Sunday, July 8, 2012

Papa Jun

How do you mourn a person whose burial you are not able to go to?  Whose casket you did not see lowered into the ground?  Whose carefully orchestrated calm life-like face you did not see behind the glass?

How do you say goodbye to a grandfather who lived far away but for whom the distance and the time did not matter and embraced you like you grew up next door every time you came to visit?

I can't.  Because my brain is playing games with me.  In my head he's always just there, waiting till I visit him again.  Waiting till he gets the chance to debate with me over the current administration using facts that I could not argue my way around because they predate me.

Papa Jun, how do I say goodbye to you?

Somehow in my mind I expected you to live forever. 

Six years ago, I hugged you and kissed your hand before we were about to leave for Cebu.  I did not even give it a second thought.  You were the grandfather that was always there.  I expected you to be there when I came back.

But you're not anymore.

Had I known that that would have been the last time that I could put my arms around you, I would have made it count.

Now it's too late.  And I can't even say goodbye to you one last time.