I had been back to church twice at this point, once being the Christmas mass and the second being last week. Not sure how much it counts, as it was entirely in Tagalog, but this week was different.
I was zoning out during the homily at some point, and thinking of Father Cima's legendary ones, but when it came time to say Our Father, I thought of my father. It's not often I do, but I realized one thing.
This was my first time in church without him. Without my family. I'm by no means homesick, but I almost teared up when referring to my father, who art in heaven. My father was both boisterous and absurdly quiet. He could go without a peep, but cut a monstrous figure of respect. We weren't the typical kids you saw running around the pews during mass.
I can still see him seated at mass, in my head of course. Somewhat of a heavy breather, and always with the same beard that itched you when you got too close, but provided stability and warmth from a distance.
Hallowed be his name.
I was zoning out during the homily at some point, and thinking of Father Cima's legendary ones, but when it came time to say Our Father, I thought of my father. It's not often I do, but I realized one thing.
This was my first time in church without him. Without my family. I'm by no means homesick, but I almost teared up when referring to my father, who art in heaven. My father was both boisterous and absurdly quiet. He could go without a peep, but cut a monstrous figure of respect. We weren't the typical kids you saw running around the pews during mass.
I can still see him seated at mass, in my head of course. Somewhat of a heavy breather, and always with the same beard that itched you when you got too close, but provided stability and warmth from a distance.
Hallowed be his name.