Happy Father's Day

Yesterday was Father's Day.

I decided to pay a long-awaited visit to my dad's niche at the Mount Vernon Crematorium. I had meant to write a letter to him, for some grief closure on my part. It was a suggestion by two people I know from the counselling circle. Whether it was procrastination or pure laziness, I do not know, but I never got down to writing it.

Decided to just heck it and speak to that marble tablet with his faded picture on it. You know, some people write on a balloon and let it go; some people write a letter and burn it; some people hang bookmarks with words like "I love you mum" and stick it to the marble tablets. I didn't really know what to do with my letter after reading it out to him. So, yeah, I just spoke.

So it wasn't just a hard cold marble tablet after all. I really did feel like I was talking to my dad. I told him I did feel like he abandoned us when he died just like that. But I knew he couldn't help it. It wasn't his fault. I told him I wished I could have said a proper goodbye to him before he went. I told him there was one big regret I had about his dying. I thanked him for all the musical and linguistic genes he passed on to me. I told him I was living well now and happy. And I told him I really, really love him.

And I felt peace.

I'm sure I'll still cry sometimes because I'm such a weepie I sometimes hate myself for it. But I guess at least now I'll cry for the right reasons, and I'll know why I'm crying. And somehow, even though I cry, it doesn't seem to hurt so much anymore.

For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. Philippians 1:21 (NIV)