1 month since dad left us...

It's just been over 1.5 month since dad left us, and 1 month since he was buried.

It felt like yesterday this all happened. Honestly, all the adrenaline just hits fast. Everything goes by in a blur. 

I attended my workplace anniversary party, with the blessings from my mom and brother. Originally it felt wrong to attend a large party. I had to look pretty, be happy, smile at everyone. I just wasn't in the mood especially after losing my dad. But both of them told me I should go. I had the support of all my colleagues and leadership team. I had worked so hard to secure the venue and get all the details sorted since the beginning of the year, that it would be a complete waste to not go. Not only was I attending as a complimentary gift from my director, but I would be wasting my spot and food if I did not show. Plus, mom and brother stated that if dad were still here, he would want me to go, and not be worried about him. 

I felt so much guilt. But I attended the party, and kept in the shadows. Although colleagues were surprised to see me, they did offer many hugs, many words of support and encouragement. Physically I was there. Mentally, I was not. In between, I still took calls from family regarding dad's funeral and obituary details, while also reviewing what I needed to say on stage as part of the host. Yeah, it was a lot. 

In the end, I survived the evening. I didn't dance as per tradition because, I wasn't in the mood. I just went straight up to the suite to take a breather, before helping to clear out the venue. 

Right after this, went straight back to dad's funeral planning. Finding old photos from the past. Compiling it for a slideshow. Mom stated no one would be watching, but I said trust me. People will. I cannot disappoint dad. I will ensure I get as many pictures as I can, and showcase how happy he was here - whether it be traveling, singing karaoke, taking a nap, eating food. You name it. 

I wasn't going to let some stupid hospitalization or doctor's words dictate his life. Nah, he deserved all the happiness. 

I dug out as many photos as I could, and put it together. I had also started my eulogy as soon as I could. It took about 2 weeks to put it together, as everyday I would write down something and edit it as the days went by. I wanted to make it impactful, meaningful. I wanted people to remember who my dad was. If they hadn't met him previously, I made sure to put in all the details pertaining to his unconditional love, his perseverance, and his support.

The day of the funeral was also the day of the visitation. We went early before the official hours started. This was also the first time we got to see dad since his passing - it was about 11 days. The room had a nice backdrop to the garden of the funeral home. It was beautiful.

Dad's casket was up front, and I can't tell you how fast I ran up to see him. When I finally saw him, I burst into tears. He looked peaceful. I cried. We all cried. I told him that we are finally here to see him, that I'm glad he's out of the damn hospital.

I touched his hand. It was super cold. It sent chills down my spine. The last time I held his hand, he was still warm. It made me really sad.

The service was beautiful. Pastor Joe gave a quick sermon. We sang a couple of worship songs. We had eulogies from my nieces, my brother and I. We had a good turnout for both visitation and the funeral. People also bought him so many flowers. He would've been so happy. 

The final goodbye...oh man, where do I even begin.

Although I have been to many funerals in my life, nothing compares it to your own family. Standing up front to shake everyone's hands, thanking them for their support, all the hugs, the crying. It was VERY emotional. 

When it came to the final moments before closing the casket, each of us were called to do a final goodbye. I requested that the F-14 that was on display with his picture be buried with him. I also wrote a 3 page letter for dad to read, so that went into his casket as well. Mom was the last to pay her respect. Once she stepped aside, that's when the casket cover was slowly closed.

I lost it. I cried, I couldn't help it. This was it and I didn't know how to control myself. This was the hardest thing I had to witness in my life.

The funeral staff led us to the burial site. All the guests had gathered around the tomb, while mom and I went to meet with the pallbearers waiting by the hearse. This was the final walk with dad, along with all my cousins, uncle and brother as pallbearers, while mom and I led them to the burial site.

Once all the guests laid their flowers on dad's casket, it was time for him to be lowered. I thought I could be brave for him, but no. I broke down and cried. I don't know which was the most challenging to see: watching the casket cover close, or watching the casket be lowered 6 feet under. To me, they're equally as heartbreaking. This is the first time watching my loved one be lowered, so it hit me really hard. 

I didn't get to watch them do the full burial as we had booked Mandarin buffet for our group. So we attended that, thanked everyone for coming and for their support. We ate, people mingled. Deep down inside, I just lost all appetite because of what I had to witness. I know dad wouldn't want me to starve so I felt like I had to shove food down my throat. But in that moment, I felt no hunger whatsoever. I ate for the sake of eating. It was also very tough considering dad loved to eat at Mandarin. This would be the first time eating without him.

Soon after, I drove my cousin to the airport to catch his flight back to the USA. And right after that, mom and I decided to go back to the grave site to see how dad was doing. When we got there, they had already put all the flowers on top of the site. It was nicely laid out. We took pictures of that moment. And then we cried. 

I couldn't believe this was it. It just felt so fast. It keeps replaying in my head over and over again. 

