A Goodbye from a Departed

Tales of my Father - Part 6
(narrated in the first person as told to us by my father)

I grew up very close to my grandfather, Tatay Melecio. When I was still 8 years old, I used to go with him everywhere he goes, may it on his fishing trips, his farming or his visits to the market. And he used to tell me long, believe-it-or not tales, about persons with supernatural powers and encounters with the other kind.

He’s not really the recluse or the mystical kind who barely talks to anyone or move objects telekinetically. He’s quite talkative to me and to the other kids. And he said he knew some Latin chants to counter the works of evil magic. He had no magical object either except for his pipe which he considered as his lucky charm. At seventy, he’s still strong and healthy.

In one of our conversations one day, we talked about death. We made a promise to each other that whoever dies first should at least say goodbye to the one left behind. I had no qualms about it, so I hastily agreed. I was still a child then not knowing how it would happen.

More than 20 years had passed. I was already married with kids, worked and lived in the city. One night, after a very tiring work, I immediately went to sleep. And there in my sleep, I felt a sudden slap of a very cold air. Then a voice, very audible to me, said, “Boy, I’ll go ahead. Goodbye!” I felt the stiffness of my body. I can’t even move my hands. But the voice is clearly that of Tatay Melecio. My thoughts immediately brought me back to the scene where Tatay and I made the promise.

I immediately got back my reflexes and I woke up like I had a nightmare without the screams. It was already 5am. My wife got up a few minutes after. I told her that Tatay died already.

“How did you know?” she asked.

“Tatay spoke to me in my sleep.”

She was clearly puzzled but didn’t ask further questions. I also informed my mother about it. She was shocked and even scolded me. “How can you say that about your grandfather? You haven’t even seen him in months.”

“Yeah, I know he’s bed-ridden. But believe me. Vivian (a cousin who took care of Tatay), will come this morning and inform us. I’ll call the other grandchildren when I arrive at the office.”

Indeed, three hours after, my cousin arrived and brought the sad news. My wife and my mother just looked at each other, still puzzled at how I was able to know about Tatay’s death.

Parts 1-5 here.