He was 58

He was a smoker, and a body full of smoke he will always smell.
He was a gambler, and at the race course will he always be remembered.
He lived a life of a vagabond, and a vagabond he will always be remembered.
He was a lousy man, and in our hearts that is what he will always be.
He was 58, and at 58 will he always stay...

The man I'm talking about is my father, WAS my father. He passed on today.

I've never had a good relationship with my father. I knew what kind of person he was and I was never on his side. I could never understand why mum married him. I could never understand how he could do all those things he did and still forgave himself. I could never understand how he managed to live a life like that, for 58 years.

Mum, brother and I shifted away from him nearly 5 years ago. And 5 years was how long I didn't see him. But wen we were all still living under the same roof, we were already never a family. Back then, I did though of the 'what if's' before. What if I get married? Will I inform him? What if he falls really sick, on sick bed? Will I go see him? What if he died? I never thought I would had to experience any of that so soon, but now I am. I never expected myself to cry, but I did. I never expected myself to be sad, but I am.

My father was never really a father nor a husband to us. He was as useless as can be. All the pain and suffering he made us go through. Never on our side, but on he wrong side, the side that was out to hurt us. And now, he is dead, and I am here blogging about it. I don't even know what was the cause of his death, nor is there a wake for him. Are we suppose to hold the wake? Or are his family members doing it? Do they want us to claim his body? Or have they shunned us away, disowned us?

I'm actually sadden by the fact that he was so pitiful. Dying alone. Not having family with him. The only memory he have of us are the 2 pictures of my brother and I when we were 7 or 8 kept in his wallet. He made himself like that and I know pitying him is not worth it but I just can't help it. He IS my father after all.

I wonder, would he had passed on so early if we were not in this 'war'? Would he had finally changed and realized his wrongs and have another 10-20 years to live it?

Everything happens for a reason, and the only thing good he did for us next to giving us life was after he died. Because of his death, mum and I are talking again, after 3 weeks. We are hearing from my brother more often now. And the best thing, mum talked to the boyfriend today. Good manners and all. No black sulky face. No sarcasm. Looks like she is slowly giving it a try. Maybe she went to see a fortune teller by herself without me knowing, or maybe after what I told her the day we fought finally knocked some sense into her thick skull. But anyhow, I'm glad it happened. And by my father passing on is not all bad. In case he don't need to suffer living in this life of his anymore. He is finally free and hopefully he will be a better person in his next life to come.

God bless him. Thank you for saving my father.