One On 1

It’ll be April 1 soon. It’ll be the first-year death anniversary of my dad. One year on April 1.

My mom has coped well with her loss. Yesterday she admitted that she had dreamed of my dad but only once. In her dream she was attending an induction of my dad at some church. She and my dad were seated when he got up for the entrance procession. My mom and the rest of the guests were then asked to sit near the back to make room for the inductees. When my dad came marching in, he saw that my mom wasn’t at her seat anymore. He stopped, searching for her. Mom was waving to him at the back, but he didn’t see her. My mom noticed that my dad was so much younger. “Ambata-bata niya, poging-pogi at tisoy na tisoy pa!” she said. I think it’s just the second time in my life that I heard my mom gush about how good-looking my dad was. I keep forgetting that my mom is like any other love-struck woman who ended up marrying the man she fell in love with. That she and my dad lasted for so many years can be attributed to a number of reasons: the institute of marriage, having children, social acceptance, shared interests, religiosity, etc. I guess it also helped that while my dad had an eye out for beautiful women, he never really strayed (or if he did, he sure kept it very quiet).

I don’t really miss him. I’m glad that he’s at rest already. And during his wake my officemate Lotta told us that my dad promised he’ll stay with us for a while just to make sure we’re fine. That’s why when an intruder entered our house a few months ago I’d like to think it was my dad’s ghost that frightened him away. I prefer to think he’s still watching us, guarding over us.

It’ll be April Fools soon. Maybe my dad will pull one last joke on us.