The reality that this day would come first struck me when I was first informed that my dad was sick, which was back in 4th year HS, in 2009-2010. Ever since that day I have been preparing for this moment: every single day I have been telling myself that this is about to happen, that I should prepare, that I should be strong yada yada yada. Heck I was even making a eulogy in my mind already, constantly editing it day by day, more quotes here, witty lines there, adding substracting events as operations, meds, life events go by. So for 8-9 years I have been preparing myself for this and yet I stand here before you today, back at square 1, with not even a semi-decently prepared eulogy at hand. Oh believe me I tried: that 9-year old eulogy and my efforts since the 28th, I have been writing, or trying to write, rereading my theo and philo notes. But somehow, words escape me. Words burn. Words sting. Somehow they are never enough. And well the truth is they will never be enough. A loss is a loss, always incomprehensibly heart-breaking.
Yes, all of this is still inarticulatable to me. It’ll take me a very long time, a whole of effort, and a whole lot of patience before I could even imagine myself to be comfortably talking about his passing away. It is a process in itself that I and my family will have to go through everyday. A choice that we have to make every single day.
Patience in itself comes from the greek word pati which means suffering. Yes to be patient is to suffer, but because of love, we have accepted that we are to undergo this kind of suffering. We become patient everyday out of this great love. This then opens us up for a greater love, an incomprehensibly cosmic kind of love beyond us all. Dahil ang totoo, ang lahat ay mula sa pagmamahal at tutungo sa higit pang pagmamahal. Caveat, this only happens if we consciously and effortfully choose to do so.
And so since I wasn’t able to come up with a nice eulogy, I will read a poem that I dedicate to my dad. I was able to make a poem for him last June, it’s somewhere in Facebook maybe some of you have read that one. But now, I read to you a poem from Walt Whitman back in 1865. He wrote it for Abe Lincoln who was so dear to him but since di naman kami close ni Lincoln and I resonate with how Walt feels for him, I will read this to you.
O Captain! My Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! My Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
Love you Pa. Thank you.
Always in deep admiration and much love,
Your bunso
Yes, all of this is still inarticulatable to me. It’ll take me a very long time, a whole of effort, and a whole lot of patience before I could even imagine myself to be comfortably talking about his passing away. It is a process in itself that I and my family will have to go through everyday. A choice that we have to make every single day.
Patience in itself comes from the greek word pati which means suffering. Yes to be patient is to suffer, but because of love, we have accepted that we are to undergo this kind of suffering. We become patient everyday out of this great love. This then opens us up for a greater love, an incomprehensibly cosmic kind of love beyond us all. Dahil ang totoo, ang lahat ay mula sa pagmamahal at tutungo sa higit pang pagmamahal. Caveat, this only happens if we consciously and effortfully choose to do so.
And so since I wasn’t able to come up with a nice eulogy, I will read a poem that I dedicate to my dad. I was able to make a poem for him last June, it’s somewhere in Facebook maybe some of you have read that one. But now, I read to you a poem from Walt Whitman back in 1865. He wrote it for Abe Lincoln who was so dear to him but since di naman kami close ni Lincoln and I resonate with how Walt feels for him, I will read this to you.
O Captain! My Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! My Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
Love you Pa. Thank you.
Always in deep admiration and much love,
Your bunso
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