denise the fish.
A strange eighteen-year-old girl who enjoys good music, writing, cold milk tea, and rainy days.

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My mom's back from her weekend outing today! I've really missed her.

We had dinner together and she told us an interesting story about my dad and my brother. It's pretty touching and a bit heartbreaking as well, so I thought of sharing it over here. It's a more personal version of what I posted on Tumblr.

My dad was an immigration officer at the Ninoy Aquino International Airport--meaning going to work late in the afternoon, and arriving home early in the morning. He often worked graveyard shifts and came back at around 12 or 2 AM. But he wouldn't go to sleep immediately. He'd stay up in my room, use our old desktop, and play his computer games.

My brother would often get up at this hour and see that my dad wasn't beside him. He'd then head over to the room where he was in and catch him on the computer. My dad would put my brother on his lap and play the game with him. This went on for most late nights...until my father passed away. My brother was four years old.

Weeks after my dad died, my mom would wake up in the middle of the night and find that my brother wasn't sleeping in his usual place. She'd go out of her bedroom to look for him, only to see that he was at the desktop computer, staring at the empty chair that my dad would usually sit on. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't cry. All he does is stare. And then my mom, constantly fighting back her tears, would lead him back to the bedroom and tell him to get some sleep. He would, eventually.

But the incident continued for months. My brother would get up in the middle of the night, looking for my father, hoping for another game with him, only to be greeted by the same empty chair, and the dead, blank screen of the computer. My mom would urge him back into bed, and the cycle would happen again on the succeeding nights.

My brother never got to play with my dad again.