Gallery 10

In a week of the 10th to 16th of October 1994, my dad had the flu, so my sister Mitch bought Theraflu to ease his sickness. Two o'clock in the afternoon on the 17th, I came home from school and was surprised to find my dad home from work early taking a nap. I was worried that he might have fallen ill again, but decided to let him rest. Two hours later I became hungry. While walking to the kitchen, I heard the humming of the microwave, which probably meant my father was warming up the left over food from last night. Not a word passed between us during the next hours as we ate and watched television. I do not know why. To this day, I still think about it. Not knowing that afternoon would be our last meal together. Even worse, I never said a word to him that evening either. I was not mad at him. Sometimes when a person has a lot of things inside their head, she or he prefers to be left alone.

That evening, my father acted very strange. Disoriented and discombobulated, he went up and down the stairs several times and sat beside my mother. Baffled by her husband's actions, my mother questioned him, "What is the matter with you tonight?" My father answered, "Nothing dear. I just want to sit beside you."

My sister Michelle came downstairs and asked my father if he would write a Happy Birthday greeting on a card for her friend because he had beautiful penmanship. Unfortunately, he turned her down because he was very tired. My sister asked permission to go to her friend's party and he agreed. After the short conversation, they said farewell.

Before my parents went to sleep, for the first time in years they had a long decent conversation because ever since my family immigrated here, my parents had struggled to make ends meet, such as working for minimum wage, not paying bills on time, and short of money. But on that evening they talked and laughed about little stupid and petty things. For my mother, it was a sense of joy. But, little did she know that this would be their last moment together.

Early in the morning around five thirty, my mother was awakened suddenly by a loud bang. It sounded like a barbell being thrown at the door. Panicked and worried, she arose from her bed. Upon opening the door, she saw my dad lying on the floor face down. She rushed to my brother's door, knocked furiously and yelled, "Mike something happened to your dad!"

Upstairs in my bedroom I was sound asleep until I heard a frantic knocking and hushed but firm voice sobbing at my sister's door, "Michelle, your dad. He's gasping for breath, quick!" Awakened by my mother's sobbing voice, she opened the door, and both of them ran downstairs. I was baffled as to why my mother did not woke me up. Instead of getting out of bed, I went back to sleep.

Downstairs in the basement, while checking his pulse, my mother noticed my dad was hardly breathing. "Call 911!" she cried hysterically. While Michelle talked to the operator, my mother screamed, "Your dad's lips are turning blue!" My sister yelled at the operator, "Would you please hurry up, we need ambulance right now!" She hung the phone up, ran to my dad, and did C.P.R. Five minutes later the ambulance arrived along with two police cars.

In my bedroom, I was awakened by the wail of ambulance sirens and slamming doors. Scared and petrified, I laid still for five minutes before getting up. I headed out from my room and peeked downstairs to see what was happening. My eyes widened upon seeing two paramedics performing C.P.R. on my father trying to save his life. It took me ten seconds to peek and then I rushed to my room. I knelt down in front of the window, and said these strange words to God. "Oh God, please don't take him away yet. Who will walk me down the aisle when I'm married? Please save him."

Around six o'clock in the morning, I heard Michelle crying hysterically in the bathroom. Shaken by her voice I ran towards her. "What happened? Is he ok?" then my sister said, "He's gone." Baffled by what she said, I questioned her again. She said the same words, "I told you. He's gone!" I became numb, shocked, and could hardly breathe. A policeman came towards me and put his rand on my left shoulder and said, "I'm sorry about your dad." I looked at him with a blank stare. I wished that everything was a joke, and one of them would say, "Got yah!" but then a reality check. It was real.

I could not even embrace my sister or my mother or asked any sympathy. I wanted to be alone. As I went outside the house, my surroundings seemed gloomy, quiet, and full of sadness. The weather was cloudy, breezy, and cold; it was fall season.

My head was full of questions. I kept asking myself why this had happened. I thought he would live to an old age with my mother. To see his grandchildren grow up, spoiling them with gifts, and giving unconditional love...I guess not. To this day, I keep telling myself I should have said a word, even a sentence to my dad, but it was not meant to be.

Losing a loved one can change a person's outlook in life. The death of my father gave me an emotional scar, therefore, guilt and denial for a long time still haunts me even though I accepted that he is gone. I don't know whether the pain I feel inside will heal. My family and I miss my dad terribly. A laid-back father who loves his family unconditionally, to the point of leaving his job as an architech in the Philippines for the sake of his children's future. I'm sure my father is up there in heaven watching over his family. So, dad, wherever you are, I wanted to let you know that you are truly missed. I love you very much. Until we meet again in heaven...One sweet day.