Mom's battle with cancer ended in early summer. I knew Dad wouldhave a difficult time being alone. After I spent the final days of summer with him, I had to leave to attend graduate school. I found leaving difficult. He hugged me tight and wept as he prayed for my safe journey. There were times in the past when i resisted hugging him. I had been hurt deeply by a fractured romance, and for a while, it was hard for me to relate with any man. But since God brought emotional healing, I have learned to appreciate Dad's strong character. Before I was born, Dad gave up his stable managerial job in Davao to move to Manila, where doctors said Mom's chronic asthma would improve. Although a college graduate, he started out selling kitchen pans and vacuum cleaners, until he found a better work. He insisted on being the family's sole provider. He encouraged Mom in her sewing and art hobbies and even helped her tie quilts and mark hems. He had a giving spirit and often helped with minor house repairs. I saw more of his tender heart as cancer drained away Mom's life. At her deathbed, he read from the Bible Psalms 116:15 -- " Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His godly ones" -- and faithfully held Mom's swollen hand until he himself fell asleep in exhaustion. When Mom died, I knew he faced what was probably the loneliest day of his life. To comfort him, I wanted to tell him that I love him and was thankful for him. That day, I had been reading Paul's letters in the New Testament. Over and over, the apostle expressed thanks: " I ... do not stop giving thanks for you" " I thanks my God in all my remembrance of you." " We give thanks to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, praying always for you." " I thank God... as I constantly remember you in my prayers night and day." If Paul could tell his spiritual children how thankful he was for them, why could'nt I say the same thing to my Dad? Many times, of course, I have told Daddy that I love him. But now I thought he neede to know why. And so I wrote that letter....
I learned later that he cried when he got my letter. He even shared it to a few close friends. Ten weeks later, he died of heart attack. Dropping out of school to take care of family affairs, I faced the huge task of cleaning our home. As I cleared drawers and sorted the piles of mails, I remembered the anniversary letter that I wrote to Dad. Did he keep it? Or did the letter upset him so much that he threw it away?
January passed, then February. Slowly, as I sort his and Mom's personal belongings, I found old birthday cards, my grade school papers, and letters written some ten of fifteen years ago. But not that letter.
Then, in March, I checked out the closet where his luggage was stored. In the pocket of the suitcase he used on a trip the week before his death, there it was. He had kept it with him! As I opened it, I cried, thankful that I wrote it. Each sentence was hard to put down because I had been keeping my gratitude for too long. Now I thank God that he prompted me to send that note of love.......... in time.
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