Mother
I witnessed my father’s tears for the first time during our visit to my late grandmother’s house. It was 5 days after she passed away. Till that moment, I have never seen my dad shows any kind of sadness.
We were decluttering her house. My late grandmother kept a lot of things. You can say she became a hoarder when she was old. I guess she did that to fill the emptiness of living alone. Alas, my father visits her every now and then. My father was the one she called whenever she was sick.
As I was sorting all her stuff that day, I take a look at my dad. He sit still as a statue when he opened a drawer in the living room . His face changed and for the first time, he cried. He cried in front all of us. I couldn’t hold my tears as I was watching my dad.
Almost 50 years of age and four adult kids later, the lost of a mother is still the most painful for him. For his sisters.
In this life, we matured, we become independent, we drifted apart from people we love as we grow up. Life consumes us. Times spent with our parents, the arguments, the scolding, the laughter and the memories became part of our past. The woman we call mother are now the person we take care of. Still, the love from a mother is eternal. Everlasting.
Years has passed, I can still see my dad holding back some tears every time we talk about her. The longing is still there. The pain when he lost her is still there. Time never heals. Time give us, well... time. To deal with our feelings. Wounds never heal over time. They settled down.