An Apology Unsaid

By Jiea Dee

The darkest moment of my life was hollow. It was so hollow that I never knew what I was feeling nor what I was supposed to be feeling. It was when my dear grandfather passed away.

My grandfather. We affectionately called him “Papa Tony.” He was such a fun-loving and generous person. Every Christmas used to be a blast. My cousins and I all had mountains of presents as well as extra money to spend for the holidays. Everything seemed jolly until his death.

Only in my teenage years did I begin to tilt on the negatives. Back then, he would habitually give me unwanted sermons on what to do with my life, what course to take up in college, who to choose as a boyfriend, to think only of earning money, get out of the country, and all the tedious when-I-was-your-age monologues given by wheezy old men to their grandkids.

I couldn’t take the blabbing anymore. It gave birth to annoyance. The annoyance soon evolved to spite. Spite, in return, spawned to hatred. I began talking behind his back, calling him a grouch, a Hitler-wannabe, and the worst: a greedy, malcontent, power-hungry plutomaniac. There was even a time I had the balls to yell straight at his face.

We never saw each other again. Only during the Christmas holidays did my Mom call me up, tearfully informing me that our Papa Tony has liver cancer. He might not last long. We all gathered around his hospital bed. Mom couldn’t bear to see him helpless in bed. I left the room just to stay away from the melancholy.

Only two days after Christmas did we hear the grave news. Papa Tony has finally passed away. I felt numb. Guilt and conscience suddenly flooded me like a breaking dam. I suddenly remembered all the kind things he did for us. I felt so empty yet I wondered where my streaming tears were coming from.

I often ask. Why is it that people are loved only when they’re gone? Why is it that we tend to take them for granted and only reminisce on the goodness of their existence in the end? Why do we know the answers only when it’s far too late?

Months passed. We habitually visited his grave in Manila Memorial Park. Even though I would look straight at his epitaph, I still can’t look straight at his face. I never got to apologize for everything I said about him when he was still alive. And I’d rather not now that he’s dead. I believe it’s a form of cowardice to apologize indirectly.

Even if my cousin Raph encouraged me to apologize to his grave, I still couldn’t do so. I’d just sit in a corner and let regret torture my soul.

Raph put his arm around me. “Papa Tony has already forgiven you long before you even thought of apologizing. Even if you still haven’t said the words, he has already looked for those words in your heart. And he perfectly understands you’re sorry. There’s nothing to be guilty about, alright?”

Yes. All is well. At least Papa Tony is already in a world where he can fly around and feel no pain. We shall all see him soon.