In Memoriam, Part 3

Absence and silence. It's been at least six months now. I stare at the obituary page still in disbelief. He is truly gone and becoming ever more distant in living memory. No "visits" between late February and May. Life's daily unfolding is a distraction from the grief and sorrow. Memories, some distant and some recent, do come on rare occasions however. This particular distant memory occurs in the early '70's in the Quezon City house during a weekday morning getting ready for school. Champorado or chocolate rice pudding was the usual breakfast meal. I distinctly remember the transistor radio blaring "Colonel Bogey" followed by some radio commentary. Meanwhile Dad would be outside performing morning calisthenics.

Fast forward several years into the late '80's, around age twenty-two or so. It would've been a warm and humid late, late summer afternoon in New Orleans. I'd be coming home from one of my part-time jobs with the car stereo in the VW Super Beetle blaring Def Leppard's Hysteria album. Turning down the volume as I neared the corner, I'd see Mr. McKenna, our next door neighbor, walking slowly to his front door after a hard day at the office. After turning the corner, I would have the radio volume turned down to a whisper as I then hear the streaming, splattering garden sprinkler fanning the front lawn in broad strokes. Dad, meanwhile, would be in front of the garage setting aside the yard tools and cleaning the mower after a hot afternoon toiling in the sun making sure the manicured lawn looks pristine as ever. I'd feel guilty sometimes for not helping him out, but this was the late '80's when Dad was in his middle sixties, still fairly robust in body, strength, and spirit, and had an enduring passion for hard work. Rest assured, if I was at home when it was grass cutting day, guess who'd be trying to start that Briggs and Stratton four cycle engine that day.

A day in the life, such was normalcy back then. Two isolated events in time that were pulled from my memory banks quite inadvertently. The two photographs above were taken in the late '80's and serve as a typical setting during a hot summer afternoon. Dad, as usual, would be working in the yard.

I mentioned above that there were no "visits" between late February and the beginning of May. Last Saturday night, however, gave cause for me to question whether or not the sensation I had during a dream was purely the result of a nervous condition or another "visit". I don't remember the details of the dream this time. All I remember was possibly being in a REM state and dreaming about missing Dad. I remember saying "I miss you Dad" in my dream. Whether or not I actually said it out loud is not clear. What I distinctly remember, however, was a paralyzing and electrifying sensation from my head to my lower extremities as I was dreaming. I've had sensations like this in the past even when Dad was still alive. I couldn't attribute it to anything as I don't remember even dreaming during those past episodes. This time however, I was missing Dad so deeply that I welcomed this sensation and wishfully thought that it was Dad hugging me. Kind of spooky, I realize, and perhaps, more than likely, it was merely a nervous condition. As the days, months, and years pass, however, every waking moment I've had with Dad in this world will be remembered. A little reassurance every now and then goes a long way.