do what makes you happy

...that was what both my father and my beloved Uncle Andrew told me to do -- always.

don't worry about everything, just do what makes you happy. they would say, and always asking me if i'm happy with work or if anyone was mean to me and all that extra care that i know went extra mile without me knowing to make sure that i wasn't harmed outside. i knew, both big guys pulled a string or two but i'd still got myself into trouble unnoticed. typical. 

yesterday at the funeral i thought my heart would fall out from the heartache and all the crying. probably not even realising what his death could bring me so much sadness. i thought i could hold up better after what we recently been through but i started bawling barely halfway into the memorial mass and not even into the funeral procession. it was heartbreaking, and nothing will ever prepare a person for anybody's funeral at all. nothing. 

i am truly blessed to have a very loving father, to the point of no returns, and also an uncle who practically loved me from the moment i'm conceived up my very being...a little girl to them no matter how old i get.

i am every bit as lucky a woman who could have a loving and ridiculously awesome man as the father to her children, just like these two god-sent men to me. amen.

with utmost respect and forever love, goodbye.

too much for close comfort

they say great men die early. i'm guessing they are being correct at that. both my grandfathers, and my father passed on rather early in their lives. my father being the youngest and most recent to leave in that bunch of loved ones. 

now the thing about talking about death isn't as smooth as announcing a beautiful birth, no matter how peacefully one died. and apparently knowing that he has been ill for some time does not prepare you better to accept his death either.  that, i know, learning about the passing of a deeply loved uncle and father figure just today.

these messed up feelings inside, it doent help that i was still getting texts from him the previous weeks and i have just recently visited him at home personally. accepting that he is gone for good is the kind of awful truth that is not just a goodbye from the gates when he leaves the house from his almost nightly coffee stays with the folks, or when he leaves for long vacations and will be back to talk about it bearing gifts. it is the same feeling of disbelief, still having a bit of hope that he would come over again to the house calling me to open the gates for him just like expecting my father to come home one day from his work-related outstations -- after my father passed. that feeling, like it is a big joke that both my real life supermen are gone. that sort of crazy, is crazy.

i miss you, Papa. 

Uncle Andrew, you have been like another father for me for ever. i have never thought of a day you will be gone, just like Papa. ever!

please rest in peace. i love you both so much it hurts.