Two years ago today, we found out he was sick. I was already mentally preparing myself for losing him eventually. I was mentally preparing myself that his 77th would be his last birthday with us. I thought I was prepared when he actually said goodbye, but I realized nobody's really ready or prepared for anything until it happens. And little did I know that the big event of losing him is not the hardest part, seeing him for the last time is not the hardest part. The hardest part was after all of it. When we all felt the impact of his absence.


As a kid, I've always thought he'd live to a hundred. He was strong. To me, he could do anything. He would've been 79 today. There are days I still think I can visit him and we can talk like we used to. I used to talk to him about everything. There are also days I think we can still eat home-made fried chicken and watch tv. It's not just fried chicken though. He was a great cook, and me and my cousins always have the best time when we're coming over for lunch. There are days I think I can still hear him sing in the kitchen or in the store or anywhere, and then I would sing along even when I don't know the song. He used to teach me songs, and we would sing them together. There are days I think I can still see him watch random boxing matches during afternoons. And then I'd ask him who's fighting (even when I'm not really interested) but he was, and I liked that bond we had. I can go on and on about what we used to do together, but I might never stop. These may all seem like little things to you, but it really is the littlest things that leave the biggest impacts. It's not about the day of his funeral, it's about coming home after and realizing he really is not there anymore. It's the things we don't expect to feel that catch us off guard and give us such a hard time trying to grasp. There are days I still think he's here. And I know there will always be those days.


There was never a day I don't miss him though. And today is one of those days that I miss him really, really bad. It's hard to miss someone when distance prohibits you from seeing them, like when someone's abroad or in the province. It's harder to miss someone when your relationship stops you from talking, like an ex boyfriend or an ex girlfriend or a friend turned enemy. But the hardest type of missing someone is when there is absolutely no way for you to see them again or talk to them again. The hardest type of missing someone is when you only have memories to cherish, and knowing that you can't build new ones. But then, that's also the best type of missing someone... having so much memories and not regretting the moments you could've spent with them, because you made the most out of every moment you had.





I miss you everyday, Tatay. And I love you, always.