Posted April 3, 2011on:
At family gatherings, at community events, at his home, at his funeral, I kept on expecting him to show up. With each balding forehead that bobs up and down in a black suit, I kept on thinking that it was him. He’s that much man of the crowd. He’s that much of a public figure, at least as far as this community is concerned.
he’s not into fanfares and ceremonies. He’s not big on receiving sacraments or blessings. His wake is filled with flowers of condolences, so much so that his own grand son, severely allergic to such things, was kept outside for the most part. The thing is, even if he’s not into those things, he’d probably just throw his hands up in the air and say “whatever!” and goes on minding his own business if he were still around to react.
He was probably laughing at the sight of his nieces, nephews, and grand children huddling outside of the funeral parlor, inhaling chicken mcnuggets and french friends in record time while the procession of mourners continued to stream by his coffin inside. He was probably in there too, solemn and sympathetic to all those who felt left behind as they viewed his lifeless body in the casket.
I have seen his face in all of those occasions, when he laughed and when he was serious. When he was carefree and when he was gentle. He was the sum of all those expressions to us, the younger generations who knew him not through his tireless work, but through his presence at all family gatherings.
I feel like dressing May in her cotton-candy-pink dress and let her run loose among the sea of black mourners tomorrow. Just like how he used to laugh at my other antics, he’d probably like the sight of this one too. A flower for him that wouldn’t give an allergic reaction to his grandson.