Angels drive Taxis!
I was once running late for a job interview and my car wouldn’t start. I phoned around for a taxi but, due to the time of day, they were all busy on the school run and the soonest one could come was an hour. I remember going into a cold sweat and ran outside to try my car again in the vain hope it might work. As I attempted to start the engine again, I looked in my rear view mirror and saw a taxi pull up behind my car and a passenger get out. I sprung out of the car and ran up to the driver and asked if he was free. He told me he was not from the area but if I showed him where I wanted to go he’d take me. I asked where he was from, expecting him to say third cloud on the left or something equally cosmic, but he replied
___________________________________
Kindly contributed by Jade Samson - A story of loss and acceptance, her blog may be found below
http://www.pinayjade.com/
Papa , you owe me a dance.
Today is my father’s birthday. My father was a very gentle man who never raised his voice. He was quiet but friendly. When we have vegetables for lunch or dinner,I would always be the last person on the dining table. I must finish what's on my plate. I hated veggies especially carrots and sayote! I would come up with plans to get rid of them like giving it to the dog when nobody is looking but if Papa is around, I would beg him to finish my veggies for me or I will get in trouble with my mom. He never lets me down ;). That was our own little secret.
He was a tricycle driver(motorcycles with a sidecar (passenger-cabin) on a third wheel attached). I always loved riding his motorcycle. When I was young I would look forward to him coming home for lunch and hoped he had brought me a pianono bread (a sweet bread that we both liked) or a custard cake of which I would only eat the custard part and give him the rest. I know when my father is getting near to our house, I know very well the sound of his tricycle. Sometimes he let me ride with him on his motorcycle. Those were special moments for me. I loved driving around with him.
I remember those warm evenings when he would whistle telling me that he was calling the wind. I thought that was really cool. I wish I could do that too, I thought to myself. When I cannot sleep, he would take a piece of paper and brush it against my ears till my eyes get heavy and I doze off.
My parents separated when I was 15 years old. That was a dark moment in my life. I didn’t expect it to happen. My father was a gambling addict and I hated that fact about him.That caused a lot of quarrelling between my parents. I think he played hoping he would hit it big once and then he could give us a much better life. But of course that is rarely the case with gambling. In the beginning it was just a social past time, but than he experiences the euphoria of winning and that fueled further gambling. He tried to win back his losses as all gamblers do. He would lie to my mom about his losses and cover up to escape detection. Losses became unmanageable. Gamblers feel powerless, remorseful and desperate.
My mother worked abroad to support me and my brother. We were living with my grandmother. I didn’t have a warm contact anymore with my dad. I hated him for being in this situation. My father tried to change. He got a job as an ambulance driver. He said , "Soon we will buy a house of our own."
As I sit here filled with memories of my father. My mind goes back to the early morning of August the 6th 2002. My phone rang, I had a strange feeling, I picked up my phone. It was my father’s colleague from the hospital calling at around 2 am. He told me to hurry and get there as soon as I can. My father had a heart attack. I stood there for awhile, blank. I pinched my self, slapped myself to make sure it wasn’t just a bad dream. I was really scared. I woke up my brother, we quickly got dressed without talking and we started to walk. There was nobody to bring us to the hospital. I don't know how long we walked. We didn’t speak to each other. We were too busy with our own emotions.
When we finally reached the hospital my father already passed away. I couldn't’t believe it, we didn't make it in time. I was devastated. No, it can’t be, I can’t accept it, I can’t lose my father now! I am 19 years old and I am not ready. He was 40 years old, too young to die. I couldn't accept the thought that he was gone forever. He had heart attacks before but I didn't thought he would die...so soon. I guess children thinks that parents lives forever.
I had plans to see him just before he died to tell him about my future husband. I also wanted to tell him that I love him and had forgiven him. If only I had done that. He's not a perfect father but he is my father.
As I look at my father lying there in his coffin, I see a smile on his face. It is as if he's saying, "It's okay, I'm okay now."
Recovery from this was difficult. I was very angry, why did it happen to me? I wanted to dance with him on my wedding day since I didn't get that chance when I had my 18th birthday. It is so unfair!
I would cry for hours and hours...my husband has been a great support for as I was trying to accept my father’s death. I never told my mom or brother what I felt the night he died. It is too difficult.
The grieving process was long. I slowly accepted the reality of the situation. Thinking about him is now less painful. I still miss him everyday. I wish I had more time with him. I love him so much. I miss him a lot.I wish he was still around.
I love you Papa. I wish I told you how much I love you when you were still alive. I really miss you. I wish I could be with you again, even for just a short while. Happy happy birthday!
You still owe me a dance.
___________________________________