1: BLOOD AND TEARS

NOT A SINGLE preparation could prevent anyone from bowling into tears when you see your father on his bed fighting for his life but you can’t do anything.

“Father, you got this,” I mumbled while choking in tears. “Are you hurting? Where? Let us help.”

I was leaning onto my father’s shoulders and my mother sat beside him on the bed muffling her cries.

Outside, the rain is pouring heavily as darkness slowly engulfs the surroundings. It was way past evening and almost midnight when I was about to help Dad take his medication, but I was horrified when I saw this.

We were shedding tears as heavy as the downpour.

This might be the night that I was so scared of. But I can’t lose my father like this.

We have been to several hospitals in the past year. Yet we were told that his body couldn’t make it anymore—his disease had already spread throughout his organs and that any kind of operation would be futile. His medication is only to alleviate the pain he is enduring, not a cure.

Thunder roared and I closed my eyes. Another tear slipped and I inhaled a deep breath. I shouldn’t deny it anymore. My father is just an hour away from death. I couldn’t take it. I feel like I am losing my breath.

Looking at my parents hugging each other at this time, my heart shattered into millions of pieces. Though the sight of them leaning on each other’s faces beholds a sight of love, it also shows a sight inches away from death.

My father’s physique has become frail and pale. Gone is his energy that could last all day long. But never did he lack attention towards me as he nursed me with guidance and lessons as I was growing up. My mother graced our family with her gentle and soft-natured presence. I grew up well-supported and loved. Which makes my father’s death even more aching, knowing that I will lose a portion of the love that I had grown up with ever since.

“Father, I will call an ambulance,” I mumbled under my breath as I attempted to stand up.

But my father shrugged his head. His movements were slow, which showed his agony. “C-come here, d-dear,” he raised his hand. I held it once again and went back to my position earlier, beside my parents.

“Soon, it’s only going to be you and your mother. Be with your Mom whenever she misses me. She’ll miss me quite a lot.”

I cried even more, hearing my father do his best to speak even if I could feel him struggling under his breath. He smiled at me. At 50, he has more wrinkles on his face, maybe because life’s struggles have stressed him, but with my mother, he felt like things were bearable.

“Esmé…” he called out my name. “When I am gone, you have to marry.”

I looked up at my mother after hearing that. “Ma?”

She nodded, her squinting eyes glinting approving of what my Dad said. Marriage? But why? I am just 22 years old!

Even if I didn’t want to cause a stir between us family, now that my father is facing a very serious situation, I couldn’t help but ask. “Pa, I am happy with my career as a training chef, I am still going to build a restaurant soon.”

“Shh,” Father mumbled, his eyes almost closing. “You can do that. And all the things you aspire to do in your life. But first, we have to marry—”

“Marry who?” I retorted.

“The first son of the Ravij family.”

I searched for answers from my mother’s eyes. She has always been my voice when I couldn’t find my own. The one who offers me clarity when I get confused. Only this time she remained silent, and her eyes spoke to mine. Like saying: Listen to your father…

“His parents and I talked about this already. We have agreed to wed the two of you.” Looking at my father, the aching feeling is now accompanied by confusion. But my respect and love towards him surpassed the confusion I felt, but that doesn’t mean I would blindly agree with what my father just said.

“But, why?”

An arranged marriage from a man that I don’t know AT ALL? I can’t do that!

I dare not open my mouth after asking a question. It may cause my father to stir his emotions and put him into more hardship.

Waiting for a response, but I saw my father look up at the ceiling.

Our family doctor said that one day his organs will stop functioning all at once. By that time, my father told us to just accept his passing and not try to revive him. He wants to die solemnly without fighting for his life. He said that he has already been doing that all his years of existence.

That’s why he decided to take his last breath on his bed, in the arms of his family—the most precious thing he valued so much.

His grip on my hand loosened and my mother whimpered. Right there, my shoulders started shaking, and my sobs escaped from my lips. I heard the thunder roaring outside and the sound of the rain patting our windows.

“Father…” I called out, but he did not open his eyes anymore. Not ever.

My mother hugged my father while crying. I couldn’t grasp my senses and also cried non-stop. I was crying on the side of the bed. Each tear that fell from my cheeks went to my hands and kept wiping them, but it just wouldn’t budge to stop.

The pain of loss weighed so much that I could feel it in my stomach, my heart feeling hollow, sinking, yet breaking at the same time.

For a moment, only our sobs filled the surroundings along with the thunder. Soon there was lightning from outside, and I stared at it from the windows—striking at the sky.

The chaos outside did not lessen the chaos that we felt inside from losing a family. It hurts so much. I don’t know how to deal with this.

But I stilled from my spot when I heard a sharp jolt from the door. It was a repeating sound. My mother kept hugging my father and she kissed his hair. The abrupt sound kept going. It started to scare me.

“I think someone’s outside, Mother,” I said. I got up and was about to investigate what was going on in the living room where it seemed like the sound came from.

“Claire, darling, I fetched the door. Can you call the funeral service?”

My mother kissed my father’s forehead one last time, then she got up. She gave me a tight hug and smiled at me. The one that shows she might be smiling, but her eyes are not.

“We got this together. The two of us and your father’s memories. Alright?’’ Despite my mother’s brave words, I knew she said that to convince herself. Because that is just so hard. All our lives, Father has been our protector, our source of sunshine with his witty remarks despite his tough facade.

I nodded in tears. My mother did the same, and so I walked towards the telephone to do what my mother instructed me to do.

By this time, the noise that sounded like our door was getting hit by something had stopped. The door in my parents’ room had been opened all the while so the sound from the rest of the house would just pass through.

My mother walked away as I busied myself with the telephone. From across the room, my father lay on the bed. His eyes were now closed, and he looked like he was just peacefully sleeping.

I inhaled a deep breath but before I could exhale or talk on the phone, I heard a loud sound. Something similar to a gunshot.

“Mother!” I shrieked, rushing towards the living room and dropping the telephone.

There was no response. My heart thudded erratically, and I fell onto the floor as I saw my mother lying on the floor covered in blood. Three men wearing masks stood in front of us. My body shook. My brain went blank as I took in what was happening.

Is this real? Is this happening? WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON!

But I couldn’t deny the truth anymore. The sight in front of me was as frightening as my father’s death, which I had witnessed earlier.

I wanted to crawl to my mother’s side as she was limping in pain.

“Who are you!” I shouted to the intruders. Behind them, our doorknob was now destroyed. Horror took over me. The noise I heard earlier… was because someone was banging on the door, forcing it to open.

“W-What do y-you want?” I said, my voice shaking. “Mother—”

I was crying and crawling onto the floor just so I could get near to my mother.

But I saw the masked men raise their guns and point them at me. “Move and we’ll kill you!”