An open farewell-letter to my father-in-law

Bringing a handkerchief has never been a habit but logic told me that not bringing one at that particular occasion would be beyond foolish. And I was right. Tear-ducts were generous that morning.

It was a little past 3 in the morning when I was awakened by the sobbing husband. He said he got a text message from the mother saying that anytime then could be the time. After a few comfort words and hugs, we were on our feet preparing to leave. Barely had shower, barely had breakfast.

That was the longest 10 minute-wait before a cab stopped right in front of us. I mean, yes I understand it was barely dawn and the weather is at its best for hugging the pillows and hiding under the covers but aren't cabs supposed to show up fast in dire situations like this? 

We have already hopped inside the cab when Ralph's phone rang. The father had a seizure according to the voice on the other line. WE. MUST. HURRY.

Thanks to the God-sent driver and the cooperative EDSA traffic, we were at the National Kidney and Transplant Institute's ER in less than 30 minutes only to find out that we went to the wrong building. Another 5-minute brisk-walk under the drizzles and we finally breezed in to the room which number we have so well memorized while impatiently praying and restlessly thinking of so many blurred things in the cab earlier.

Once in the room, we were welcomed by so many tearful faces. It took me just a split-second glimpse at the man on the bed to join the crying bandwagon. It was painful. It pierced my heart seeing my husband talk to a man who couldn't respond to him anymore. The same man who used to be the strongest one in the household, now so frail, so small, and barely breathing. Right at that moment I prayed for God's will to be done. You don't have to be educated to know that Papa was struggling, still fighting. In my head, I was telling him, "Pa, let go. Let the Lord's eternal peace be upon you. It's time you stop fighting because we're all here now." By 6:15 of that midweek morning, Papa let out his last breath. 

Papa & hubby

Dear Pa, 

First of all, I'm well aware that you don't read blogs let alone go online. Don't worry, that's the Lord's problem to solve, not ours. I just hope you know that I am so happy that I was blessed with a chance to be your daughter before you left earth. I am so glad that your fight is over. No more pain, Pa. I'm sure that where you are right now, you can't be grumpy anymore. I've learned from the bible that heaven is the best place to be and that you couldn't ask for more when you're already in God's presence. Yes, not even bagnet, Pa because the Lord's presence is not comparable to any nice things on this earth. I'm sure you're all smiles. I thank you for making me feel nothing less than family the very first night I was invited by Ralph to your home for dinner. Thank you because you're half the reason my husband is who he is right now. Thank you for reading the bible cover to cover and congratulations for receiving God while there was still time. I'm sorry if your farewell process was too grievous. I'm sorry for the many nights I went home late from your house. It was actually sweet those times you scolded me for insisting on going home instead of staying for the night.

Don't worry about Mama, she will be well taken care of of her children and grandchildren especially that there are 10 of us now. Too bad you won't be able to be with your first grandson (yes! we claim it!). You will remain living in our hearts. Your never-ending kwentos about your childhood and mid-life chronicles will be missed. Sorry we didn't get to watch Man of Steel for Father's Day. We love you so much, Papa. See you in 50 years or so..

P.S. By the way, Pa, xoxo means hugs and kisses. ♥