I visited my parents and Kuya Romy at their resting place in Fremont this afternoon.
As I walked through the cemetery, I noticed that many of the graves had fresh flowers. My parents’ grave did not.
My sister wasn’t able to visit over the Father’s Day weekend because they had driven to Buena Park for the wake of a kababayan and high school batchmate. We also had a small Father’s Day kiddie play day with the family on Sunday.
Before we left, my husband cut some roses from his garden.
At first, I thought there wouldn’t be enough for both my parents and Kuya Romy. I was worried Kuya Romy’s vase would be left empty, so I split the bouquet in two.
My father died in 1998, my mother in 2001, Kuya Ben 20 years ago, and Kuya Romy two years ago. Yet every single time I come here, the tears still fall. Every single time I think of them, I cry.
Like right now, tumutulo na naman ang luha ko.
When do we stop grieving? When do our tears stop falling?
Perhaps we never truly stop grieving those we deeply love. We simply learn to live with their absence while carrying their memory in our hearts.
Happy Father’s Day, ‘Pa.
Happy Father’s Day, Kuya Romy. Advance happy birthday.
Happy Father’s Day and Belated Happy Birthday, Kuya Ben.
Belated Happy Mother’s Day, ‘Ma.
Sending all of you my love and hugs today.
Please know that you are deeply loved, dearly missed, and forever remembered.
