August 12th, 2018 at 10pm my father took his last breath on this Earth. The entire day our house was filled with family friends and relatives. My aunts and uncles were with us the whole entire day from dusk until dawn. It was an exhausting day as everyone had already cried their eyes out and barely slept. While sitting in the living room with my other siblings, I silently re-evaluate my relationship with my father. It was a rocky relationship. My dad’s words have always been the “law of the house” and there were plenty of times when I wished we had a friendlier relationship. Though I was not the best daughter, including my siblings as well, I sat there wishing how I could have been better. I thought of how during and after college, I drifted from my parents. The taste of being away from home and having no restrictions to what I do and when I come back home was addicting.
When he was still at the hospital, the only thing we look forward to was the doctor’s approval of him getting into the rehabilitation center and then coming home. We were hopeful that he would make a steady recovery even though the doctors had warned us of his very limited time on Earth. The one thing we all hope for was to hear his voice, but at last, he didn’t even have the strength to say anything. The first few days when he arrived home, he would say a few words making broken sentences and it took three of us to make out what he was trying to say. Afterward, he didn’t say much because his throat still hurt, and he didn’t have the energy.
There are days and nights when I go for a long drive to get things out of my mind and I think of how I can live up to my father’s name. When he was still alive I wasn’t afraid of faltering because no matter how hard or soft I fail, he was always there to catch me. Now, the only one that had always had my back is gone and I’m afraid. I’m afraid that if I set my goals too high I’ll fall so hard that I won’t be able to get up. I’ve always been a risk taker at everything I do, now I’m starting to think about consequences because the only person that would be able to help me, if I get into any problems that are out of my league, is gone.
From the day he was in the hospital up until his last day, I thought of all the words I wanted to say. Just six simple words, two sentences. I love you. I am sorry. At last, I could never do find the determination to say those words out loud to my father or on his deathbed. Four times I visited his grave, I just stand there and stare where he now lies. The words are still stuck at the back of my throat. There are times when I wished he was still alive, his body fighting against all odds. And when he fully recovers, my family and I can go on a trip. Everyone finally forgives one another, past mistakes, and move on. As I watched my father exhaled his last breath, my first time seeing the process of death, for the first time I wanted to stay home. I didn’t want the world pitying or sympathizing for me and my family.