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Monday.
A typically normal day, but this wasn't a normal day.
At least, not for us.
I hurriedly grabbed my phone from my pockets as I stood by the road, waving at any tricycle that passed by.
"Dude, I need you to get to the hospital, quick." I said without breathing as soon as he picked the phone up. I was panicking.
Hold on, please. I'm still not there. Don't—
“Why? I thought-” He said as he answered the call.
I had to cut what I was about to say because I'm trying my best holding back my tears. "We were all wrong— I was about to go back there from packing what they both need while there—"
Not now. Not outside. Not in public. Not now.
I breathed deeply to suppress the tears that's threatening to spill out.
"My mom called. She was hysterical. She— she said my father is getting revived as she was speaking—" I covered my mouth to stop myself from sobbing audibly.
"She needs someone. Please. I'm on my way, but please. Be with her."
"I'll try my best. Take care." As soon as we ended the call I miraculously managed to have a tricycle stop in front of me.
I need to think straight or else I'll be following him.
I tried to be rational. I gave the driver the instructions as clearly as I could.
And then, it started raining.
I let out a sigh. Could this day get any worse?
Worried sick about what's going on at the place, I called my mother— not knowing I'll receive the answer to my thoughts.
"How ar—"
“He's gone.” I can hear her choking on her tears as she was trying to inform me what happened.
"...What?"
“He's gone. They— they tried reviving him. He didn't make it. He's dead.”
"I... I'm on my way." was all I could say before ending the call.
I could hear a lot of voices crying in the background of the call— and it was extremely contagious.
I didn't realize that I was already sobbing inside the tricycle until I felt teardrops on my hands.
I tried to maintain my calm composure as I was travelling a very long road to the hospital.
I need to be radical. They don't need someone else crying. They don't need to see me crying, too.
I have to be strong.
The tricycle then pressed the brake hard enough for me to get back to reality.
Apparently we were stuck in traffic just a few blocks away from the hospital.
I didn't waste any time and gave him the fare and wished him a safe trip. I ran to the hospital as soon as I got out, only to see everyone waiting for me there.
My partner was by the door.
Looking at my face full of sympathy, he lightly tapped my shoulders before letting me open the doors to the emergency room.
There he was, lying on his hospital bed— now inside a body bag.
I didn't even get to see his face before they wrapped him up inside.
There was a deafening silence as I entered the room.
I couldn't care less entering the room with my now wet pants— I just wanted to at least tell him something.
Let him know I'm back.
I can feel all eyes on me as I approach the black bag- like they're expecting a desperate sob from me or something...
He's my father, after all.
I tried feeling where his face was on the bag- and when I located what felt like his nose, I kneeled to level with his right ear.
"Pa, I'm back." I started whispering as I tried reaching for his hands through the bag.
"I'm glad you've finally decided. It hurts, but we'll be fine." I sadly smiled.
"I respect what your decision is. I'm just hoping that you'll finally be at peace from now on." I stood up and kissed the palm of my left hand— then put it on where his forehead was.
Then gave his wrapped body one last hug before I got lost in my thoughts.
My brain is full but it couldn't pick out a single, cohesive thought.
Confusion is what's dominating my system at the moment as I start to wonder how I'm feeling— and how I can pull this façade off for such a long time.
I've had lots of emotion brewing in me before, but this one was different.
The thing is, I haven't experienced something like this before— I don't know how bad grieving feels.
Regardless, I still tried keeping my composure.
I knew it was my time to go, so I turned to the door and walked towards it. Time slows down as I get closer to the door, and all I could hear were sounds of sobbing hearts that were broken by false hopes...
I hope that I instilled in them.
But nobody knew when this would happen— we all for sure did not expect it to happen now...
I thought it'd only get better before I went home— it was the precise reason why I went home...
I was helping us to get more items we can use while staying there until he's stable enough for a hospital transfer.
That's why I stopped by their place, extremely optimistic.
"He's awake now— the staff was trying to feed him through tubes and he was feeling pain— but the pain woke him up." I said.
"The doctor told us that if he continues being stable in all of his vitals, he'll be transferred to a better hospital and get better treatment.”
Watching their faces lit up while I was telling them my father's status was like watching a fireworks show when it begins.
All of them were gathered in one of my aunt's houses, they were trying to contact every sibling my father has so they could all go to the hospital to visit him and were trying to hurry up because they didn't know what his situation was.
I could tell from their faces that they were thankful that I told them that.
"Oh- good! I was about to tell all of them to hurry up, or we'll probably arrive there with him dead." I smiled nervously as I felt chills down my spine.
This is fine, I thought. It was nothing.
"Thank you for telling us, anyways. We were worried sick of him. I'm glad he's awake now."
"It'll only be a while until he can talk and be stable enough to go home." I said as I nodded in response.
"Well, I told him he still has his laundry to do, so he better get back home alive and well. Because his laundry is waiting." The room got filled with laughter after what I said.
