A Day With My Daddy Rusty

    The other day I borrowed my colleague's book  "For One More Day" by Mitch Albom. It was timely indeed because that was the 10th day since my dad passed away last December 10, 2012. I've read it while it was "avail" at work or during the time that there were no calls arriving at the contact center where I am working. The story is about Chick and his mother's ghost, how it saved his life and how the chance of spending a day with each other has truly changed his life. I could relate to the book. And I admit I came to a lot of realization after finishing the last page of it. How I wish God would also give me a chance to be with my dad, even just for a day. I envy Chick. I know the plot of the book is some sort of an impossibility- it won't happen, and never will. But imagining myself in that situation where I am given by God a chance to truly experience being with my dad, just for a day, I feel a ripple of mixed emotions within me. Happiness, excitement, guilt and sadness. I am not a bad daughter- and I'm not the best. Yes we had some misunderstandings before but I was able to apologize right after.  And every time I say sorry he'd say "Just forget about it." Yes, I do often tell him I love him and he'd happily reply with an "I love you too" to me. Yes, I do kiss him and I know he  feels my love whenever I do so.

    So now you'd ask why am I dying to have that one day spent with him, just  for one day. It's because the things I showed how I love him was not ENOUGH. Not even close to that. I know there should be more. I  mean, I could have given him more. But I didn't. I could have spent more time with him when he was at the hospital, but I didn't. I did visit him twice a week, during my rest days, but again, I could have been  with  him more often. My rationale was that I needed to work part time at home so I could earn some extra  bucks and be able to help and contribute to his expensive medicines. I explained that to him and he  just said "Ok". I know how happy he is whenever I visit him with the Diabetamil, foods and stuff I bought from my earnings. I vowed to him that I will work hard so I could help the family in supporting his health needs to prolong his life. I was oh so focused  in earning so as to help him, ending up with rushed visits to the hospital of less than a couple of hours. Yes, I hugged him, kissed him, thanked him, said I love him, cracked a joke with him and then that's it- I hurriedly get back home to work for extra bucks. I am glad that I was able to say those important words, but what extremely pains me is the thought that I could have done more. I could have said more. I could have spent more time with him. A lot of people tell me that I'm fortunate enough to have at least been able to spend his dying times with me, but the pain I am carrying now is the fact that it wasn't enough. 

     No use crying over spilled milk. What's done has been done. What transpired on those days are things that I will treasure, coz those are the things that made my dad happy- even if they're not enough. The smile on his face whenever he sees me. The hope and excitement he has when I'd tell him "See you next weekend Papa." The appreciation on his face whenever I bring the goodies I bought for him, just for him. The jokes, the hugs, the kisses.... All I could think of is they were never enough. 

    So now if God will give me a chance- a day to spend with my dad, we'd probably spend it on a restaurant. We'll have our favorite food and drinks served in front of us. We'll talk about my childhood days, the times when I entered the university, the day I got married, those times I was abroad working, the moment I gave birth and how I gave him and my mom their first grandchild- my son. I'll enjoy the old jokes and ghost stories he's been telling us since we were kids. I'll savor the moment, concentrating on how he speaks, eats, drinks and walks. How his lips moves when he talks. How his eyes smile when he laughs. I'll touch his hand, kiss him and hug him. I'll forever remember the warmth of his embrace and his kiss, how his voice sounded when he says "I love you." If I'd get to record that using a phone or a camera then that's an icing on the cake!  I'll tell him how much I love him, the multiple times he saved me and how I owe him my life. Everything. I know at the end of that day he has to leave, and I need to get back to reality. But at least I am able to fill the things I've given him partially. I'll give him the deepest and warmest kiss on his left cheek, just like the one I gave him on that day in the mortuary where he lied peacefully on the day he came back to God's loving arms. He'll smile for sure when I give him that kiss while I'm saying "I love you Papa". I know. He's my dad. He is affectionate and he always asks his only daughter for a kiss ever since. He'll be the happiest for sure. 

     Wishful thinking. Imagination. Dreams. That's it. All I have now are memories and a hope that God will give me that chance...

I love you Pop and I miss you so much....