It was October 2008. My U.S.-based cousin Lani had just returned to California from her trip to the Philippines. She visited Dad and told me something which she felt I needed to know — Dad’s health was failing, and he was already confined to a wheelchair.
I knew instantly that Dad’s days were numbered. I so wanted to see my father but I was attending graduate school in Northern California. I had planned on taking a trip to the Philippines during the Christmas holidays of that year, but my schedule didn’t permit me to.
I also immediately called Mom and told her the news. She and my father had been separated and it was a bitter separation. I had sensed that Mom still hadn’t fully forgiven Dad even after more than 15 years of separation. I had felt that she hadn’t truly forgiven him for his womanizing ways. For having chosen to separate from her and leaving our family for another woman.
It wasn’t therefore a far-fetched idea that my mother might get angry or pass on to me any of her unresolved inner conflicts and turmoil.
But I still took the risk and I told her that it’s up to her what she intended to do with the piece of news. Whether or not she was going to tell the rest of my siblings from whom I had been estranged, and who, like me, had also been estranged from our father. I felt that it was their right to know after all, whether or not they wanted to. And whether or not Mom was finally going to work on her forgiveness towards Dad and herself, my fervent prayer and desire.
Five months later, on March 2009, Dad passed on. The news naturally didn’t come as a complete surprise to me.
But I had one regret though. I didn’t get to speak to my father before he transitioned, even at least over the phone. Even after I had learned of his frail condition. Yes, I could have made a phone call but I didn’t. And I regretted that.
The fateful conversation with Dad’s second wife
Dad’s second wife, Celia and I met up shortly after I arrived in the Philippines in 2010, when I returned from my four-year sojourn in the U.S. Celia recounted to me the time when she and Dad visited me at my residential complex in the Philippines. I wasn’t living there at the time as I was pursuing my graduate studies in Northern California.
It then became clear to me why I sensed a strong pull to see Celia. I was still in the U.S. preparing for my trip to the Philippines when I strongly felt the need to meet up with her when I return. Apparently, there was something I needed to know. And for all I know, it was Dad who was nudging me to see Celia.
“Pinuntahan ka namin ng Daddy mo Nadine. Hindi ka na daw nakatira dun. Tulak-tulak ko nga ang Daddy mo sa wheelchair.” (Your Dad and I went to see you. We were told you don’t live there anymore. I was pushing your Dad in a wheelchair.)
My efforts of reaching out to him through the years, despite his constant rejection, finally paid off. At that moment, I felt I truly mattered to my father. My little Nadine was ecstatic! And I so needed to hear that piece of information.
I’ve realized though that through all those years that I was reaching out to reconnect with Dad, it was still the needy little Nadine who was in search of her emotionally distant father. To tell her how much he loves her. To be affirmed, approved, appreciated.
I had only recently realized that I had still been seeking for approval 50 years after my rejection story started. Similarly, I’m likewise realizing that part of the reason why I wanted to see Dad after I learned of his delicate condition, was for me to once and for all, hear him tell me that he loves me. I wanted to give him the chance to say to me something that he wasn’t able to express in words all through the years. And it is my wounded inner child, my hurting little Nadine seeking for the affection, attention, affirmation, approval and appreciation who so wanted to see Dad.
So the healing that has taken place and continues to take place now even as I’m writing this and recalling the incidents, may not have happened had Dad and I actually seen or spoken to each other, because I could have been setting up myself for disappointment and unnecessary pain.
Still, I heard you Dad. I heard what you wanted me to know and what I needed to hear. And you must have heard me and my prayer, too. Thank you! 🙂
The power of telepathy
Indeed, we cannot underestimate the power of telepathy and the validity of soul-to-soul communication. The energetic connection we all have. Our interconnectedness. Our being part of the Oneness. Speaking from the heart. Transcending our personalities and communicating instead at the soul level and using only the language of the soul.
These are more than enough to effectively convey what’s needed and essential. Sometimes, perhaps even often, it is preferable or even more effective to communicate at the soul-level rather than at, or in addition to the personality-level. Because then, we are coming only from our essence, our innocence. The purity of our spirits. No spoken or written words can create the same results and touch us to the core than when we communicate from one Divine Self to another.
And that even in the absence of physical contact or communication, forgiveness does take place. Healing does occur beyond space and time. Love transcends time and distance.
But to know that my father looked for me and came to visit me left no more room for me, be it my little Nadine or the Adult Nadine, to doubt my father’s love for me. It was my much-needed closure. And it was such a relief. Something huge was released out of my system.
I don’t think Celia realized the enormity of the impact of what she shared with me. But it doesn’t matter.
What matters is, being told of Dad’s visit helped me to have a different perspective. And it had taken my story with my father to a whole new level.
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