Foot and Fire

Last 24 March 2017, I released a collection of poems called The Watch to mark the 1st death anniversary of my father. I thought it would be all. I was wrong. He visited me in my dream on the morning of his cremation a year ago. I have to compose something about it. Here it is: Freeing  (Good Morning Tay, 3/30/2017) Today, a year ago, your body left us. I remembered because you woke me up after your short visit in my sleep. I was reminded: You left as a free man, free from all kinds of pain and free from the burden of worrying all reserved for the living. Your body left to become dust in that chamber after your spirit just flew away with the air. And now that you are dust; you will just be around. Unimposing, but there. Thank you for reminding me today that you are a free man from this worldly affairs of existing, of living. Thank you for reminding me today That I am a free woman.

Our relationship with our father was one made of love and hate. We loved him deeply for taking care of us first. He wanted to be a teacher but stayed in the well-paid job of being a policeman until he retired. He proved that work can go well with family first policy. That is why with his salary and loans and augmented by our mother's, he raised us all five children well with good education. He was a devoted husband to our mother, a gift he also indirectly showered us. He was a generous giver because it was a joy for him to give us P500 or P1000 every time he received financial blessings. He made our education a priority, a lifetime investment he staked in, that he even extended that to our relatives who wanted to study. He loved to put us to his “fattening” or “feeding” program because he enjoyed cooking for us because according to him we should be well-fed and not sickly (and grow up tall), a way of living he shared with us until he was diagnosed with canc...