My husband asked me if I need or want anything today. I have been on the phone all day, calling hospital after hospital if they still have room for a non covid, non emergent critical patient. I talked to dozens of hospitals today but we only found one that admitted my father. Once he got there, the news was not what I hoped for. I've been crying. Along with my sister who's been with my father to the very and, amd my brother who is overseas and can't come home because of this freaking pandemic.
When my husband asked me if I needed anything, I asked him to buy me a Jolly Spaghetti. I had no idea why. I just craved for it. When the order came, I realized why. This has always beeny father's pasalubong everytime I tell him I aced a major exam in school, or that I am bringing home another medal from a school competition. It reminded me of the afternoons I looked forward to seeing him come home from work. Those days when he would catch me crying over a difficult math assigment. He was my tutor. Until the time he couldn't catch up with my lessons anymore. He was a highschool graduate. But that did not stop him from teaching me.
I remember the time I told him "Pa, we need a shoe rack." I strongly dislike the sight of slippers scattered in front of the door. Here in our country, we remove our footwear amd leave them by the door before entering the house. Back then he had been unemployed. It was years after he stopped going to work when I figured out he had been laid off. He never really shared his hardships. He just told me to study hard, and finish school. So when I told him about the shoe rack, he just gave me his toolbox, handed me a bunch of plywood and 2x2, and told me "Go ahead, make one." I was a 14 back then. I told him I can't, he told me I should learn. He was not just teaching me woodworking back then. He wanted me to know that women can also do what men does. That I should know things around the house. I only appreciated that lesson when I lived by myself in my mid 20's.
Not only that, he trained me to fetch water from a well, he made me carry heavy pails of water, he taught me how to unclog pipes in the bathroom and under the sink. Boy, I thought the multiplication technique using fingers was difficult.
I learned a lot from him. He was my king who made me feel like a princesd and spoiled me the best way he can. He was stern and so serious. But he was funny and kind. Fair and just to me and my siblings. Although my sibling say he gave me special treatment. I looked almost exactly like him. I could have been junior, but it is true, my name was derived from his. I even got the same birthmark on the face like him.
He was an image of strength to me. His voice was thundering and loud when he is disciplining us. He was scary when he was angry. Especially when his anger was towards me. That meant that all 4 of us brothers and sisters are in deep shit. But he would crack dad jokes most of the time. And he would joke around when mother nags and that made our lives fun. And funny. And easier even when times were hard.
When the doctor broke the news to us, my siblings and I tried to comfort each other as much as we could. I hate this pandemic even more. After a long silence, then a recount of what needs to be done, and a lot of silent mourning over the conference call, we bade goodbye. As soon as I got off the phone, a lot of memories played and replayed on my head. Some good, some not so.
I'm not sure how my brain brought me to that state, but I just found myself remembering all the heartaches and disappointments I caused my father. I was an curious youngster before, and I have made some decisions that have given him disappoinments and have broken his heart a lot of times. I have said my apologies, and have made ammends when I grew older but still, I remember his face when I did all those things. I do remember how proud he was, but still his disapproval and disappointed face made me cry even harder this time.
I have seen this situation coming. I have been aware if his condition and have made my peace with it, but now that it is true and is very real, I still can't help but weep. I am still wide awake, babbling endlessly here, trying to remember all the good times, but my brain betrays me and reminds me of how awful I was to him when I was younger. When I didn't know better. I knew better when I matured but I still feel how much I hurt him.
We have been at this battle since 2007 when he had his first stoke. Ever since then, he has never been the same. Physically, that is. His spirit was still strong. He fought strong and hard for so long. Now he's gone. I miss him. I miss our puto bungbong dates during Christmas seasons. I miss bragging about my achievements to him. I miss our guitar sessions, our chess lessons, his corny dad jokes, his reassuring voice. I miss him.
And so, when my husband asked if I needed anything, all I needed was a Jolly Spaghetti. It has always been my favorite. It has always been my comfort food. And now I know why.
@romeskie is a full-time stay at home mom juggling homeschooling, crocheting, and homemaking. A Business Administration graduate with a major in Marketing who ended up in the contact center industry, on the frontlines, climbing her way up to Workforce Management where she found her passion in real-time analysis and management. A once self-proclaimed careerwoman who soon realized homemaking was her real calling. Her passion varies from reading, writing, photography, and most of all, crocheting.
Connect with her through her Facebook Page: The Leftie Crocheter and on Instagram. Feel free to subscribe to her Youtube Channel: The Leftie Crocheter
