HARD CANDY
LOSING A SUPERHERO FATHER
There's nothing quite as difficult as saying goodbye to the most important man in your life. by Maita Ponce
(published in Candy Magazine September issue 2005)
It was probably just another morning on the eighth of August 2004 when you were surfing through the TV channels and happened to catch the breaking news that Presidential Assistant to House and Resettlement Nestor C. Ponce, Jr. was killed in a vehicular accident. To me, it was no ordinary day. That was the day I lost my dad.
Around that time, my sister finally moved out to prepare for the bar exams after four years in law school. My parents had been praying novenas every Sunday for her success. It seemed like one of those Sunday mornings when my dad knocked on my door to wake me up. I did not even get up to open it, but called out to say that I was not feeling well and went back to sleep. In an hour or so, I was woken up by my sister's banging on the door, urging me to get dressed. "Mom and dad got into an accident!" What? Where? Why? I had so many questions, yet there was no time for anything but to get dressed as quickly as possible. I kept hoping that my parents were probably wounded, but safe nevertheless. Death was out of my mind. As our car pulled into the hospital's emergency driveway, I saw our relatives already waiting outside. By this time, I was really confused. I kept on asking what happened but nobody dared answer. We were simply greeted by sobs and hugs when finally my tita whispered to me, "Maits, daddy is gone."
Was there a time in your life when you felt like it had popped out from a movie? To me, this was the most surreal event in my life. Up until now, the images from that moment still vividly flash through my mind. I remember feeling a lump in my throat when I heard the news, and breaking into loud shrieks of despair. I remember seeing my brother coming out of the emergency room with blood stains on his shirt, hugging us while telling my sister, "Mag-babar ka pa, ha?" I remember seeing Mom, in her bloodstained blouse, crying on my shoulder as she cried out for my dad. My senses were acutely aware of every noise and sight -- the apologetic look on the doctors and the nurses faces that seemed to ask for forgiveness, and the indifference of the people who might have been so used to such a scene.
The Superhero That He Was
Mom remembered Dad waking up earlier than usual to get dressed that morning. It was like he had a date with the Lord, she said. Usually, my dad would insist that I go with them to hear mass at 6am. But he was the one who told my mom to let me rest that morning. Mom recounted the events that happened in a snap. Another car from the opposite lane flew right smack into theirs. There was no time for screaming. Dad hugged my mom as if protecting her up to the last minute, when another vehicle came crashing into his side. Dad was a hero. We could have gone with them and died too, but he saved my life, my sister's and my mom's.
Perhaps the funeral was our greatest comfort when we saw the sea of people who loved my dad dearly. Dad had been a councilor and a congressman in Tondo, Manila, before he was assigned to be Undersecretary for House and Resettlement under President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo. He was always out of the house and would come home when we were already asleep. Sometimes, when he would ask me to sing for his projects, I'd always feel so overwhelmed by how much the people supported him and how much he loved them in return. He was uncomfortable being idle and always felt the need to take action in uplifting poverty in the Philippines. Yet despite his busy schedule, he possessed impressive strength. He always had time to take the family out for dinner or some music.
During his wake, people, young and old and from different walks of life, cried with us and told stories of how Dad touched their lives. Instead of feeling even more depressed, we felt comforted that so many were also going through our grief.
On Coping
Every waking morning after dad's death was a struggle for my family. However, the first few months did not really feel like that for me. Unlike people who become shattered and lost, I was more driven than ever to make my life as normal as before. I took my philosophy oral exam the day after the funeral just to prove that I was okay. Then again, the results revealed otherwise. I went out for movies, engaged in so many extracurricular activities, auditioned for plays, and still had the energy to train with the pep squad. But in the end, I realized I was merely escaping from the painful truth. I was in denial, and I had to go through the worst Christmas in my life just to accept the fact that nothing would ever be the same again.