Right after the burial, I just didn't know how to function anymore. What was I going to do with my life now? Do I go back to work? Do I still take a few days off? I really had no feelings whatsoever. Mom suggested I go back to work, as it would help keep my mind busy. At least go back to a routine. 

I took one extra day off, then went back to work. Yeah, it was tough, but once I immersed myself into work, I was on a roll. I would be on a continuous roll until the end of the work day. It was finally time to head home.

The drive home was numbing. It didn't hit me until I got home, that dad wasn't going to be home anymore. Then I started to cry. Excuse me, I mean wail. Yeah, that first week was very depressing. It's still depressing to this day and I'm still learning how to navigate this journey. 

Since going back to work, I've realized that I feel ok when I'm not at the hospital site. But as soon as I step foot into the hospital, it didn't feel good. I just wanted to leave immediately. I haven't gone back up to the unit where my dad was, and I probably will never go back up there because it will probably trigger me. But at the off sites, I feel fine because that was where I was before all this happened. 

Driving home and being at home proved a way different perspective. Sometimes the drive home would trigger me, as dad had driven the Genesis quite a bit in the beginning when it arrived home. I remember he had driven it around while waiting for me during one of my hospital interviews. He would ask why the car's engine was getting so loud when he was trying to accelerate but it wouldn't go any faster. I had to remind him that he was in the manual mode, and not the automatic mode. Don't worry, the Genesis was not harmed. 

When that memory popped up while I drove home, it triggered me, and I really had to put myself together first. Had to keep telling myself to not cry otherwise if I do, I'd probably crash into someone. At least keep it together for now, until I got home. Once I got home, I can cry however much I want.

I talk to my dad everyday, as much as I can. I started off with once in the morning, and once in the evening before bedtime. I'd give him a good morning, let him know what I planned to do for the day, and hoped he had a good rest as well. By evening time, I would update him what I really did for the day, and all the struggles that happened. I continue to apologize to him for everything and anything - about how horrible I was back in the day when I didn't listen to him, about how I wished I took more pictures with him the past year, about how I wish I could've saved him. It goes on. 

The biggest lie is telling your loved ones that you'll be ok once they're gone. But reality is, I'm not ok. I'll probably never be ok, like how I was before. But it's true when they say a part of you dies when a loved one dies. It changes you. 

I also find that when I'm at home, time is non-existent. I could write up an entire plan for the day, and it wouldn't get done. I could tell a friend I can meet them at 5pm, and when the time comes, I'm still at home. I'd have to apologize for losing track of time. Or if I tell myself I really need this item from the grocery store. Or I need fuel today. But they don't get done. Maybe it's just me. Maybe my mind is just so hyper focused on how things could have been, and it just gets stuck in a loop. 

Or the times I promise mom I'd take her to a mall. But instead, we both start cleaning the house. Then we never make it out to the mall. Stuff like that. There's no wrong way of doing this, but I guess it's just having to take things as it goes. Take it a day at a time, a task at a time. There is no right time to do things. 

I still take my muscle relaxants before bedtime almost every night before work. On days that I don't work, I don't take them. In a way, it helps to keep my brain from overthinking because once all things are settled, that's when the brain will start wandering in its own thoughts, and it could keep me awake all night. 

After dad passed, I don't have the passion to do anything that I was previously doing. Driving. Lego. Going for walks at the mall. Buying random crap. Buying plushies. Maybe part of it is because all of dad's items are still here. Some have been donated but majority of his things are still here. And it got me thinking that...if I buy anymore crap, I don't want my family to deal with all the crap that I have accumulated over the years. So I stopped buying things. Except for food or drinks since we all need that. But anything else? I'm reluctant to buy anything, as it would remind me that this new item is now in my collection BUT WAIT...dad isn't here to see. My brain would pinpoint every little detail that this ONE ITEM was purchased after dad passed. But everything else I have? It was purchased while dad was still alive. 

I know it sounds ridiculous and I know I can't continue to keep living like this forever. Until my brain and heart can heal, I can't force myself to buy something yet. I would feel super guilty. I would probably hear him in my ear 'yaya, are you sure you need that? you already have 10 of those at home. Save your money.'

1 month later and it's still so fresh. I'm still very emotional. I'm also still very angry. I tend to lose my patience faster than before, or I get much more annoyed now when something doesn't go my way. Then it'll pass, and I would feel guilty and cry. I'd apologize to dad for disappointing him and God, that I was better than this. 

I've taken another much needed break from work to try and heal myself, because this past month was just too much. 

After this month passes, it will also be the first of everything....the first Thanksgiving without him. The first Remembrance Day without him. His first heavenly birthday. The first Christmas without him. The first New Year's Eve without him...and it goes on. I know it will hit me hard this year and next year. I don't know how I'm going to deal with them, but all I can do is try it one day at a time.

As the saying goes...grief is just love, with nowhere to go.