Day 909: 5 Minute Freewrite: Thursday - Prompt: bitter pill.
Saturday, August 18, 2001, 2:30 P.M.
I played "Butterfly Kisses by Bob Carlisle" on my brother's CD player. Over and over again. I wanted to savour each word, each line of the song. While I was trying to memorise the lyrics, I thought of my Pápa. I told myself that wherever I would get married, Pápa had to be there to walk me down the aisle.
It's funny I don't have a boyfriend, yet. But there I was in the living room, already envisioning my dream wedding, whilst playing that song. But in my dream, it was not my future husband that I was thinking of. It was my father. I pictured him looking so dazzling in his elegant suit... he was crying though. Somehow I knew what he was feeling. I could see the worried look on his face, like he was hesitant to give me away to the man that I chose to love. I held his hand and looked at his eyes, saying reassuringly, "Pápa, don't worry I will always be your little girl. I will not be gone forever. I will always be here for you."
I sang the song repeatedly. It touched my heart, my inner soul.
(The five minute ended here... but I want to continue so I can use the daily prompt.)
Sunday, August 19, 2001, 5:15 P.M.
We had a surprise visitor. It was my Auntie Connie, my mother's cousin. I was so thrilled to see her. I hugged and kissed her and said, "It's so good to see you." I had not seen her for over a year. She hardly ever visits, so this was indeed a good surprise. Or so I thought.
Auntie Connie looked confused asking us, "Haven't you heard? Your Pápa is gone." I asked, "What do you mean he's gone? Has he left for Saudi Arabia without saying goodbye?" (My brother, my sister and I were living with our mother, and our two younger brothers, with Pápa.)
She said, "Don't you watch the news? It's all over the news. Your Pápa was among the casualties of the Manor Hotel fire tragedy in Quezon City that happened yesterday early morning. He died and we need to go to the morgues to look for his body and identify him."
My aunt came to deliver the bad news that my dear Pápa died tragically. How could I ever accept that? No, they must be wrong. Pápa had plans to go to Saudi Arabia to earn more money so that I could finish my studies. He promised me that. I hurriedly changed clothes and left with my aunt, my brother, my sister and my mother. We went to the morgue, and there was a cadaver bag. In that horrid huge black bag, I saw the lifeless body of my father. It was a bitter pill to swallow - the confirmation that Pápa is now gone forever. I will never have the father-daughter dance that I have always dreamed of.
All photos are my own unless otherwise stated.
Touching to read this @evlachsblog. In this "small world" of ours today, I will share with you I also lost my father, in a somewhat related manner. In a wildfire, years ago, on his beloved farm. Two other men lost their lives that evening trying to help him ...
I will never forget driving through the night from a neighboring state, upon hearing the news, even though I knew very little of the details. I just knew he had been airlifted in a "life flight" by helicopter, to the only hospital in that region capable of trying to help him. He passed away, before either I or my oldest son could see him. We both bear his name ...
At least in my case, he had lived a full life and his children were all out in the world, with families of their own.
You write "from the heart" very well!