Three days before my father died, I found myself in my lowest emotional moment. I just listened to the song “Don’t You Remember” by Adele, for I think a million times.
While listening again and again, and then again; my emotion burst with thoughts of loneliness, and I had this heavy feeling that lacked explanation. Even if I tried to recover from the first or second repetition of the song, felling of sadness got deeper and deeper. I started to think of my children, of how I miss being with them, I looked back at our happy times together, I cried for not having them in my arms, I cried for allowing them to stay with their father, I cried for several or too many reasons, I could not find the right answer.
I thought of my father and my mother, how I lied to him about my life, about the stories I made up just to keep them calm. I was avoiding their curse, yes. I am very afraid of my parents’ curse. I cried and cried, asking or rather begging God, that one day, I would have the proper courage to speak the truth to my parents. I told myself that if ever I will speak to my father, he might have a heart attack and it made me more afraid. The same feeling of lowest and deepest lonely moment came to me, as I shifted my thoughts from my children to my parents..it got even deeper..yet and again, unexplained.
Then I thought of my life; how I made my choices, and that maybe they were the reasons why I was feeling deeply burdened. I thought of how life was before, and how hard was it at that moment. I went on and on, trying to find answers how to feel better. But stories and memories came like a domino, one story after another, it was endless, then again, I cried, terribly, I cried. I couldn’t breathe anymore, I had to pause. I looked outside my window, and imagined myself talking directly to God. It was a long pause of thought, but never a pause for my overflowing tears…
Another reflection came to me, and it was also a sad, sad reflection. It was my used-to-be relationship to my God. I remembered how close was I to God, back then, and how was I at that particular moment. I felt even worse; I realized the things I missed by not allowing myself to go back to church and be part of a fellowship – one thing about this kills me; it’s the people in the church that I didn’t like; maybe. I grew up looking at them and experiencing first hand the inequality inside the church itself, and it was a bad, really bad experience that I could not forgive. Or maybe the dream of my parents to see me as a church worker, that dream that I have not put myself into…the frustration I gave my father..I don’t know. Again, I cried, and cried, and tried to find the answer. nothing came…I just ended up crying.
Regrets. I know I have too much. But which among them led me to be broken? Have you ever felt being so grief-stricken, yet you don’t why or what is it that you are grieving about?
That night I was exchanging messages to my girls; telling them how much I miss them, and that I was playing our song for the”nth” time. My phone record showed 18 September 2013. 11:48 PM till 19 September 2013 3:13 AM. My daughters were with me, while I was experiencing the drama of loneliness. I had to stop and tell them to sleep, but as for me, my drama went on. I woke up the next morning with bulging eyes. Too much crying and never found the right reasons. Too many justifications and none of them satisfied my yearnings.
The next day I was just left with hanging questions in my head, and then the day after that. I could never forget the feeling.
On the third day; I got the news. My father died.
From that day (18 September 2013) up to now (15 March 2014), I still have not cried that broken. I was left with unanswered questions. Things that I already wrote in my earlier posts. Although my family tried to explained, the questions from the depth of my soul remained. Even though my mother encouraged me to move on, my foot won’t step fast…I had to put an effort extra, just to take baby steps, from the pain of losing my father.
Then I realized; that “three nights” before my father died, was a premonition. But who could tell? How could someone know? Who could tell me why? Was it God? or the Spirit? or my father’s soul? Who was it that came to me that night? Was I crying too loud that I could not hear the voice? Or I thought too much of myself that I had no time to think of others? Or I was given a clue but I couldn’t realize it, or I just simply chose to ignore it? I heard the voice but I did not listen? Was it really a premonition or just a random echo of emptiness?
Because now I have my reasons; I want to cry again. I want to shout out loud. I want to reach the summit and burst into tears. I want to scream so loud to the point of exhausting all my energies until I pass out. Maybe then I’d feel relieved.
Too many times my father encouraged me to write a book about my life, my speeches he wanted me to compile into a leadership book or module, or my experiences, or just simply launch my inventions, my poems or my essays. He knew its been piling up, and I could not stop. The worst is that, I give my writings away, I give my ideas for free. He would always remind me to keep my originals, my scribbles, and that one day I would be paid credit or honor. I am my father’s greatest challenge; he was mine.
I never did any of his advises until last month.
The sad part is that he will never enjoy the chance to proof read, applause or criticize my work. He is not around anymore to share with me his wisdom and thoughts. And the worst is; it might be that in my succeeding writings, he will often be mentioned.
I know, I sincerely know, that the ingenuity in me, the essay & declamation medalist in me, the poet in me, the public speaker in me, the politician in me, the evangelist in me, the judge in me and the wisdom in me; is all my father’s. He was taken from me physically, but his spirit is bursting from within me.
I am my father’s dream.
Maybe the night of 18 September, his spirit was already searching for another link to stay alive…
And three days before he died, he knocked my heart out, he crushed my spirit, he wanted me to realize my old life, and after that, he gave me his.