It has been 8 months, I have shed a tear or two everytime I remember the loss of my dad. Broken, that’s how I would describe this state. Like losing a part of one’s self, surely never to be whole again.


It was in 2008 that my dad had a motorcycle accident. He was supposed to bring a gift I sent to a friend which I originally asked my brother to do for me. Turned out that the neighbor is a good friend of his. He was called and they had some drinks, my dad is a heavy drinker I must say…stretching far back in his days as a seaman. On the way home,  perhaps due to alcohol, he hit a vehicle (good thing it was parked) and lay unconcious on the street. He was then rushed to the hospital and had his leg treated. For 2 weeks he stayed there, therapy and all, and I made myself believe that he’d be better, like every child’s fantasy, dads are supposed to be strong and that’s what I thought.

While in the hospital still, he was told by the nurse, and harshly too that he has to stay a bit more because of kidney problems. Dad seemed to have lost the strength after learning that. He refused all other kinds of treatment. One, he said he never wanted to bother the people around him, seeing a cousin’s husband being bedridden and the suffering of his cousin’s wife made him had that resolve. No one could change his mind.

I don’t know  why but when I learned of the situation, it didn’t sink in completely because there were other issues I was told about that I thought it was nothing serious. At some point I thought there was a possibility that my dad could die. But I didn’t think that would happen soon, a thinking I regretted later on because I didn’t do anything…anything to ease or help him through the pain.

It was one of those sleepless nights that I  just spend writing off some tasks. I waited until my eyes get droopy but sleep was evasive.

I then got a message from a niece,  she’s actually our neighbor back home but she’s based in the US now. She asked me if I heard of the news about my dad. I said yes, referring to the incident that happened earlier, that I learned from my older sister. Dad was sent to the hospital because of some complications but he refused to be admitted. He suddenly got better and requested to be sent home. It was all I know. I didn’t call home because I didn’t want to confront him of what he did that brought about the complications (what’s prohibited to you feels good when you do it fits this situation well). I still have mixed feelings until now for not having called though.

My niece said that his dad (my cousin) and my older brother are at the funeral home since 7 in the morning (it was 2 am here and 8 am at home when we were chatting), upon mention of “funeral home,” I just couldn’t get my head round it.  I understood what it meant but I refused to accept it as a reality.

It was in the wee hours of the morning but I didn’t mind the loud cries, I felt pain, regret mixed with tears and confusion…grief…a pang of guilt for not having talked to my dad more often.

Messages came pouring in and though there were some who have different views than mine I appreciated them. I was thankful that I’ve learned what the bible says about death, at first I couldn’t relate to death well. It was only now, after feeling such inconsolable grief that I realized that the sting is truly painful. I grew up believing a lot of teachings about death not based in bible truth…I bet you heard most of them.

Some have told me that it’s for the best, that my dad is in a better place, not suffering and watching over me.  There are those who believe that the dead becomes angels…I refuse to accept these lies to comfort the grief of being left behind…Somebody thought of it and someone believed it…somebody spread it to appear like it’s the truth.These are beliefs that also gives me a broken feeling.

The God I know is not selfish. He wouldn’t take the life of a person knowing that those left behind would be in pain. What is the need for resurrection if the dead continue living somewhere? God has enough army of angels so he doesn’t really need new ones.

Ecclesiastes 9:5-6 “For the living are conscious that they will die; but as for the dead, they are conscious of nothing at all, neither do they anymore have wages, because the remembrance of them has been forgotten. Also, their love and their hate and their jealousy have already perished, and they have no portion anymore to time indefinite in anything that has to be done under the sun.”

When Lazarus died, Jesus said to his followers that Lazarus is “sleeping.” (John 11:11-14) Though he meant Lazarus died, he used the term sleeping to illustrate that the dead could be awakened, as though unconscious…Jesus called and Lazarus came back to life. If Lazarus was in a better place why would he come back to an imperfect life? For four days, Lazarus lay down on his tomb unconscious, not knowing that he has died, not mentioning of a place where there is no suffering.

Just the same, I look forward to a promise:

John 5:28 “Do not marvel at this, because the hour is coming in which all those in the memorial tombs will hear his voice…”

My dad is asleep, I do not know how long will he keep still but I look forward to the day that the bible promised this, when “God is with mankind, and he will reside with them, and they will be his peoples. And God himself will be with them. And he will wipe out every tear from their eyes, and death will be no more, neither will mourning nor outcry nor pain be anymore. The former things have passed away.” (Revelation 21:3-4)