A while ago, I read about Roadkill_Spatula’s blog “Dad’s last writing”, and I can’t stop the tears from falling while reading that. It brought back memories of that last day I saw my Dad alive. The indescribable expression on his face when our gaze meet right after his stroke. I still find it hard until now to tell the story of that day to anyone, even to my friends. Our family don’t touch that subject that much either, there seems to be a silent understanding of that grief. After almost 3 years since Dad passed away, we are still recovering. I don’t know about my siblings, but I’m still grieving and my Mom is. I know that for sure. I can see it through my Mom’s eyes and I can feel how her heart long for Dad. I don’t see her cry, but I often find her teary-eyed while sitting silently in the living room. In moments like that, I feel so helpless and all I could do is hug her tight.
My mom and I are close, we’re like friends but when it comes to that topic, I can’t seem to be the friend she needs for I can’t find the words to tell her that will make her feel alright. Sometimes, I want to cry with her and tell her that I miss Dad too but I know it wouldn’t help. I just hug her tight to let her feel that I’m here for her. I have to be strong for her. I have to be strong for Mom. That’s why even though tears are flowing and I want to rush to her for comfort as I write this, I try to hide my pain in the confines of my room. And hope that when I leave this room, I’d also leave the traces of sadness in my eyes.