It wasn't just the laundry, not even the cats.
Everyone was waiting for him.
I got out of the room and looked for the source of all the cries and I saw all of my relatives on the side of the hospital, sobbing.
"We arrived a second too late." one of my aunts said, "We were only by the door and we already heard your mom wailing inside. We knew he's gone."
"If it weren't for the tricycle's engine stopping twice— we would've been here." My other aunt said.
"It's like he didn't want us to witness him die."
I looked over at my partner's direction, motioning him to talk. "I arrived not long before they did. I was too late as well."
This is all my fault.
If I hadn't given them any hope, they wouldn't be more hurt.
They were probably expecting an awake version of him, raising his eyebrows and eyes following them wherever they went.
But they arrived when he's already gone.
This is my fault.
It would've probably been better if he wasn't brought here to a small hospital.
A defibrillator would've probably increased his chance to get revived. A better set of supplies would've been better.
This is all my fault.
I shouldn't have told him to let go if he couldn't fight anymore.
I shouldn't have told him he can rest and we'll respect whatever his decision is.
Everyone's hurting and I couldn't do anything about it.
He's gone and I couldn't do anything to save his life.
I always argue with him about getting a check-up. Every day.
Every time he consulted me, in hopes of getting an accurate assessment.
But I was no doctor.
And he needed a real one.
I kept telling him that.
And I've been trying to convince him to consult one. He didn't listen.
"If I went to the hospital, I'll probably come back dead." His response everytime I reprimand him for declining my suggestion.
"You'll be dead regardless if you let what you're feeling stay that way— undiagnosed." I always reply to uis nonsense, which ends up being the cause of our argument every time.
Another one you predicted, huh?
Have you always known that your time was shorter than we'd expect?
Everything after that moment became a blur— it's like all of my senses became numb.
I even went to the nurses' table without thinking straight— I couldn't remember everything except one.
Time of Death: 4:35 pm.
Time passed by... I was saying things I didn't remember saying, agreeing to things I haven't fully processed.
I didn't even realize that we're home until I saw one of my father's clothing in a box upstairs.
That's when I realized everything.
Me and my partner were upstairs. To get decent clothes for him to wear on the funeral.
Because he's dead.
And we only got a few days until a bunch of strangers carry his case and slowly burn his body.
Then he'll be back to us— in ashes, inside a marble jar. Forever preserved.
He's gone... and it all sank in just now...
I'll never see him sitting by the table, scrolling through his phone while the electric fan provides him air in the heat.
He won't be here, fetching cases and cases of drinks we sell by the store, or even carrying the sacks of rice that get delivered to us.
He won't be here to constantly taunt me and then get angry when I get mad at him.
What will happen to me and my mom now...?
We're now left alone.
I came back to reality when I felt my partner's hands around me, enclosing me on a hug I didn't realize I needed.
At the time I didn't care how loud I was or how many people could hear me.
All I wanted was to let out the pain I've been feeling that I was trying to repress.
Right now, there's no one here aside from my breaking soul and my partner's comforting hug.
I woke up with tears falling down my cheeks.
It was just a dream... Except it was what happened last year..
I let out a deep sigh. It's been a year; I thought to myself.
I probably forgot the exact details that day, but I still remember the pain I've felt around me— and the longing I've felt still remains crystal clear.
July 18.
Our adopted cats Arianne and her mother Iris followed him soon.
December 25.
February 22.
Three losses within this time period.
I let out a sad chuckle. "It's like you wanted everyone to follow you." I said as I looked at my father's photo.
He was making a funny face on the picture he took himself and kept it on his phone so he'd show it to us to get some laughs.
On a regular day, it would've brought me a laugh, maybe a sarcastic retort.
But today was different.
It's the eighteenth.
The rain was pouring down heavily outside. It's reminding me of the day we lost him.
The foundation of this household.
Me and my mom still cry on the most random times occasionally.
We're still having a hard time recovering— I'm still having a hard time recovering.
The wound you left us is still open, and it still hurts.
For how long are we going to stay like this?
Papa, mom has been suffering more than what she lets me know.
For the past year I couldn't function properly— I still couldn't, but I'm trying my best to do so.
I knew that I needed to do something..
Anything...
Because we can't continue living like this.
We're already suffering emotionally and financially... We don't need to add on another struggle...
But I can't.
I can't make myself move and do something.
I'm paranoid.
What if one day mama feels something bad and I wasn't there to help?
What if one day I come home to the sight of my dead mother?
What if I lose her too soon?
I wasn't there when you died, papa.
I don't want to not be there when mama decides it's time for her to meet you again.
We're still living, like what you said.
But is everything going to be alright? Everyday I feel more like we're walking flesh just waiting for our own time to finally reunite with you.
Will everything be alright? Or are we going to suffer like this until we end up dead?