One Minus ER... 12 Hours Before Zero Hour
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My last days with dad.
January noon. I still haven't gotten over the accident that happened to my mom on the eve of my birthday a month before. Dad wasn't around, he wasn't even aware that we rushed mom to the hospital that night.
He dropped by the house one evening, and since bitter ako sa kanya noon, I instructed the maids to tell my dad that I'm sleeping. But he insisted on seeing me. He knocked on my door while I was pretending to sleep. Wala rin ako nagawa, ayaw niya umalis eh. So I got up, opened the door to see him. But he felt my aloofness. I don't even want to have an eye contact as he tried talking to me.
The whole encounter was so cold, I could feel the walls freezing around us. He tried, in vain to open up a conversation. But I just put them down with my cold replies. My mom tried her best to be accomodating, my sister on the other hand was very warm.
Realizing that its useless to reach out to me. He decided to leave. I never kissed him like I used to do. I think I never even said goodbye. Pero you know what, the real reason why I can't look directly at his eyes is because somehow...
Deep in my heart.
I know that it would be the last time I would see him alive.
Remembering that moment once again, it makes me regret my bitter decision to be so cruel to him now that the hate has already passed. Fortunately, weeks before he died, we had a cordial text conversation. He was asking if I'm interested to have a new scooter which I politely declined to the near-accidents I had when I was still a careless teenager. Back then, I ride a bike without any licence nor a plate number nor even a helmet.
Pero I know, it wasn't really enough to make up for the cold treatment I gave him the last time he stepped inside his own house.
So here I am recounting the story once again and letting the pain and the loss consume me on the eve of his passing.
---
My last days with dad.
January noon. I still haven't gotten over the accident that happened to my mom on the eve of my birthday a month before. Dad wasn't around, he wasn't even aware that we rushed mom to the hospital that night.
He dropped by the house one evening, and since bitter ako sa kanya noon, I instructed the maids to tell my dad that I'm sleeping. But he insisted on seeing me. He knocked on my door while I was pretending to sleep. Wala rin ako nagawa, ayaw niya umalis eh. So I got up, opened the door to see him. But he felt my aloofness. I don't even want to have an eye contact as he tried talking to me.
The whole encounter was so cold, I could feel the walls freezing around us. He tried, in vain to open up a conversation. But I just put them down with my cold replies. My mom tried her best to be accomodating, my sister on the other hand was very warm.
Realizing that its useless to reach out to me. He decided to leave. I never kissed him like I used to do. I think I never even said goodbye. Pero you know what, the real reason why I can't look directly at his eyes is because somehow...
Deep in my heart.
I know that it would be the last time I would see him alive.
Remembering that moment once again, it makes me regret my bitter decision to be so cruel to him now that the hate has already passed. Fortunately, weeks before he died, we had a cordial text conversation. He was asking if I'm interested to have a new scooter which I politely declined to the near-accidents I had when I was still a careless teenager. Back then, I ride a bike without any licence nor a plate number nor even a helmet.
Pero I know, it wasn't really enough to make up for the cold treatment I gave him the last time he stepped inside his own house.
So here I am recounting the story once again and letting the pain and the loss consume me on the eve of his passing.
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