It's All Saints' Day today and we've just got back from the cemetery. It has been a tradition for us to visit my dad's and grandfather's grave, though this year, we didn't spend the night there, like we always do.
My dad died in 1989, 2 weeks after my college graduation. I always had that feeling that he just waited for me, his only daughter, to graduate. Papa had two other sons by his first wife who neither graduated from college (they got married early). Aside from that, based on a story my mom told us, there was a time (I was in high school then) when the doctors found a mass of some sort in my dad's liver, I think, and it was not really good news. My dad, the nervous-wreck that he is, which is ironic since he's a lawyer, decided to seek a second opinion. Before another series of tests, he visited the hospital chapel and did what he had never done in his life-- read the bible and feverishly prayed. He asked for strength and another chance at life. Apparently, my dad said.. (from my mom's exact words) "gusto ko lang na may magtapos na anak ko"..("I just wanted to see one of my children graduate"). A few days later, the test results showed no mass whatsoever. Nilch. None. Zero.
My dad died in 1989, 2 weeks after my college graduation. He died of aneurism of the aorta.