Dearest Papa,
It's been two years since you passed away. All that I wanted to say to you have been bottled up for two years now. And the succeeding stories that I will have will just accumulate and I will never ever get the chance again, ever, to tell them to you. And I will never ever hear you again, your voice, your response, your advice. It saddens me greatly every time this comes to mind. Because for 34 years, I've always told you my stories, my thoughts, my achievements and failures. You've listened to them and I heard your responses. I won't ever get to do that again. Masakit. Hanggang ngayon. Tuwing naalala kita, bumabalik isipan ko sa mga panahong nabubuhay ka pa.
Thinking about you and recalling our memories together is painful for me because the memories that remain are the very good and very happy memories. And it pains me so much that I will never get to experience these again. They will be just... memories. Replaying in my mind. Over and over.
Nonetheless, I am forever grateful I was able to spend 34 years with you. I would NEVER exchange that for anything else. Thirty-four wonderful and happy years with you as my father. A very supportive, very caring, and very inspiring father. You and Mama will always be my role models. I am so thankful to have you both in my life. Wala nang makakatumbas pa sainyong dalawa. I always tell Mico that I'm so blessed and lucky to have intelligent and loving parents. I can only hope someday, my children will also see me how I see you and Mama.
I miss you so so much, Papa. The few days leading to your death, I replay in my mind what happened. And I will never forget that LAST phone call I had with you in the morning of 8 July 2020. "Unahin niyo na ako, mamaya na 'yang mga ginagagawa niyo.", you said, in a slurred manner. I'm so so sorry I wasn't there beside you as you took your final breath. Kuya and I arrived at the hospital you were already gone. I took photos of you and held you as if you were still alive. You were emaciated. Your bones were very prominent. You lost all your muscle and fat. I saw your body and thought that if it would be donated, medical students would have a field day studying your skeletal structure as it seemed like a very good specimen. Standing at 5'11", you have long femurs, tibia, and fibula. Your scapula and ribs looked great too. And so do your humerus, ulna, and radius. It's kinda weird I saw it like that, I'm sorry. But as a woman of science, I can't help but think about it. I'm sure you'll understand. You and I both love science. I'm sure you would've agreed too.
I miss you, Pa. I'm entering my PhD sophomore year this coming August. How time flies. I want to share with you all the trials and tribulations I'm experiencing because I know that you give great advice. You've given me so much the past years, and I always replay them in my mind when I encounter difficulties. Thank you for being that kind of parent. You've given us so much nuggets of wisdom that I think there's a nugget I can use for every situation. Though I wish I could've received more because they're really good.
I miss you, Pa. I wrote you a quick poem below. I hope you appreciate it. I remember you have this book of poems by your bed side table, the great poets like Emily Dickinson, e.e. cummings, John Keats, Ezra Pound, and your personal favourite, Robert Frost. This poem I wrote will never be at par with any of these greats, but I know you'll like. Because it came from your only daughter. :)
An anchor, to me you are
My guiding light in the darkness
Your voice, deep in the jungle I hear
A compass that points the way
You will always be, to me
A constant amid the variables
An outlier amid the limits
You to me are extraordinary
You are my Papa
The first man who loved me
Upon entering this world
And have always loved me
Until the very end
I love you and I miss you so much, Papa. I'll see you someday. Not too soon, I hope.
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