Filling The Cup

Chapter 4: Turning Point

Two weeks before my father's death, I had received a vision, a warning from God. I came home from work around 4:30 pm. I knocked and slightly opened my parents' room.

“Daddy! Daddy!" I called out to my dad. He doesn't seem to hear me.

He raised the volume of the television. The odd part , even though the volume was raised to seventeen I can't hear it. Am I going deaf like my dad because he can't hear me nor the television. Like a vacuum all sound sucked out, I could only hear myself.

My dad was sitting on a black plastic armed chair, in front of the television. The entire room was bright except where he sat. There was a shadow covering him. Like a dark spotlight.

I said,“My daddy is going to die!"

I can't believe I had said that. I shook my head and went to my room.

On October 4th year 2000, my dad was extremely happy. He had two mugs of coffee and ate his earlier dinner. While he was eating, my mom said he asked forgiveness from God for all the sins he had done and he had said against God.

At 7:30 in the evening, I was in my room and my mom was screaming for help.

“Hurry! Your dad slipped on the tiled floor. His temple is bleeding. He is pale black!" She said.

I came down from the third floor, where my room was. I saw my mom hugging my dad on floor. He was lifeless.

It was narrow hallway and I couldn't come near him because they were all there.  My Mom, my second to the oldest brother and my sister in law (My oldest brother's wife who happened to be a registered nurse) were blocking the way.

He was taken to the hospital after my sister in law had tried CPR. He was declared dead on arrival by the attending doctor in the Emergency Room, after many attempts to revive him. He was declared dead at 8:30 pm.

While they were in hospital, I cleaned up the blood stain on the tiled floor. My sister was ten years old at that time.

She asked, “Is daddy going to be okay? Is he coming back home?"

I had to tell her the truth, “No, he isn't coming back. He is dead. He is going back home to God."

I had embraced her tightly.

She cried and said, “Daddy. Daddy. Come back home. I don't want you to die! Please come home."

During the preparation for his funeral, I had asked permission from my mom if I can invite the Word Community Church Choir ministry and our pastor to officiate a funeral service. She allowed it. The Pastor had officiate the funeral service and the choir had sang.

My grandmother appreciated it. She said, “Thank you for inviting a choir. They sang so beautifully."

I couldn't cry until the choir sang the song, “Pagkat ang Diyos ay Diyos ng Pag-ibig" in English “Because God is the God of Love."

I had attended Church until 2001 after that I rarely attended.