Covid-19 Days – 89

broderic on June 10, 2020

As my mom tells it, the room in which my dad died smelled of flowers about the time he passed. It was a hospital room so the bleach like smell disappeared replaced with flowers. Amazing.

My father died on this date twenty years ago. I still miss him dearly.

What would life had been like with him around for these past twenty years? What would we have been? What would we have done? Would life be the same, but with him around to add even more enjoyment? It has been so many years without his presence that I can’t imagine it.

The man was jolly. I try to be as jolly as he was. His laugh was great and comforting. When we were just toddlers he was our Santa. There was no need to believe in the bearded fellow from the North Pole, because he was always living in our house. That’s how jolly he was.

Twenty years ago, I was there by his hospital bed on his last night. It haunts me now as the next day he was gone. I wish I could’ve had more time with him. I would’ve loved to have someone to confide in more as I got older. Someone to seek advice from. My dad was very right in a lot of things he asked of me. That is until his last…

If your dad is still around, hug him for me. Cherish the time now. We only have a finite time with our loved ones. Let’s live it with gusto.

Wreath at the Grave

broderic on December 6, 2015

Wreaths at rest

I can’t help but think of my dad…

I’m sure he would’ve been proud of me…

I’m sure he would also be repeating his last words to me…

I miss him so but more during the holidays for his heartwarming laugh. Like Santa!

Dad Was Right

broderic on June 15, 2014

Always listen to your father.

He told me many things. I was always sceptical.  I was also hard headed and didn’t want to listen. I can do it my way. I didn’t need his advice. What does he know?
Turns out a lot. My dad was smarter than me. Knew me a whole lot better than I knew myself. His advice was a lot better than my insincts. He knew. 
I should’ve listened to him from the start. I’ll admit now, his advice was always better. Happy Father’s Day. 

Jovial

broderic on March 23, 2013

jovial |ˈjōvēəl|
adjective
1. cheerful and friendly
2. Bernardo D. Gonzales, Jr., M.D.

I miss him so.

Link of the Day [11.02.10]

broderic on November 2, 2010

While Filipinos don't celebrate the Day of the Dead like they do in Mexico, we still commemorate our dearly departed on the 2nd of November. We stop by the cemetery and remember our departed loved ones.I completely forgot. Here's to hoping one of us made it to the cemetery to put a remembrance on our departed loved ones' graves.http://diadelosmuertos.us/

10 Years

broderic on June 10, 2010

I just caught sight of the date while writing a Link of the Day post.

Ten years ago June 9 was a Friday night. Lakers were also in the finals. I was only a few months into my job at IniTech. My father was in the hospital. And so was I.

My mother had gone home for some rest, and I guess it was my turn to stay. Although, I was already with him for so long while he struggled with the cancer that would eventually take his life. The prior year I had quit my job at Shore Studios to concentrate on getting my second degree in computer science, so my days were somewhat free, and by default I would be helping Dad.

Dad was diabetic, which didn’t contribute to his health. I often had to administer his insulin shot, and I would sometimes be his driver to take him to the dialysis center. Also, I was called upon to bring him to the hospital for any of his doctor’s appointments. I was there for him.

All through the night ten years ago, I sat by his bedside. It was difficult to sleep in the chair, and with the nurse coming in every hour, sleeping would be hard to manage. Sometime in the middle of the night, Dad made me cry. Between his labored breathing, we talk to each other other. He whispers encouragement to me, love for my brothers, and love for Mom. We cry together, and make it through the night.

The morning came and Mom, too.

On that bright, beautiful summer day, a month shy of his 60th birthday, Dad died. Ten years from tomorrow.

I miss him. What would these ten years have been with him around? Playing with his grandkids. Going to ball games. Laughing and enjoying time with his sons. Loving and enjoying time with Mom. Traveling. Conversing. Gallivanting. Smiling. Joking. Surprising. These are the things I know he would have loved doing. These are the things I wish he could have done.

The ten years since his death have come and gone. They at times passed all too quick, and yet, it is quite a long while from that day. The memory of Dad comes and goes. I know him, I remember him, I love him, still, but Dad, my father, is gone.

I miss him. I miss his laugh.

Father’s Day

broderic on June 10, 2007

In a week, it will be father’s day, but today it is already that for me. My dad died on this day 7 years ago. It was a dreadful day. Since then, I don’t know how to sum it up or speak about it. I think I don’t know how I feel about it at all.

I had spent the night before he died with him in the hospital. There were words exchanged that night that are hard to grasp. I vaguely recall them only because they are too painful to recall. It was comforting and heart breaking at the same time. You see I spent most of his last year alive with him almost daily. The cancer that took his life was a pain to watch ravage him, but I like to think that I was there to help him when he needed mostly taking him to the dialysis clinic or the occasional hospital visit. On those rides to the doctor’s office, he subtly hinted that he knew that he was dying. I don’t think I paid much heed to them until he explicitly told me he was going to die soon. Then I felt scared.

To this day, I still wonder if I had been as caring for him in his last days as I could’ve been.

When I got home from the hospital on the day he died, I set about mowing the lawn. It was just me and my youger brother. The call came sometime after noon. My brother came out and said we should get to the hospital. I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to not have a father.

My actions were queer and deliberate. I stopped mowing, went inside, and took a shower. I dreaded going. I wished it hadn’t have happened, so I took a shower. I don’t know why.

We rode to the hospital in silence. Neither one of us wanting to say it. I did not see my father alive again.

Yet, he still lives in me. I am my father’s son or at least as close to being the type of person he had wanted me to be. If I could be half the man my father was then I can feel that I am much.

I will always remember the time together we shared during that last year of his life.

I remember the final night with him in the hospital. You know we cried together that night. He told me to love my mom and take care of her, to love my brothers and respect them, to love myself and be proud, and to love my family for they are what’s best about the world.

For a better reminiscence, see my brother’s entry,