"DEAR DAD: SORRY I BROKE MY PROMISE AGAIN" in "THE WORDPLAY WARRIOR: Writing for The Unheard Voices"

Dear Dad,

Sorry, I think I’ve just broken my promise again. What promise? you might be wondering, if only you were still around. Well, this promise.

I’m sorry I broke my promise to myself not to write to you again. Why not? Well, you’re not here anymore. You’re long gone. I’m supposed to have gotten myself a closure already; I’ve got to move on. Your soul is resting, so why am I still doing this?

I guess certain events do trigger some memories. I admit that I tend to fail so much. Some people think it’s okay and that I’m only human. Some others would simply tell me to just snap out of it and stop being such a cry-baby. I don’t know which one is true; I sometimes choose to ignore both and see how far this goes.

By the way, my brother’s getting married soon, hopefully. Imagine that, your youngest and only son. Remember Tia? Yeah, that’s the one. She and her family had attended your funeral too. If you were still around to get to know her longer and better, you’d love her too. We all do.

Alright, I’ll stop with these pathetic ‘what-ifs’. Missing you doesn’t mean I have to keep doing this. There have got to be other ways, right? ‘Damsels-in-distress’ are as good as dead. I must never forget that.

The reason I mentioned Tia here was because her father had just passed away. He’d collapsed last Thursday and slipped into coma until his final breath last Monday evening. Of course, it was a shock to all of us.

We went to the funeral. I know that this isn’t about me, but I can’t help remembering you after that - you and how the whole thing had played out back then. We all know how this whole thing’s going to end for all mortals. It’s always the matter of ‘when’ and ‘how’.

I remember how my brother had always stayed strong, probably because he’s the only son in our family. I mean, look at him now, Dad. He’d helped to lay Tia’s dad to his final rest before he climbed back up and they buried Uncle Mugi for good. He’d done that to you too. I remember that.

I didn’t have to look down when I heard him recite the calling of prayers loudly, but I could tell from the shakiness in his voice. I bet I wasn’t the only one who’d known.

My brother’s not a kid anymore; he’s a man now. You can be proud of him now like I am. No worries, I think he knows what to do now as long as we all believe in him and keep that faith. He needs that support.

What about me? I’m okay. That’s all what everyone needs to know. Still, I’m sad too, though. I’m sad to think that Tia’s dad won’t be around for her wedding - just like you won’t be around for my brother’s and - perhaps - mine in the future. With whom? Hehe, good question.

Not much we can do here now, eh? Once again, this is another reminder:

Death always feels much closer and far more real when it happens to someone we know, someone we love. It doesn’t matter how quick or when that happens. It still hurts for those who are left behind. There is no difference.

Time is very, critically short. We are so often caught up and entangled in misunderstanding that we forget to just sit back, breathe, and listen carefully. Building a bridge is always possible. Love and strength should be our strength to get our messages across, in hope that we won’t be leaving this world with too many unanswered questions for those we leave behind.

Alright, let’s just hope that I won’t break this promise again, Dad. In the meantime, we’ll keep on praying for you, Uncle Mugi, and all the greatest dads to have ever walked this earth.

Last but never the least, aameen ya rabbal ‘aalameen…

Love,

R.