A Daughter's reflection
The memorial mass to remember my father who died a year ago was held yesterday afternoon. It was a beautiful service with a very touching message from the Prime Bishop as he remembered my father's legacy and the man that he was. Towards the end of his poignant talk he raised a framed photograph of my father showing a handsome profile with a calm smile at the same time exuding a lot energy. Thank you Bishop Malecdan.
With my two boys, my sister and her family, my brother, relatives and friends, it was a warm feeling having them there to share with us an important remembrance day in our family's life.
A year on, it is still very raw. I remember how people have come to share our sorrow, and share all the wonderful memories of courage, his love and passion for his work and ministry, his kindness to everyone he meets regardless of race, colour, religion or age and most importantly, his admirable calm in the midst of chaos and criticism. It was encapsulated so well by the Rev Rex Reyes during his homily a year ago. My father's death has opened my eyes to a lot of things, not just the sacrifices he has made, but his incredible humility and passive nature. Passive not in the submissive and cooperative sense of the word, but standing by what he believes is right and remaining firm and calm despite coming under fire. Despite being proven right, not a negative word is heard from him. I reflected further back as a child and a teenager - this humility I have seen all my life. I have never heard him say 'I have done this or achieved that' , he just did what he believed would help and was right at the time given any situation, it was just his work, it was just his life - whether it was years of living in a jungle in Sabah, helping the evacuees from Basilan or gaining theological education in England. I learned more about his achievements from others or from reading about his work much later on in life and what an admirable journey he has lived with my very supportive mother alongside him.
One suddenly begins to realize with great intensity, the enormity of the gap he leaves behind in my world.
It is quite easy to say one gets over the loss of a loved one and life moves on. Yesterday, after dinner following the mass at the Cathedral, my eldest son couldn't help but ask 'Why have you still shed so much tears?'. I said it was when the hymn 'Because He lives!' was sung. Everyday there is always something that would remind me of him - a cross on any wall, the colour violet, a book, the cathedral facing my office where I work, steamed vegetables, preserved strong chillis in vinegar with garlic, his sense of humour... and I told my son, the song just brought it all out the minute the hymn was sung. He lives. He has left this unique void that will never be filled; not just in my life but my mother, sister and brother's lives. He lives in that space he has left behind and will always be there. The gap he left is not some invisible space of emptyness, but a concrete well-carved space he has built within my life since I was a child as it is in my mother's heart as a husband and father to her kids.
The pain will always cut like a knife and this void will always remain a scar. But the wound will not be healed and the scar will never fade. No one who has had a special and unique relationship with a loved one can say that they will ever come to terms with a loved one's death or will never miss them. We rejoice and remember all the fun times and the goodness he leaves behind all the time. But we are human beings. When one has built such a strong relationship, love and friendship with someone, then they deserve to leave a wound and a scar behind.
It is a good kind of wound and a beautiful kind of scar.
In the midst of sadness yesterday, I managed to smile and look up knowing he is resting in peace and proud of those who love him and remember him, not in the way he wants us to remember him, but proud of what we have learned and gained from what he has left behind.
22 july 2014 CJDTA
With my two boys, my sister and her family, my brother, relatives and friends, it was a warm feeling having them there to share with us an important remembrance day in our family's life.
A year on, it is still very raw. I remember how people have come to share our sorrow, and share all the wonderful memories of courage, his love and passion for his work and ministry, his kindness to everyone he meets regardless of race, colour, religion or age and most importantly, his admirable calm in the midst of chaos and criticism. It was encapsulated so well by the Rev Rex Reyes during his homily a year ago. My father's death has opened my eyes to a lot of things, not just the sacrifices he has made, but his incredible humility and passive nature. Passive not in the submissive and cooperative sense of the word, but standing by what he believes is right and remaining firm and calm despite coming under fire. Despite being proven right, not a negative word is heard from him. I reflected further back as a child and a teenager - this humility I have seen all my life. I have never heard him say 'I have done this or achieved that' , he just did what he believed would help and was right at the time given any situation, it was just his work, it was just his life - whether it was years of living in a jungle in Sabah, helping the evacuees from Basilan or gaining theological education in England. I learned more about his achievements from others or from reading about his work much later on in life and what an admirable journey he has lived with my very supportive mother alongside him.
One suddenly begins to realize with great intensity, the enormity of the gap he leaves behind in my world.
It is quite easy to say one gets over the loss of a loved one and life moves on. Yesterday, after dinner following the mass at the Cathedral, my eldest son couldn't help but ask 'Why have you still shed so much tears?'. I said it was when the hymn 'Because He lives!' was sung. Everyday there is always something that would remind me of him - a cross on any wall, the colour violet, a book, the cathedral facing my office where I work, steamed vegetables, preserved strong chillis in vinegar with garlic, his sense of humour... and I told my son, the song just brought it all out the minute the hymn was sung. He lives. He has left this unique void that will never be filled; not just in my life but my mother, sister and brother's lives. He lives in that space he has left behind and will always be there. The gap he left is not some invisible space of emptyness, but a concrete well-carved space he has built within my life since I was a child as it is in my mother's heart as a husband and father to her kids.
The pain will always cut like a knife and this void will always remain a scar. But the wound will not be healed and the scar will never fade. No one who has had a special and unique relationship with a loved one can say that they will ever come to terms with a loved one's death or will never miss them. We rejoice and remember all the fun times and the goodness he leaves behind all the time. But we are human beings. When one has built such a strong relationship, love and friendship with someone, then they deserve to leave a wound and a scar behind.
It is a good kind of wound and a beautiful kind of scar.
In the midst of sadness yesterday, I managed to smile and look up knowing he is resting in peace and proud of those who love him and remember him, not in the way he wants us to remember him, but proud of what we have learned and gained from what he has left behind.
22 july 2014 CJDTA