Project FEETrail [June 2012]: My shoes, Dad's shoes

June.

What seemed to be the wedding month turned out to be the final month of my father.

I wrote before that he died on a Tuesday and what it felt like prior to father's day. Sticking to my Project FEETrail for this year I just have to have to include this and commemorate the time that I have finally faced one of my greatest fears since I was a child. 

(L-R: Watching over my Dad during the first hour that he was in the resurrection chapel; My feet during one of the nights of the wake)

(L-R: Early morning of the 9th day since my Dad died;  During Father's day, wearing the last footwear that he purchased for himself last post-Christmas)

You know those things that people say about when someone is gone, it appears they are still here? It’s true.

I never felt being a Daddy’s girl when he was still alive, but I felt it when he was gone. (Or maybe I am just claiming it because my Dad probably thinks that I need better guidance compared to my sister).

But, consistently, my father seems to be the master of timing and with that it appears that it’s one of the many traits that I probably got from him. I cannot enumerate how many “right place at right time” moments that I’ve had since he was gone. From getting me convenient parking spaces easily to making me run into some people he know. It’s like he and God area working hand in hand in making sure to put the proper people when I am going to need them. When he was still in the hospital, a family friend told me that even if my Dad will go, he will provide. I think he does until now.

Last Monday, I was having coffee and desserts with my friend at a cafe when the song “Leader of the Band” played on the studio’s speakers and it went like this:

The leader of the band is tired
And his eyes are growing old
But his blood runs through my instrument
And his song is in my soul
My life has been a poor attempt
To imitate the man
I'm just a living legacy
To the leader of the band

My friend was telling me such a giddy love story and I concentrated hard on what she’s saying until tears just suddenly fell out of nowhere, I had to get a tissue. 

I remember listening to that song at the back of the car when my Dad was still alive and was still driving the car. I remember being a kid, enjoying the cool airconditioning at the back seat. Sundays are always Dad’s turn to hog the radio station. We always listen to Never on Sundays program and grew up listening to ABBA music. My sister even sang Chiquitita to him when he was still in ICU and  he shed a tear listening to her singing. I am almost tempted to request to the management to change the music but I do not want to do some further explaining so I just sat through it. It’s the missing part that sucks big time.

I know that we are going to adjust our small family traditions, Christmas and New Year will never be the same and Aprille and I have already split our Dad’s old daddy duties. Sometimes, I still can’t believe that I have already lost a father. I cannot believe that it was just that fast, 2 months and a few days. And he was still true to his word, because a family friend visited him in ICU and we were told that the week before he had a stroke and fell into a coma, Dad was telling him that if he is going to be ill, he will not be a burden to his family. But he granted our request to take care of him, at least for the last 25 days of his life. He forced me to see and watch him take his last breath even though he knows that I don’t want to, because he knows that this experience will strenghten my heart, just like how his heart fought back to live for 57 more days when the doctors have expected him only to last for only a week.

Yesterday, during my 15-minute break at the office, just out of a gut feel, I found my self driving to the nearby gas station to put some air to the spare tire from last week’s tire mishap. Suddenly out of nowhere, a family friend saw me driving and followed me to the gas station thinking I might need help and guided me through the whole process of putting the right amount of air into the spare tire. He told me that he had spoken to my father the last time he had the car checked and dad told him to wait for him because he will be back and they will go fishing together. He said that he was not expecting that my Dad would go to some place else and then gave me a little lecture that I should not just know how to drive but I should get to know and learn things about the car as well.  He then told me to be strong, not to worry and get his number in case I have car trouble again. I did and I thanked him for checking up on me before driving back to the office.

Time may heal all wounds, and through time I know that we will be able to adjust, but I was told by a friend who went through the same situation, that though time will help us adjust, one can never really get over the death of his/her father.