Here is my story as my tribute to a dearly beloved father on Father’s Day.

When my father died, I was overcome with guilt that I hadn't been with him. Then he came to me in a dream...

After he stopped working as a consultant in a company, my dad tried to stay healthy and active. Each morning, until the weather turned too cold, he would wake up ahead of every one to prepare our breakfast and water the plants in the garden.

By his late eighties, he accidentally tripped on an electrical cord in his bedroom which fractured his left femur. He had to undergo orthopedic surgery and everything went well. But because of his age, my dad had noticeably dwindled in strength and energy.

By age ninety one, he was unable to move around anymore even with his walker or cane. All he could do by then was to sit in a chair beside his bed. He depended a lot on my mom, who is eighteen years his junior, for his personal needs and this made him feel depressed. Every time I would visit him I pretended not to notice. His mind was clear, but his disabling arthritis had worn him down. One day he said to my mom, "In case of an emergency I do not wish to be kept alive by any extraordinary means and I want to be cremated." " He smiled his wonderful, broad grin and said, "I've been blessed to have had reached this age and to have you as my wife for 57 years and see my three children all doing well so I'm ready to go."

In less than a week later, my mom called to say that daddy was coughing so I asked the maid to come over to the hospital to get the medicines prescribed by the doctor. I was in a meeting with my staff when suddenly, a jolt shook me and I felt my heart stop beating. It was at this instance when my secretary peeped at the door of my office to tell me the maid was on the phone. "Oh, my God," I said. "Something terrible happened to Daddy. I felt it!" I jumped up, then called the Emergency Room for an ambulance.

When I got to his bedroom, I saw him still sitting on the bed with my mom beside him. I hugged my mom tightly and asked her what happened and she said that he was trying to cough out a sticky phlegm when he suddenly choked and stopped breathing. I then hugged and kissed my dad and laid him down in bed.

While waiting for the funeral parlor car, I started to think that it had seemed to me that this beloved man could never die. He had been such a solid, loving presence in my life. In spite of his age, my heart refused to believe he died so suddenly. I raged inside, believing I had let my dad down by not being at his side. I could have gone to see him when mommy called and personally check on him but I didn’t. I could have held his hand and told him of my love as he had passed on. That's the way it should have been, my inner critic scolded. You should have told him how much you loved him, as he had always told you. You should have been there for him. It would have meant a lot to him. That's what you should have done! And I felt the relentless heaviness of guilt mingled with grief.

Knowing I'd been an attentive and loving daughter wasn't enough as the months and years wore on. Nothing made a dent in my stubborn conviction that I hadn't been there when he'd needed me the most.

Now a dream has set me free.

After 4 years, my father came to visit me in a dream and tell me his side of the story:

You know I worked long past retirement age, and when my knees just couldn't carry me anymore, I felt disgraced by being so weak. Most of all, I never wanted you to see me as a helpless old man dying in a hospital bed. It would have hurt too much to have you there. So I'm telling you the truth, my darling daughter: I know you loved me as I loved you. And I did not want you there at my death, and I did not want you holding my hand when I died. That was what you wanted, not what I wanted. My death was perfect, just the way it was. There are two sides to everything - even death.