I was checking roaming subscriptions while having coffee because I was informed that I need to be abroad for several days by the end of the month. It was always pointed out by you that, that’s just how I am–reading everything I can first and getting answers through some help tips on the internet even when I know calling my service provider that I need roaming services from this date to that date is far much easier. And then you’d say, “Don’t be so shy talking to people.”
Papa, I’m happy to report that I’m not that shy anymore.
I always remember your voice asking me questions. I don’t want to forget how it sounds either. But sometimes I wish I could hear you again; even from a stranger who sounds a bit like you just to remind me more. Because there were times it fleets, and I don’t want those memories to slip away. Then I can hear you in my head again, you’d say, “You always remember things,” or sometimes when things get to be too difficult and hurtful for me, you’d say “Forget about them.”
Yes, Pa, I always remember things, and I can’t forget about them.
During a discussion in our technical working group for a project, I was able to share some certifications or professional certifications I had gained and experienced before. It led me to memory in 2015 when I got my Media Literacy certification from an international educational institution and how I told you about it. Funny it was, I told you about what I have learned to become media literate, and you, with a grin, told me that “maybe you should teach me how to use Facebook now.”
Papa, I wish there was Facebook in heaven.
Writing the above paragraphs, I had to pause every ten minutes or so because I kept weeping. I was convincing myself that maybe I was crying because I was just tired, and I knew how the next week and the week after would be more arduous and demanding for me. But I resigned that fact, I was weeping not because I was exhausted, but because this loss, seven months after, felt like a loss just a day past.
I whimpered when I finished my dissertation because finally my doctorate was done, and dog days were over. I wailed when I was to submit my final manuscript and had to write the dedication page. In my master’s thesis, I told you I dedicate it to you, and you said, “Thank you.” I guess, that’s where you always belong—on my dedication page—because it seems always achievable whenever I dedicate what I do to you.
You taught me the value of hard work and to not give up. While there is some sense in always fighting and fighting fair, you also taught me how to “forget about them” and how in the face of adversity, to tell myself initially that “okay lang ‘yan,” and later sob and be reminded that I have emotions too no matter how strong I can be because “I always remember things.”
A lot of people think that losing someone you love can make a special occasion so difficult. It is true. But not all would dare say that the every day and the most mundane things could be harder and bring you back to yesterday’s pain. Maybe it was just roaming services for them, but for me, it meant a lot more than just subscribing to it whenever I was away. Aside from I could be reachable by people in the office or in my enterprise, or my friends, that roaming service was the reason why I could text or call you whenever I was abroad.
Facebook was a lost cause for you, as we did not power through learning to use the platform when you were still alive. Because you said so yourself, “It’s too complicated, text nalang kita.” And sure, of course, I always waited for your texts, and even more so, your replies.
Even if there is Facebook in heaven, it’s sad that I still won’t be able to reach out to you. I wish my roaming services could text and call you then. But more importantly, I wish my prayers could lead you to the most beautiful places, just like how your prayers did for me. I miss you every time, Papa. To you, I dedicate every page.
P.S.
Luis A. Lim, my grandfather or Papa to me, died last July 8, 2023. He funded my schooling from kindergarten to college, honed me, and disciplined me to be the person I am today. Our favorite hobbies to do together were watching news and documentaries and talking about the economy and politics na kung mag-usap kami eh akala mo parte kami ng gabinete.
After he died, I did not watch the news anymore, I just read them. The news on TV (or any digital streaming outlet) reminds me so much of his demise. Seven months after his passing, a lot has changed but never the pain I felt when I lost him. Maybe I wrote this because that said pain demands to be felt and I like to feel it, because as painful as it may be, it reminds me so much of the good times we spent together.
Papa is the first person who made me feel I’m likable as a human being even as a painfully shy and always misunderstood kid. He taught me the necessary principles to have to get on this life. Looking back, I’m glad I have listened, because life turns out better for me (I guess). Albeit it’s imperfect and difficult at times, I’m blessed to have witnessed good things and become a good force of nature even in my own little way. That’s how Papa was for me.
Shainne Hostalero 