Day 32. Life Goes On

If dad were still alive, today would have been mom and dad’s 38th wedding anniversary.

Mom chose not to celebrate it, even with us. But she did pay him a visit at his crypt, lit some candles and laid out some fresh flowers.

It’s been a little over a month, and life has gone on. The “normal” that I longed for is back. I don’t find myself staring off into nothingness anymore on idle moments. I’ve remembered what it’s like to do things I used to love doing. I can watch our DVDs again. I can read the tons of books waiting for me again. I can surf the Net, chat with friends, spend time on Facebook, and blog about other things apart from my dad.

The flashbacks have decreased significantly. When they do come, pushing them out of my head is easier — almost second nature. I find that there are still many things I have not come to resolve within me. Memories of his last few months are still too painful to remember and think about. It will take some time.

I dream about him sporadically. In all my dreams, he’s already ill but still alive. It’s different variations of the same scenario come back to haunt me in my dreams. Once or twice, I remember crying in my sleep – only I can’t remember if those were caused by dreams I had of him, or if it was something else entirely.

Life goes on, and we all grieve in our own way.

My older brother has seen fit to take over the role of dad. In the hopes of not repeating his mistakes or his perceived “shortcomings” when it came to my dad, he’s obsessed about spending more time with mom. Which is okay, except that sometimes it’s bordering on coddling her.

My mom alternates between being okay, being sad, and dredging up the not-so-good moments of their marriage. It didn’t help that supposedly, one of the household helps in their compound told my mom a few days ago that dad tried to put the moves on her. Two days ago, she was dreadfully mad and sad at the same time.

My younger brother seems to be the one who has recovered the quickest. I hope it’s for real, and I hope he’s not just sweeping it all under the rug convincing himself that he’s fine.

My husband has yet to fully recover from the trauma of all the ceremony that came with dad’s passing. That’s a story that deserves its own post. But I’m not writing about that today.

As for me, for the most part I’m already at peace with his death, and have slowly accepted that he’s no longer physically around.

One of the hardest things I still deal with nowadays though are small triggers that elicit memories I’m not yet ready to confront.

When he was in the hospital, twice I went around the hospital neighborhood looking for magazines that could keep him entertained. Thus, seeing magazine stands now make me cringe and bring forth a barrage of recollections and emotions that overwhelm me.

When we thought we could already bring him home from the hospital, I promised dad that I’d buy him a DVD of the movie “Expendables” since we were just chatting about it that day. Of course we already know he never went home. And so perhaps it will take quite some time until I’ll be able to watch that movie… if at all. Thankfully the reviews weren’t too good.

Even taking a crap stirs a memory I push away every time. I’ll never forget that the day before he passed away, he soiled himself and the entire room since he had already lost muscular control. Afterwards, he was already in a diaper all the way until his crematory services.

It’s little things like this that still stir up emotions I’d rather not deal with yet.

While some would say it’s an unhealthy way to deal, I say it’s setting aside until such time that it becomes easier and less recent.

And so, after 32 days, life for me, goes on. Yes, time makes things a little easier. But I still miss him.

And always, I pray that everytime I whisper a prayer, that he’s up there helping convince the powers that be, to grant my prayer.


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