" Here’s a moving piece from a daughter who lost her father to COVID-19"
" Here’s a moving piece from a daughter who lost her father to COVID-19"
“Last Dance” is the 10-part documentary chronicling the exploits of one of the greatest basketball star and dynasties of all time, Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls.
Set against the backdrop of the 1997-98 NBA season, it had its initial showing last April 19 and will be on air two segments weekly up to May 17. It is supposed to be some sort of a biopic of Jordan himself, and the drama of the team's molding into the dynasty that it came out to be. That drama captures in a largely unreleased trove of footages of the team's exploits from the intrigues, the turning points, the individual conflicts among the players and some of them with management (Scottie Pippen's lament with Bulls GM Krause played out) makes for a compelling series which, if we go by the viewership on its initial showing (6.1 million), is going to be a record breaker of sorts.
This is well and good specially for those addicted to or craving some sports event in this age of lockdown.
But this piece is not about Jordan and the Bulls. I just happened to fancy the title "Last Dance" as it talks about an end, a kind of passing, of leaving the past behind and then continuing with life and moving on. This is, sadly, the story of families whose loved ones succumbed to the COVID-19 pandemic. Their stories of loss posted and talked about many times over have become not just theirs but the country's and to a large extent the world’s as well. It is as if we have become a global community in mourning, sharing in their grief, honoring their dead and then consoling one another as we hope and pray for deliverance in His time.
We grieved when we learned about the passing of medical frontliners one after the other. And then, after saluting them for their extraordinary sacrifice, courage and heroism, summoned our collective voices to demand that those brave souls still out there be given all the necessary protection they deserve and recompensed for their deeds.
We hollered when we were told about the amounts being shelled out for the hospitalization of a COVID-19 patient; it could bankrupt any family outside of the mega rich. We prayed for those left behind and together with them shared the stories of their loved ones—their trials and joys and the memories they left behind. It is to them and to all those who, in this time of crisis, are reminded of the value of family, friends, sharing, loving and communities at peace with one another and with our Creator that I have decided to print in this column a very moving Facebook post of a daughter about the loss of her father to COVID-19. Here goes:
"They say that when you finally face your greatest fear, it's not what you expect of it. My greatest fear was always to lose a parent, and they were right. It was at least ten times more painful than I imagined, and it's a pain I wouldn't wish on even my worst enemy. My dad had a cough. He had himself checked at the hospital but was sent home at the start of the lockdown. He isolated himself. The cough didn't get better. The last time I saw my dad was before he went for another checkup, when they already found traces of pneumonia in his lungs and he needed to be confined. There were no available hospital beds in Manila, so I asked all of our doctor friends where he could be admitted. The only one we found was way out of Manila in Southern Luzon and we needed to act fast. He was at risk of losing the bed if we didn't go immediately, so even if he wanted to get clothes and some other things at home, we rushed to the hospital. We did not even had time to say goodbye and we didn't think we had to anyway."
"Everything escalated quickly. Just a day after, the pneumonia spread. He was intubated and had to be transferred to the ICU. We were all observing isolation at home, so even though I cried and prayed, we couldn't hug or comfort each other as a family. We couldn't visit him, so we were updated by my dad's doctors about his condition through calls or text. My mom had to be admitted not long after due to an inflammation in her lungs, but by some miracle we were able to get a bed in one of the hospitals in Metro Manila. The house started to feel like a prison cell, empty and abandoned. Our subdivision had necessary protocols that we understood, but it also felt like we were modern-day lepers. We felt alone and surrounded by darkness. We couldn't eat or sleep and our version of good news was hearing that our Dad's vital signs were stable (not better, just not worse) which would buy some time for rest and sleep. Waking up was the hardest part. We had a Viber group with relatives in the medical field, who we are very grateful for. So we'd wake up to my Dad's lung X-rays, which they'd explain were clouded and showed incurable pneumonia. It just kept getting worse, and they started telling us to prepare for the worst, that any time his organs could fail. The sound of text alerts became traumatizing, because they rarely brought us any good news."
"Early morning of April 1, my brother called us. Dad had gone into cardiac arrest. It was hard to grasp the loss, or to mourn, because there wasn't any closure. We couldn't say goodbye because we didn't see him. The most painful things for me were knowing that my Dad was alone when he left us, and that my Mom had to be alone in a hospital room when she found out he had died. But even though this disease is sad and literally isolating, as we grieve, my eyes are opened to miracles."
“I saw God's kindness in the moments of relief—the times we did get to rest, the small moments of joy with my sister, being able to celebrate my younger brother's birthday without our parents with some pizza and cake, knowing that we have friends and family who helped without us having to ask twice, if at all. I saw God's leadership in my brother. My kuya stepped up for our family, and I am so proud of him. He made a way for everything: from getting the last vial of medication that was out of stock everywhere just so my Dad could have a chance, to making sure my Dad knew we got the best team of doctors to care for him. It's because of him that I know we did everything we could for my Dad. "
"I saw God's humor in the creative ways we were able to be there for my Dad. We felt that though we were face to face with the enemy, we were smarter. We made a list of nurses who were friendly and we would call during their shifts. My Dad couldn't speak because he was intubated, but we'd ask the nurses to put us on speaker phone so my dearest Daddy could hear us. It's one of my favorite memories of this time, that we got to show him how we loved him in his last moments and that we were fighting for him."
"I saw that faith and the human spirit can't be quarantined. We all prayed the Rosary for my dad every evening and had groups of people dedicating their intentions for his recovery. My little brother was even praying the rosary three times a day. My twin sister who has her walls when it comes to faith, said isusugal niya lahat and chose to believe in the smallest of chances, even if the results turned out to be the worst they'd been telling us to prepare for."
"I saw God's provision in acts of immeasurable kindness. We saw on the news that some families received their loved ones' remains in plastic bags, and the thought of that happening to my Dad broke me. One of my friends had access to multiple checkpoints and offered to take me to the hospital. I was the only family member lucky enough to see my Dad's body through the window before he was cremated and to say goodbye. I got to, like he used to do for me, pick him up and take him home."
"I saw God's healing and strength in my mother. She overcame the sickness, and is stronger than ever. With her recovery, it feels like our family is also resurrected, because we are rising up in the most badass way. Lastly, I saw God's compassion in reading accounts of other people who have gone through this. It's all so similar to what we experienced, and it made me realize that even if it's a sickness that makes you feel like you are alone, YOU ARE NOT. It tells you how seriously we should be taking this illness. I've seen it up close. It's not a joke, it's strong and it's serious, and it's killing people.
“Not only government but all of us should take this more seriously, kasi wala siyang pinipiling tao. If you are able to help in anyway, to protect our frontliners and to give to families who are in need, please do."
"If nothing else, this experience has taught me that my worst day with God is still better than my best day without Him. God specializes in resurrection. He takes our mourning and turns it into dancing. He takes a grave and turns it into a garden. He gives beauty in exchange for ashes. He is the hope to the hopeless. I may have lost faith at some points in my journey, even at one point asking ‘My God, why have you forsaken me?’ but I saw what it could do to others who chose to believe at any cost. My only prayer is that I never forget on my best day that I still need God as desperately as I did on my worst. Full of hope from Christ’s resurrection at Easter even in these dark times, I know we will be out of this crisis soon. In the meantime, please stay safe and healthy. God Bless Us All.”