped crying as Mama and my older sister called me inside our house, with a little hopeful smile in their also tearful faces. And then we prayed together at the altar and ate Media Noche just like we did each year.
Our life goes on ultimately, though we have been hurt.
