Memoirs of an Amnesiac

It was a sunny day (29 degrees Celcius) on December 15, 2011 at approximately 10 am when my father went to SSS (Social Security System) to pay for his quarterly contributions. It was December 15 and he just got his share of the house budget from his son and daughter. That morning he was all smiles as he carried his little bundle of joy apo in his arms while he strapped him inside the basket carriage of his bicycle -- the same one that had been with him during that day. (All of us were at work and had no idea that he was going to pay for his contributions that day.)

Little did he know that it would be his last.

We never really knew what happened and we could only assume at this point that he went out of the SSS building, complaining of heart palpitations and dizziness (as was stated in his death certificate). By human instinct, he must have gone to CCMC (Cebu City Medical Hospital) to probably have his blood pressure checked. We assumed that he just walked all the way from SSS to CCMC which was quite a long distance, for some reason we did not know why he preferred to walk as we did give him enough money to pay for a taxicab on that day. The guard we spoke to at the SSS said that my father had even asked his name, just so he would know to whom he would claim his bicycle when he comes back. (We found my father's bike chained near the entrance.)

He was very affirmative that his was just a simple case of heart palpitation and could be easily treated with. Or so he thought. When he reached CCMC, he even gave my brother's number at the school where my brother works. He signed some paper works and some documents pertinent to his admission at the hospital that he hoped could save him. (It was the nearest one from SSS. We usually confine him at Miller Sanitarium.) We assumed again that he was not in his "usual" state (as this had been his fourth attack with stroke) since he could have gone to Miller but didn't.

My brother did not get the first call because he was in the other room. It was in the second call that he responded but it was already too late.

No last words. No goodbyes. Just laughter and a lot of it.

Somehow I could have wanted him to say some final words. But things would have been different by then.

Like the wind on that fateful day at 1:05 pm, I felt his passing. And like that wind, he has become elusive.

Ever-present, yet elusive.