For people who have experienced a similar loss, let me share some things I realized:
1.) Grieving is a choice but moving on is never easy. As cliche as it may sound, this is quite true. I found myself going through Dad's dental kit, sniffing the faint scent of his perfume in his hankerchief, and hugging every garment that hung from his closet. I was wallowing in sadness while saying that I had no choice. Yet the truth was, I did have the choice. But I chose to grieve because I knew it would help, and that it was the first step to acceptance.
2.) Talking about it helps. My mom was the most affected because she was there when it happened. I won't deny the fact that at some point, I grew tired of hearing her cry and recount the accident. But one thing I learned is that sometimes, just letting the person talk is helpful enough.
3.) It is not a matter of getting over it, but getting used to it. Whoever said that time heals all wounds overlooked one huge fact when coping with death -- as time goes by, it does not heal right away. It becomes even more painful. Every moment is like a very hard "first." I remember the first Sunday we went out together, just the four of us. We heard mass and had lunch out, but it was so hard, we went home right away. I remember experiencing the first Simbang Gabi without Dad, the first New Year countdown, and my first birthday without him.
Mending takes time. Only when you have experienced every aspect of your life with that loss can you start getting used to it and eventually, feel comfortable with it.
4.) Seek professional help if necessary. Sometimes talking to friends or to family can be tiring. Aside from the burden of putting them in the uncomfortable spot of not knowing what to do, they may be too emotionally affected as well. Seeking help from psychologists also helps. My mom once took us to her psychologist, and the visit truly helped us in releasing whatever we found hard to express to one another.
5. Pray and still be thankful. Despite the unfortunate incident, praying opened my eyes to so many things I should be thankful for. Mom could have been in a worse condition, but thank God she was not seriously injured. Sometimes, when we get too caught up in whatever preoccupation in life, we forget to talk to Him and to thank Him for each waking moment. Pray, even if you are not in serious need of something.
More than a year later, though not quite healed from the pain, I have gathered strength -- along with painful recollections and hopefully wise realizations -- to share with you that loss of a loved one is clearly not a deadend. Perhaps moving on is not really about obliterating wounds of the past, but about accepting these wounds and learning to live once again.
There's nothing quite as difficult as saying goodbye to the most important man in your life. by Maita Ponce
(published in Candy Magazine September issue 2005)
It was probably just another morning on the eighth of August 2004 when you were surfing through the TV channels and happened to catch the breaking news that Presidential Assistant to House and Resettlement Nestor C. Ponce, Jr. was killed in a vehicular accident. To me, it was no ordinary day. That was the day I lost my dad.
Around that time, my sister finally moved out to prepare for the bar exams after four years in law school. My parents had been praying novenas every Sunday for her success. It seemed like one of those Sunday mornings when my dad knocked on my door to wake me up. I did not even get up to open it, but called out to say that I was not feeling well and went back to sleep. In an hour or so, I was woken up by my sister's banging on the door, urging me to get dressed. "Mom and dad got into an accident!" What? Where? Why? I had so many questions, yet there was no time for anything but to get dressed as quickly as possible. I kept hoping that my parents were probably wounded, but safe nevertheless. Death was out of my mind. As our car pulled into the hospital's emergency driveway, I saw our relatives already waiting outside. By this time, I was really confused. I kept on asking what happened but nobody dared answer. We were simply greeted by sobs and hugs when finally my tita whispered to me, "Maits, daddy is gone."
Was there a time in your life when you felt like it had popped out from a movie? To me, this was the most surreal event in my life. Up until now, the images from that moment still vividly flash through my mind. I remember feeling a lump in my throat when I heard the news, and breaking into loud shrieks of despair. I remember seeing my brother coming out of the emergency room with blood stains on his shirt, hugging us while telling my sister, "Mag-babar ka pa, ha?" I remember seeing Mom, in her bloodstained blouse, crying on my shoulder as she cried out for my dad. My senses were acutely aware of every noise and sight -- the apologetic look on the doctors and the nurses faces that seemed to ask for forgiveness, and the indifference of the people who might have been so used to such a scene.
