My father did not become what he wanted to be. He has to sacrifice his studies for a sibling. He told me that he needed to do that because they were poor and it was needed to help. I did not doubt his stories a bit. Knowing my father, he was one clannish fellow ready to be of service to his relatives all the time. I had personally witnessed that while I was growing up. Relatives come and stay at home especially when my father received money from a sister abroad. I felt he was being taken advantage but I could not express it that time being young. He entertained every relative in our humble house even if there was only enough space and money for us.
But I digress. This is about a father’s love.
My father was not someone popular but he was in my heart. He used to bring me to relatives. We used to go to places. He used to buy Butter Ball candies for me where one day I swallowed one whole and I nearly choked to death without him knowing, while we were on a bus. We used to go to places I do not remember anymore.
My father was a loving husband to my mother. He used to cook savory dishes for us. He cooked better. He cleaned the house better. He discussed things better. He helped in our assignments better.
During the time I had my daughter already and after a year, he contracted Alzheimer’s disease. I was not aware that time and he was talking nuts one day when he visited me telling me stories I could not imagine. I remembered I got furious and talked hard on him not realizing what was happening. He just stared at me and left. Years passed and the condition got worse. He put slippers in his pocket. He left home and had my mom wondering where he went and he could not be stopped. Then one day he got inside the bathroom and stayed there all naked staring at endlessness like a helpless child.
He acted weird during the time he had Alzheimer’s. He was mad at everybody, from my mother to my sisters to my brother but he did not show anger to me when I visited.
When I arrived in the hospital when he fell into coma, I held his hand and whispered telling him, “Pa, I am here.” He gripped my hand and a tear fell from his eye. That was the last time he communicated to me. That was the last time I felt his love.