There are some words. Words that along the years brought so much meaning. So much joy, so much to be thankful for, so much to ponder on.
I know you had something more to say, as I did; and yet all those years passed by and I did not steel myself for the inevitable. I’ve asked you many times, and your answer was always a dismissive “It’s alright, don’t worry about me. I’m okay, I can carry this.”
If only I could turn back time and do more of what you thought would have been bothersome to me, I would. Because it was not; and most importantly, because I love you.
I miss you so much. I know you are in a better place now—for starters, there’s no pandemic in there—and I want you to know that we love you and we always remember you. No day passes by without me thinking of you, no matter how heavy and crushing it was to see you go.
Today would have been your 70th birthday with us. And we would have celebrated it simply, just like you wanted; and we’d probably start the day with a visit to the beach, and then have your favorite freshly cooked lechon before going back home. Then we’d attend Mass in the afternoon, and have dinner at that restaurant you enjoy.
Happy Birthday in Heaven, Pa!