I am sad and sad and sad.

To say that June has been a harrowing month is an understatement. I quit my job late in the middle of May, and then got news that my Dad is sick, and then I lost my Dad in the beginning of the month. A couple of days after his funeral, members of my family exhibited symptoms of Covid-19, and 7/10 tested positive, including myself. I am actually typing this post while in an isolation facility. Today is our ninth day here, and we will be released tomorrow.

I am so ready to go home.

I am a bit fortunate that aside from body pains and feeling sleepy day in and day out, I didn't experience more severe symptoms. Instant coffee smells like curry to me now, but I am hoping the virus doesn't affect me further in the long run. My Dad wasn't as lucky.

What a barrage. It feels like a series of multiple terrible events, that I haven't even gotten the chance to grieve properly yet. I remember my Tatay in quiet moments at night, when everyone has gone to sleep, and remember I will never again hear his voice, or eat the food he lovingly prepares for us, or even have him walk me down the aisle. I am sad and sad and sad. 

Yet, these quiet moments bring comfort as well. Knowing that he loved us, and that he was so loved by many people, and that many friends reached out and gave assistance in numerous forms bring me comfort.

We had him cremated. I wish we could have done a big funeral to celebrate his life, like the funeral we had for my Uncle Karl. The pandemic has robbed us of so many things, especially the chance to be there with my Tatay during his final moments, or the ability to check if a procedure goes wrong. I'd like to think he passed away without pain, that he just chose to follow the light and Lola Binyang's, Lolo Popoy's, and my sister Kim's voices. 

We weren't able to check if his name appeared in notices and obituaries, but we got a lot of messages from his friends and relatives with stories remembering him with love and fondness. I'd like to thank them for their kindness and sympathy, and for praying with us for the eternal repose of his soul.

During the last day of our Novena at the 9th day since he passed, a beautiful butterfly visited our garden and stayed there all afternoon. It had intricate red heart-shaped patterns on its wings, and I know it's a silly superstition but in my heart I believe that was Tatay making his presence known to us. His name was Valentino because he was born on Valentine's Day, and what could be more Valentine-themed than red hearts?

I actually dreamt of him the other night. I wish I could dream of him again.

I am Valentino Cruz's daughter. I love him and I am forever proud he was my Tatay.