I can't believe no one will ask me about how much I love fried fish from now on.
I can't believe no one will take us to Pampanga on Holy Week anymore.
I can't believe when Mark and I get married his dad won't be there.
I can't believe our future kids won't have anyone to call Lolo.
I can't believe another father figure went just like that...without saying goodbye.
I can't believe I have not seen him in 2 years, and now I'm not gonna see him forever.
I can't believe tomorrow, when Tita wakes up, he won't be there. He will never be there again.
I can't believe he's never coming home to us.
Sometimes, when the moment catches me off-guard, these are the thoughts that bombard my mind.
And just like back when my dad died, I feel panicky. I feel like I'm in someone else's story or movie. I feel like it's a bad bad baaad dream. And I just need to wake up.
And then that moment turns into an awful 5 or 10 minutes. When I want to do nothing else but cry my heart out. When I feel lost for Mark, I feel lost for his mom, I feel lost for his brother...I feel lost for all of us.
An awful 5 or 10 minutes when I start questioning whether our plans are ever gonna push through; is Mark ever gonna recover?; Will everything change from now on?
But then just when those 5 or 10 minutes start to become unbearable, I feel his presence. I feel my dad's presence. I feel my Papang's presence.
And they remind me that life goes on for the living.
And that we who are left behind are strong enough to go on with our lives.
We will miss you, Daddy Ernie. Every single day.