It was surreal.
I came home in the morning, at like 6AM after work at this shitty bar where I worked as a waiter. All the lights in the house were switched on. My brother came into my room crying and said our dad has passed on.
I ran to the master bedroom and saw my mom crying on the bed. My dad’s lifeless body was laid there, motionless because he was never going to move again. Cold, because I touched him for the last time.
At least he went peacefully in his sleep. I was told he was happily watching the one of World Cup (it was 2006 then) games the night before.
But who can really tell what went through his mind. Who can really know he was happy at his last moments? The effects of ALS (Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis) had accumulated over two years then. Any victim with the disease then would have had lost bodily functions practically all over by then.
I think he must felt ready to go anytime.
All in all, there’s just no describing death, or life for that matter. No words can perfectly be used. You feel it’s unreal.
It was a series of questions.
As I sat there crying, I couldn’t help but keep asking myself a few things.
