One of my fondest memories growing up was seeing my dad reading the Bible in the morning. With a steaming cup of coffee beside him, he would religiously pore over the day's readings and gospel. Then, he would read the reflection written on the Didache, a daily reflection booklet which contained stories and narrations of how one person related the readings to his/her daily lives. And my mom? She would be hovering around, sometimes preparing our breakfast, sometimes joining my dad at the table. She would have her own daily reflection in the afternoon, when everything has been done and quieted down.
But everything changed when my mom passed away.
It stopped abruptly, as fast as her death, it was sudden.
Nowadays, my father doesn't go to Church, doesn't read the Bible, doesn't participate in any Church activities. Prior to my mother's death, he was an active member of Couples for Christ. My parents were leaders, "elders" in their parlance, and were always giving talks and holding prayer meetings almost every night of the week, excluding the weekend gatherings to give praise and listen to another round of talks. I guessed that when my mom died, Dad lost his faith and fervor because I knew he only asked for one thing when everything was about to go down: to keep Mama alive, whatever it takes.
People can't have everything and God doesn't easily grant wishes. Sometimes I wondered if my lost faith and fervor were because of Mama's death. Why pray when there's uncertainty? Why pray when there's pain? I'm not too sure. But for today. there's only one thing I know: I haven't touched a Bible until now.