Papa

I woke up this morning at 4 am to my stomach cramping. The birds were beginning their morning chirp. For some reason this morning, the sound of the birds was like music to my ears. I went to sleep at 7:30 last night .. lately that's when fatigue gets the better of me and I either fall asleep on the couch downstairs telling my partner i'm "just napping". Last night, I decided i'm going to bed -- no intermediate step!

At 4:15 this morning I lit the candles in my meditation/writing room and lit the lavendar incense. My rushing mind kept wandering, and with every breath I brought myself back to the present moment and to the quiet, peaceful room. I could feel the presence of Missy and Mister sleeping soundly on the sage LL Bean bed with Ahnung's name printed on it. Every morning they snuggle up next to each other as I engage in my morning routine of meditation and writing. Ahnung chooses to sleep in the living room, on the red couch.

In the quiet and darkness of the early morning, I felt my father's presence so strongly this morning. I know he's always with me. Today, for some reason, the feeling was overwhelming. I could feel the presence, the light, the love and the comfort of my father ... to me, he is "Papa." Every day I wear around my neck a gold necklace with a diamond heart -- a necklace he gave to my mother when they were dating in the late 1950s. My father, from Thailand ... and my mother, from the Philippines ... somehow their paths took them to the other end of the world to the small town of Bloomington, Indiana to attend Indiana University. My father came to work on his Master's of Optometry, and my mother her Master's in Education. It was there that they met, fell in love, got married and traveled back to the other end of the world to raise a family. Little did my mom know that seven years later she would make the long trek back to the United States, with a 7 yr old, 5 yr old and a 4 yr old, in a desperate attempt to save the love of her life as doctors in Thailand told her "he's dying. There is nothing we can do."

I lost my father when I was 4. At the young age of 39 he was abruptly ripped from our lives. One of my strongest memories of him is of how he used to always carry me and how I always felt safe in his arms. There have been times when I have felt like I missed out on not having a father growing up. Most of the times though I feel grateful -- he has always been with me, in my heart and in my spirit. There are days, like today, when he reminds me that he is right with me by filling every cell in my body with the light and love of his presence.

I was his "baby" ... in August I will be turning 45 and I am proud to say, that I am still his "baby" and he is and will always be "papa" to me.