Christmas used to be a very festive occasion for me. It’s my daddy’s birthday so it also served as the day when the family got together. Everyone in our street also got invited for lunch. Daddy’s a known cook and I just loved hearing our guests rave about his famed bakareta and hamonado.
As a child and up to my college years, Christmas was my favorite time of the year.
When I started working, I got to go home for Christmas only twice in seven years since my work in the service and travel industry required me to be on duty as the yuletide season happened to be one of our busiest.
Last year, I lost my dad two months before Christmas and when December 25 came, it was my worst Christmas to date. I was thankful I had my work to busy myself with but the moment I got home, I couldn’t help but feel so sad. I missed him so much. I missed greeting him a Happy Birthday. I missed hearing his laugh and his making lambing on what he wanted for his gift. I just missed him missing me.
This year was no better. Though my current work did not entail me working on holidays, I chose to not go home in our province because I still couldn’t bear being in the home I grew up in and not seeing my dad on what used to be his most special day.
I have long accepted that he’s gone and though there is no more pain from losing him, there is and will always be that pain from missing him.
Daddy, I miss you so much. Each day and especially at Christmas, we all miss you so much. And yesterday, as I lit a candle in your memory, I offered a prayer and thought of what I told a friend two days ago.
Me: You know, I’ve never been lucky in raffles but this year, I won a printer and some appliance in the events I attended. Daddy sure is looking after me.
And it made me remember this too:
“My father died many years ago, and yet when something special happens to me, I talk to him secretly not really knowing whether he hears, but it makes me feel better to half believe it.” – Natasha Josefowitz
But unlike Natasha Josefowitz, I do know and believe with all my heart that from up above, you are looking after us. This was what comforted me in those days of great sorrow and now, it’s something that takes away my sadness.
I know my future Christmases will always be tinged with sadness because you will not be here to share it with us but there’s a certain gladness in knowing that we now have an angel dad to cheer us on and lift us up.
Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday, Dad.