The Death of My Father

Play Dance With My Father by Celine Dion while reading this for added feels.

We can only have one father in this world and I want mine back.

There are 7 of us in the family- my father, my mother, my 2 sisters, my 2 brothers, and me being the youngest.

We weren't born with a silver spoon. My parents did not come from wealthy families. My mother was only a High School graduate. Although my father was able to finish his college degree, he wasn't able to land a white-collar job. He doesn't have a permanent job. But he knows a lot of works to do to provide for the needs of his family. He was competent.

He is a farmer. Sometimes, he is also a construction worker. When he has enough time, he would go to the mountain that his parents left to look for stuff that he could sell to have money in his wallet. When I was still young, he used to work as a janitor in the school we used to go to. Then, he became a security guard in a department store in the city. He jumped from one job to another, but after realizing that his basic salary won't provide the things our family needs, he dropped a resignation letter and settled as a farmer.

Being the last child to be born, I wasn't able to witness how my father was to my other siblings during their younger days. However, my memory might not be that vivid, but I remember how he was to me and to the five of us, six actually.

When I was still a child, I remember how my father would work hard just to acquire the things I and my siblings need in school. Every time we excel in class, he would be so proud and share the news with his friends, colleagues, and siblings. He was happy every time we achieve something. During graduation and recognition day, he would be there cheering for us whenever our names are called to go up the school's stage to receive our medals and ribbons.

My father would buy us gifts and toys as an appreciation and reward for our efforts in school and in our education. It might not be as grand as what other parents buy for their kids, but the things he bought for us mean a lot.

As I grew up, I witnessed how hard life was for him. Seeing his other siblings getting a better and more comfortable life while he feels like he is still stuck from where he was decades ago breaks his heart and maybe his ego too. He is trying, I know for sure, to make our life better and to provide a more comfortable lifestyle. But he feels like none of his efforts are paying off.

Then, one by one, my siblings started to step foot into their college lives. I was still in High School when my brothers and sisters began to move out and live in a boarding house near their university. I was left in the house with my parents. I saw how they shed tears every week trying to figure out where they are going to get money for the allowances of my siblings. They had to apply for loans from the banks and even to loansharks just for them to have money to send to them.

Some couple of years later, my siblings already got their degrees and landed their dream jobs.

While they are enjoying the fruit of their efforts in getting to where they are now, my parents, especially my father, are still struggling to figure out how to pay the debts they acquired just to send them to college. My parents never asked for any financial support from my siblings because they knew it was a part of their responsibility to give them proper education.

My siblings started to buy their dream house and car, invested their money in properties, traveled inside the Philippines, visited a lot of countries, had some vices, living their best lives.

I began to hate them when they overlooked the fact that they wouldn't be able to go anywhere if not for my parents. It felt like they were untouchable.

Then my father got sick. He was getting older but he was still working so hard to pay their debts. For someone who was already in his 60s, he was supposed to be just staying at home, but he wasn't. He was working tirelessly.

One afternoon, I received a phone call from our neighbor that my father suffered from a stroke. I went home as fast as I can, called the ambulance, brought him to the hospital, but the doctor declared he was already dead on arrival.

I felt the world's weight behind my back as I hear those words. At that moment, a cold breeze embraced me as if saying, "It's okay. Everything will be alright."

One by one, I called my siblings to tell them the sad news.

When they came home, they even had the audacity to fight over who's going to shoulder the expenses for his funeral.

Author's note:

I don't know if this story makes some sense or if you were able to grasp the lesson I want to impart but I hope you did. 😹

Never take your parents for granted, be grateful for all their sacrifices, show them you appreciate their efforts, give back and love them while they're here. Life is too short. We'll all die. So cherish every moment with your loved ones.

I was supposed to publish this last Father's Day but I was short of time to finish the story and I had some important matters to attend to.

Still, Happy Father's Day. 💙