chapter 5

I had to face it—the truth that Grandpa would leave me within the next eight days. Acceptance weighed heavy on my heart. I never anticipated this farewell. He wouldn't witness my proudest moment—the day I received my degree. Grandpa had dreamed of that milestone, day and night. But now, he was slipping away.

"Hey, strong man," I said, offering mango juice. I masked my sadness, not wanting him to worry. "Would you like some?"

"Yes, I would love some," he replied, accepting the glass. I sat by his side, locking eyes with the man who had shaped my world.

"I'm going to miss you, Grandpa," I confessed, tears escaping.

He chuckled. "Don't you love me anymore?"

"Of course, I love you," I choked out. "I don't want you to go."

"But, Patric," he said gently, "if you truly loved me, you'd find joy in this. I'm headed to a better place—the embrace of the blessed virgin and her son. You should be happy. What better destination for your beloved ones than heaven?"

"But what about me, Grandpa?" I whispered. "What will I do after you're gone?"

"God will care for you, my child," he assured. "Don't make the mistake of denying His existence. When you heal others, remember it's His grace, not just your knowledge."

"Grandpa," I ventured, "have you ever regretted anything? Any patients lost, or hardships faced?"

He paused, choosing his words. "By God's grace, no patient has slipped away under my care. But I do have one regret."

"What is it?"

"When your mother passed away," he said softly, "that was my darkest hour. Among all my children, she held a special place in my heart. I loved her more than words can express. And I hoped she'd become a better doctor than me. But she chose a different path—law."

His regret hung in the air, a poignant reminder that life's choices shape our destinies.

I respected her choice, even though it left me unhappy. Clara pursued law, and I allowed her that path. But during her final year, she veered off course—an affair with your father. Back then, I disapproved. Octavio and I tried to separate them, but love had its own stubborn way. They married, and even after the wedding, Octavio continued his futile efforts. Two years into their marriage, Clara became pregnant. We surrendered.

Why your father abandoned you both remains a mystery. But when you first arrived at this house, I glimpsed the brokenness in your mother's eyes—the love she still held for him. That moment, I regretted opposing their union. If I had accepted their relationship, if I had acknowledged their marriage, perhaps things would have been different today. Your mother might still be alive, and their marriage would have blossomed as she dreamed."

"Grandpa," I asked, "do you know where my dad might be?"

"Your mother's diary and some data are in my office," he replied. "I'll show you later, son."

"Sure, Grandpa."

"Could you fetch me some honey from the kitchen?" he requested.

"Of course, Grandpa. Just give me two minutes."

I tried to lighten the mood. "Dr. Sebastian Sanderman, here's your honey," I said playfully. But there was no response.

"Wake up, Grandpa," I pleaded. Panic surged. "This isn't a joke. Stop this charade. Grandpa, please!" But silence persisted. His chest remained still. Fear gripped me as I realized he was gone.

For an hour, I couldn't think straight. He had left—just like that. Forever. The weight of eternity pressed down. "Grandpa!" I shouted, tears streaming. His body grew cold, and I clung to the memories—the laughter, the wisdom, the love. But he was gone, leaving an ache that echoed through my soul.

Many Years Later

Today is my birthday, and I can hardly believe I'm turning 40. The journey so far has been both amazing and utterly exhausting. Life taught me that nothing is guaranteed—not even the air we breathe. We wake each morning by chance, not certainty.

After graduating from UST, Carlos secured a scholarship to pursue his master's degree in the USA. He's there now, making his mark. As for me, I earned my master's degree, specializing in cancer. I'm now an oncologist, serving my country. I've achieved what I set out to do. But now, my focus shifts to a lifelong question: Where is my father? Is he alive or gone?

This morning, I visited our old house—the place where my grandparents lived. It's been locked up since that fateful day. I remember it well: Grandpa asked for honey, and before he could taste its sweetness, he left. I was just an intern then, clueless and helpless. Stepping into the house today, memories flooded back—the sweet years spent with my grandfather. His absence weighed heavily. I used to think my mother's departure was the hardest blow, but Grandpa's absence is unbearable. Carlos has been my rock, and Octavio and his wife visited me a few times.

But today, I'm determined. Dust clung to the walls of Grandpa's office. I blew away the cobwebs, sifting through documents. His final words echoed: "Your mother's diary and some data are collected in my office."

And there it was—a clue. Ethiopia. The evidence pointed to a specific place. "Ethiopia," I exclaimed, my heart racing. Could this be the key to finding my father?