Dear Valentine,

I woke up this morning listening to songs that reminded me of you. They’re not my vibe at all. You liked music based on how it made you feel over anything else, so I’m taking a closer listen these days. I used to think God gave you those bad ears just so you could feel your way through Life the way He intended us all to live it; what a Gift! I’m also starting to think your hearing wasn’t as bad as you made me believe just so you could ignore me when I talked too much. You always had jokes.

Can you believe it’s been so many weeks since we’ve last seen each other? I’m doing fine, but I think that’s what every woman with a broken heart says. I started doing Pilates and have been getting outside more. You were the one who taught me the value of good health and how to embrace nature, so it’s weird doing these things just for and with myself now. I’ve been distracting myself with work; I think this business was your gift to me before you left. If you were still here, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything but making sure you’re okay. That sounds so selfish, I’m sorry. But this is me trying to look at the silver lining. There was a night, before you left, and I couldn’t stop crying just imagining what it would be like without you. I had to call the advice nurse at Kaiser because I thought I was having a heart attack; but I would never tell you that because you’d think I was crazy. I kinda wish I did now so you would’ve known how much I needed you.

Today brings such a mixture of feelings. I know it’s over, but I can’t help but be reminded of you on Valentine’s Day — a day of love and celebration. When you left, I was the one reassuring everyone it was going to be fine. I held it together because that’s how you would’ve wanted it — you always knew I was stronger than I carried myself to be. You didn’t believe in weakness. Why, when there’s so much to be strong for? But to be honest, I miss you so much sometimes it moves this intangible pain to my physical body. I carry this heaviness for days until something like today happens.

I’ve been struggling with tough decisions lately (occupational hazard of being a Libra) both business and personal. I decided to take a break from my brain and did what you’re never supposed to do when you miss someone no longer in your life — I went back in time. There aren’t any text messages to re-read until my eyes go blurry (I know you hate technology, I’m starting to hate it too), so I listened to a voice note recorded from one of our mid-day visits. I would leave work early, bring you your favorite salad and watch retired folks’ TV with you before asking the list of questions my younger self was too self absorbed to ask.

You see, Tatay, today is your 81st birthday up there but I still hear you talking to me down here.

These voice notes are embarrassing as I listen to myself yap, but it’s the only way I can still visit you in the middle of the day when work is overwhelming and life has a funny way of showing me I still don’t know sh*t. There’s more tears now and the talking is only one way, but that’s how most of your conversations on earth were anyway. People always talking. You always listening, reading and observing. But when it came time to do work and make decisions — everyone followed your lead.

The voice note starts off with what sounds like paper bags crumpling. I probably brought over sandwiches from Roxie’s that day and we were cleaning up the kitchen table before migrating to the living room for TV Patrol.

Jac: “Tatay, why did you come to America?”

Tatay: “Huh?”

I think I caught you off guard. I adjusted my voice and loudened it a notch.

Jac: “Tatay, I said, why did you and Nona come to America?”

My grandma tries to interject here.

Nona: “Because it was my…”

Tatay: “…Because it was your Grandma’s dream.”

I always thought it was Tatay who pioneered our immigration story, but apparently not.

Jac: “Nona was the one who wanted to come to America?”

I remember him nodding and grinning now.

Tatay: “Yes, so I come here first. Your grandma always, always want to come to America so I come here first and get a job in New York and she came after with your dad.”

Nona let’s him finish before adding —

Nona: “We sold your Tatay’s bike — ano, what’s it called? Oh, Harley! We sold your Tatay’s Harley so he could come to America. I stayed in the Philippines with your dad and uncles until we had enough money to go there.”

I paused for a moment before asking the big one.

Jac: “Do you miss the Philippines?”

He didn’t hesitate at all.

Tatay: “Yes, but it’s better here. It’s better for you here.”

Tatay’s checked out shortly after, but that’s just who Tatay was. A man of few words but when he spoke, you listened. I begin to hear his slippers sliding across the kitchen floor. The refrigerator door opens and quickly shuts. He probably wanted a soda but then realized he was too full. His slippers start gliding across the hardwood floor and I’m almost certain he was on the way to his Lazy Boy.

This little snippet was just enough to get the tears rolling but not enough to warrant another 9–1–1 call to Kaiser. I never paid attention to that last part as closely as I did today. He said, “it’s better for you here.” It’s not better for him here or for my grandma. Not better for my dad or my uncles — but for me. I’m sure he would’ve said the same to any one of my sixteen cousins or fourteen nieces and nephews, but this realization trickled down to my core.

All the anxiety created by too much adulting dissipated at that very moment because the purpose for it all finally came to Light. In my family, and I’m sure in most of yours, we were taught by those who came before us to work hard not just for ourselves, but for the betterment of others. The world is a better place when YOU are in a better place and working hard to make it so. My Tatay sacrificed literally his entire life for us and for generations he would never even meet, but he knew if he wasn’t strong — who would be?

I may feel different when the text messages from the ghosts of relationships past start flowing in. But for now, in this very moment which is all we can ask for, this is the best February 14th I’ve had in a really, really long time.

I’m so happy we got to have our mid-day visit today, Tatay, and I promise to come by again real soon.

In Loving Memory of Jesus “Tatay” Hizon Domingo, Jr. (02/14/1937–12/05/2017)