Death | Papa

July 21, 2008

If dogs could truly be ugly then I suppose Bisaya was an unsightly mutt. But he was loyal to my dad, and stayed with him after the last of us left his house. Bisaya got sick one day and never got better. So my dad took his ailing companion to the empty lot next door and fired a bullet to his head. But Bisaya didn’t die. Instead, he gave my father a confused and sorry look as if asking, “How could you do this to me?”

Papa couldn’t bear to hurt him a second time. Crying, he laid down his gun, sat next to Bisaya and cradled him. It was only after this gesture of tenderness that Bisaya understood, sighed in relief and closed his eyes for the last time.

All I really wanted was to give my father that same compassion. I wish that I was able to give him peace and that in my arms he genuinely felt my love, my gratitude and forgiveness.

If they say that even dogs go to heaven, then I sure do hope that my father has found his paradise. And from there...

I hope you know that “sorry” need not be spoken between us, that I thank you for everything that I am, and that even during those years of silence, I never stopped loving you.