Facing my first Father’s Day without my beloved Dad

Vaimoana and her dad, Puniloa Auatama Tapaleao, on her graduation day in 2008.

Every year on Father’s Day morning, my mum would send me out into the garden to pick flowers to make a buttonhole for my dad to wear to church.

One year, I tried to add a huge calla lily to the arrangement and almost copped a slap. Dad and I laughed so hard. He was willing to wear it, but Mum wasn’t having it.

I lost my old man, Puniloa Auatama Tapaleao, in February after the cancer he fought six years ago suddenly came back. He was 69.

I grew up in a home full of laughter, music, love and joy because of this man. I thought that to be happy was to be normal because of him.

I don’t know how others cope after losing someone so close, but random things bring me comfort.

Dad’s good shoes are still where he last left them - in the boot of his car, now my car. So is the tie he wore to church the last time.

Puniloa Auatama Tapaleao died in February. He was in his 70th year. Photo / Supplied

Dark humour has also been good, especially when people drop lines like: “One day at a time”. No kidding, that’s how time works.

It’s hard hearing the word “Dad”, knowing I can’t use it without referring to the past. The week after he died, I kept mixing up the tenses - Dad is, sorry, was.

Since then, the people I find easiest to talk to are those who have lost a parent - specifically a father. They have shared their struggles with me.

The person who still feels guilt because they didn’t get to say goodbye. The one who could not go back to work for almost a year the grief was so intense.

The year of firsts

Someone else said the hardest thing for them was the year of firsts - the first Mother’s Day, the first Christmas, her first child.

The most significant first for me happened on Friday. It was my birthday.

The timing of my birthday always made it a busy weekend in our house, as sometimes it fell on Father’s Day.

I’d wake up to the sizzling sound and smoky, delicious smell of bacon coming from the kitchen, as Mum made sure to spoil us on those special Father’s Day / birthday years.

The first Sunday of September is also special in that it marks the arrival of Christianity, also known as the good news (Talalelei) in Samoa in 1830.

Puniloa Tapaleao and his daughter Moana, now a Herald journalist.

To celebrate, church congregations come together to sing hymns taught especially for this day (pese o le Talalelei). Dad was a talented pianist, songwriter and composer and nearly always taught this song. I haven’t been to a choir practice since he died.

I didn’t want to celebrate my birthday this year. No cake. No song. Just a visit to Dad’s grave.

It’s the impossible that I really want. To see him again. To hear one more lame dad joke (he was the king), his voice, laugh or have one last coffee and conversation.

Even to get one of his random phone calls, while I’m at work, asking: “Moana, fea le remote?” (Where’s the remote?) Just to make me laugh.

Father’s Day will be a big deal at church today. A hearty breakfast will be served - something my Dad absolutely loved. His smiling photo will join the memorial table for the first time.

I know many people will spend Father’s Day at the cemetery today.

I still plan to get up early - to sizzle up some bacon for Mum and to gather flowers from the garden to make a buttonhole for Dad.

I’ll lay those flowers on his grave, no doubt fighting back tears, but forever grateful to God for the man who raised me. One day at a time, as they say.

Vaimoana Mase is the Pasifika editor for the Herald’s Talanoa section, sharing stories from the Pacific community. She won junior reporter of the year at the then Qantas Media Awards in 2010 and won the best opinion writing award at the 2023 Voyager Media Awards.