The Superhero That He Was
Mom remembered Dad waking up earlier than usual to get dressed that morning. It was like he had a date with the Lord, she said. Usually, my dad would insist that I go with them to hear mass at 6am. But he was the one who told my mom to let me rest that morning. Mom recounted the events that happened in a snap. Another car from the opposite lane flew right smack into theirs. There was no time for screaming. Dad hugged my mom as if protecting her up to the last minute, when another vehicle came crashing into his side. Dad was a hero. We could have gone with them and died too, but he saved my life, my sister's and my mom's.
Perhaps the funeral was our greatest comfort when we saw the sea of people who loved my dad dearly. Dad had been a councilor and a congressman in Tondo, Manila, before he was assigned to be Undersecretary for House and Resettlement under President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo. He was always out of the house and would come home when we were already asleep. Sometimes, when he would ask me to sing for his projects, I'd always feel so overwhelmed by how much the people supported him and how much he loved them in return. He was uncomfortable being idle and always felt the need to take action in uplifting poverty in the Philippines. Yet despite his busy schedule, he possessed impressive strength. He always had time to take the family out for dinner or some music.
During his wake, people, young and old and from different walks of life, cried with us and told stories of how Dad touched their lives. Instead of feeling even more depressed, we felt comforted that so many were also going through our grief.
On Coping
Every waking morning after dad's death was a struggle for my family. However, the first few months did not really feel like that for me. Unlike people who become shattered and lost, I was more driven than ever to make my life as normal as before. I took my philosophy oral exam the day after the funeral just to prove that I was okay. Then again, the results revealed otherwise. I went out for movies, engaged in so many extracurricular activities, auditioned for plays, and still had the energy to train with the pep squad. But in the end, I realized I was merely escaping from the painful truth. I was in denial, and I had to go through the worst Christmas in my life just to accept the fact that nothing would ever be the same again.
For people who have experienced a similar loss, let me share some things I realized:
1.) Grieving is a choice but moving on is never easy. As cliche as it may sound, this is quite true. I found myself going through Dad's dental kit, sniffing the faint scent of his perfume in his hankerchief, and hugging every garment that hung from his closet. I was wallowing in sadness while saying that I had no choice. Yet the truth was, I did have the choice. But I chose to grieve because I knew it would help, and that it was the first step to acceptance.
2.) Talking about it helps. My mom was the most affected because she was there when it happened. I won't deny the fact that at some point, I grew tired of hearing her cry and recount the accident. But one thing I learned is that sometimes, just letting the person talk is helpful enough.
3.) It is not a matter of getting over it, but getting used to it. Whoever said that time heals all wounds overlooked one huge fact when coping with death -- as time goes by, it does not heal right away. It becomes even more painful. Every moment is like a very hard "first." I remember the first Sunday we went out together, just the four of us. We heard mass and had lunch out, but it was so hard, we went home right away. I remember experiencing the first Simbang Gabi without Dad, the first New Year countdown, and my first birthday without him.
Mending takes time. Only when you have experienced every aspect of your life with that loss can you start getting used to it and eventually, feel comfortable with it.
4.) Seek professional help if necessary. Sometimes talking to friends or to family can be tiring. Aside from the burden of putting them in the uncomfortable spot of not knowing what to do, they may be too emotionally affected as well. Seeking help from psychologists also helps. My mom once took us to her psychologist, and the visit truly helped us in releasing whatever we found hard to express to one another.
5. Pray and still be thankful. Despite the unfortunate incident, praying opened my eyes to so many things I should be thankful for. Mom could have been in a worse condition, but thank God she was not seriously injured. Sometimes, when we get too caught up in whatever preoccupation in life, we forget to talk to Him and to thank Him for each waking moment. Pray, even if you are not in serious need of something.
More than a year later, though not quite healed from the pain, I have gathered strength -- along with painful recollections and hopefully wise realizations -- to share with you that loss of a loved one is clearly not a deadend. Perhaps moving on is not really about obliterating wounds of the past, but about accepting these wounds and learning to live once again.
Page created: February 26th 2006 07:29 PM