Assuring dad

You were giving my car a complete wash the other day. I watched your face as you wiped off the excess water on the windshield with your chamois yellow cloth.

Somehow, at 53, you still managed to look like you’re 40. Maybe it’s your outlook in life. Or maybe it’s your constant smile. There’s not a single strand of white hair on your head, yet I have lots. Undoubtedly you’re one of the gentlest of souls I’ve met in my entire life.

I am able to love simply because you taught me how.


I am able to forgive simply because you reminded me not to let anger cloud my judgement towards someone.


I remember when I was seven. You were trying to teach me a lesson about mom. At 7, people made me understand that mom left us choosing her love for her career over her love for us. But you constantly told me, “do not plant anger in your heart. It will grow a very ugly tree. And it will never bear fruit.”

You understood what happened between the two of you, and admitted that if only someone gave you both sound advise, you would probably still be together. You understood simply because you were able to place yourself in her shoes. You were able to see both sides of the coin.

But amidst your wisdom on loving, I knew that you feared a lot of things: that I’d choose her over you or that I’d run towards her one day and leave you alone to die old. When she came back to bring me to the US, you fought hard not to let me go. You were ready to shed blood just to fight that I may stay. I knew you to be a jealous dad. You’re selfish of attention, as I am towards you.


You feared of losing me.

All these years, you’ve never negated any of my decisions. I can go in and out of the house without a single fuss even as a kid. It was your way of apologizing for feeling quite helpless as I struggle to keep scholarships. And now, it was your way of thanking me for supporting my half brothers’ schooling.

I’ve always wanted to hear you say no when I wanted to do something. But you’d always say that you trust me to be responsible. But I see it in your eyes how you wanted to say no. Your fear of me getting hurt. Your fear of me not being able to go back home to you.


The same look I saw when I told you I was to see my mom this Wednesday at the airport. I was to see her after twenty years.

I saw your facial muscles tense up, helplessly trying not to be transparent.

I knew you were going to be jealous.


Don’t be.


Because a child knows the hand that raised him.


A child will always be thankful for his father’s guiding hand, the hand that fed him, the hand that lovingly disciplined him, the hand that patted him on the back, the hand that pulled him to a warm embrace.


I know your sacrifices, your battles, your hardships and of your ability to love. Nothing would be able to make me forget all those things. No amount in this world would make me ungrateful for all the things that you’ve done for me.

I’m meeting mom, because again, you taught me well. She didn’t have the chance to fill in the stiletto shoes that you’ve tried to wear with much dread. I’m simply giving her the chance to be the mom that she is, and myself for being that child who longed for an iPad a mother’s love.

Do not fear. She will never be able to fill in 28 years of your hard work.

No one shall be able to replace you.


So wipe off that worried look on your weird face.


Just like what the dragon warrior Po learned when he returned to his duck of a dad.


That after all our battles in life, I’d come home.


Still your son.


And you, my dad.

Kuha mo?

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Oh and BTW, Happy father’s day.

 
 
image from here.