I spent the entire All Saint’s Day at home. I don’t usually go cemetery-hopping to honor and pray for the dead, since I don’t have a relative’s grave nearby to go to in the first place!
My dad, a fighter pilot, was presumed to have died at sea in the vicinity of the Palawan Islands. This was were his plane was assumed to have crashed on March 16th of 1983. After a few years of searching, the government wasn’t really able to pinpoint where his plane went. And so his “Missing-in-Action” status was finally changed to “Presumed Dead” five years after that fateful day.
We would have loved to have given him a proper burial. And I understand and empathize with people who cry barrels-full of tears at funerals, especially coming from the departed’s next of kin. Well, at least they get to see their dad finally rested. And I guess this is why, for so many years, I hated going to cemeteries and “envied” people who partake of the yearly tradition.
It’s a good thing Conne and CJ were able to keep me company at home. I had them all to myself. Oh well, I can always try the graveyard rounds next year. This year is for praying at home.