SweetSimpleJoys

It was D’s birthday when we found out that we were going to have a baby boy. D, naturally, became a beaming expectant father.

During the whole ordeal at the hospital where I gave birth, D was constantly on his feet, answering to every errand the doctors and other hospital staff asked him to do. I was, for the most part, lying in bed, still recovering from my C-section operation, while Liam was at the NICU, fighting for his dear life.

Nothing inconvenienced D; he didn’t mind going back and forth, to and fro, or running up and down the flight of stairs when the elevator was taking too long; he would promptly jump from his sleep even at the wee hours of the morning; he would skip eating. All these in an effort to help keep our little boy alive.

He would also spend time beside me, making sure that I was okay and that I had everything I need.

Sometimes, he would rest his tired feet, straighten his aching back and doze off so he would have another round of energy when the doctors beckon him.

But D’s shinning moment, which reflected how he would have become a great father, was when it was time for Liam’s remains to be brought to the morgue. The morgue’s custodian placed his small precious body (wrapped in cloth like a mummy), inside an uncovered box and was about to march down to the morgue when D stopped him. He couldn’t bear to see his son being carried down like a dead dog. He ran back to my room and asked if I have anything that he can use as a cover. I gave him the hooded blanket that we were supposed to use to receive Liam.

He initially intended to just cover the box, but a father’s heart was aching inside his chest, telling him that his child’s body should be handled with love and respect. So with the blanket, he wrapped Liam’s body and very gently, he held his head, placed it close to his shoulder and carried him as if he were alive.

They passed by alleys with people looking at him with different reactions. Some were scared and mortified knowing he was carrying a dead body. Some were shocked. But there were some who were symphatetic and looked at him admiringly because they understood why he was doing what he was doing. He didn’t care what they were thinking of.

“It’s one of the very few things I can do for him now that he’s gone,” he said “to show him that I’m his father and that I love him very much, even if it means carrying his body to the morgue.” He added that at that moment, he felt every inch a father.