Farewell to Baba
Our father passed away when I was 16. At 16, I had 7 other younger siblings- the youngest child was only 8 months at the time of Baba's demise.
Nothing will ever prepare you for the death of a loved one. Baba passed away at a fairly young age of 46- you'd think that he has his whole life before him but he had to go. I still miss him to this day. We were never particularly very close but I do love him with all my heart (and more). He is the kindest person you'll ever meet, and probably the best father in the world. In his own quiet way he loved us and cared for us all. Baba and Umi makes a formidable team- Umi's sternness keeps us in check while Baba was the buffer who calms us down.
Baba fought a losing battle with cancer- he had so much life in him, and never once gave up. To this day I wonder how life will be like with him around. I'm sure that he'll be happy entertaining his grandchildren. I suspect that he'll probably have a long talk with hubby before we can get married... and he'll probably be the one who marries us off.
To those people who think they do not matter, think again. One life leaves the world and a void exists where he/she once was.
I never got the chance to have an adult conversation with him- to ask him what his dreams were, what his childhood was like, who influences him the most in life (etc.). At 16 (and the ages before that) I was too preoccupied with my life & teenage angst to care much about my parents.
I was away in a boarding school throughout Baba's illness. I knew he had to undergo surgery & chemotheraphy (and the works) but I never could've guessed how the treatments changed him. I was asked to return about a week before his death. I broke down upon seeing him- he had become frail and gaunt as a result of his illness. He stroked my head while I continued crying- no words could come out. Before I left for school I asked for his forgiveness for my past deeds. I wish I had hugged him and told him how much I love him.
I returned home after he was buried- the teacher who broke the news to me struggled with it. I was surprised how calm I was to take the news. There were a lot of people in the house when I arrived. My younger siblings were just playing, I guess, unaware of what has happened. But calmness was the order of the day. None of the family members were bawling their eyes out. Everyone was silent in their grief- we were like crutches to each other, keeping ourselves from falling apart. Never once did I cry during the period when I was home.
The tears came in torrents one week later. I thought I might write Baba a farewell letter, giving myself a proper closure. I must've read this in the Readers' Digest or something, for me to have done it. Well anyway, it triggered the release of a great deal of raw emotions. My roommate had to comfort me in fear that I would be too shaken up. Long story short, that was that.
I suppose different people deals with grief differently. In my own way I had let Baba go. I hope he is happy wherever he is now. Baba, we miss you!
Nothing will ever prepare you for the death of a loved one. Baba passed away at a fairly young age of 46- you'd think that he has his whole life before him but he had to go. I still miss him to this day. We were never particularly very close but I do love him with all my heart (and more). He is the kindest person you'll ever meet, and probably the best father in the world. In his own quiet way he loved us and cared for us all. Baba and Umi makes a formidable team- Umi's sternness keeps us in check while Baba was the buffer who calms us down.
Baba fought a losing battle with cancer- he had so much life in him, and never once gave up. To this day I wonder how life will be like with him around. I'm sure that he'll be happy entertaining his grandchildren. I suspect that he'll probably have a long talk with hubby before we can get married... and he'll probably be the one who marries us off.
To those people who think they do not matter, think again. One life leaves the world and a void exists where he/she once was.
I never got the chance to have an adult conversation with him- to ask him what his dreams were, what his childhood was like, who influences him the most in life (etc.). At 16 (and the ages before that) I was too preoccupied with my life & teenage angst to care much about my parents.
I was away in a boarding school throughout Baba's illness. I knew he had to undergo surgery & chemotheraphy (and the works) but I never could've guessed how the treatments changed him. I was asked to return about a week before his death. I broke down upon seeing him- he had become frail and gaunt as a result of his illness. He stroked my head while I continued crying- no words could come out. Before I left for school I asked for his forgiveness for my past deeds. I wish I had hugged him and told him how much I love him.
I returned home after he was buried- the teacher who broke the news to me struggled with it. I was surprised how calm I was to take the news. There were a lot of people in the house when I arrived. My younger siblings were just playing, I guess, unaware of what has happened. But calmness was the order of the day. None of the family members were bawling their eyes out. Everyone was silent in their grief- we were like crutches to each other, keeping ourselves from falling apart. Never once did I cry during the period when I was home.
The tears came in torrents one week later. I thought I might write Baba a farewell letter, giving myself a proper closure. I must've read this in the Readers' Digest or something, for me to have done it. Well anyway, it triggered the release of a great deal of raw emotions. My roommate had to comfort me in fear that I would be too shaken up. Long story short, that was that.
I suppose different people deals with grief differently. In my own way I had let Baba go. I hope he is happy wherever he is now. Baba, we miss you!
posted by elya at 10:11 pm
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