It's been four years my old man. I could choose this day to grieve yet again but I'm sure you'd think that's ridiculous. Thing is, I imagine you drunk on honey in paradise right now and you would not want your little girl going boohoo over missing you.
So you missed a lot Papa. I recently got married. You met him. Remember the dude with the folded jeans and slippers who painstakingly spoke to you in Kankana-ey during our visit last December? He takes care of me right now. Ralph has two little handsome Bretts. Tonette's doing awesome with her family and their business is doing well. And Mama, well Mama is aging beautifully.
You passed away leaving us, your children, with heavy hearts. We were grief-stricken because you left a void and more so because of this self-imposed guilt of not being to do more for you when we could have had. I truly believed there was a lot of time to create great memories with you after we'll get over the unfortunate events that we were all undergoing that time. Yet I overlooked the fact that life is fleeting and that we are here on borrowed time.
It will still take time for me to completely forgive myself. During these inescapable times of self-loathing when I tend to get too hard on myself for not being a better daughter to you, I drift off by flooding my mind with happy memories of you. It's the best I can do.
Remember how we stayed up all night while you quizzed me on almost everything? I was in awe with your vast (drunken yet reliable) knowledge of the arts and sciences, logic and religion. Those nights made me want to know every little thing. I didn't want to be mediocre next to your wisdom. It exasperated me to the point of tears when I didn't know an answer to your questions. You and Mama laughed at my helplessness and obvious frustration because in my young mind, knowing stuff was the answer to everything. I had to know!
You were so good in Math even Antonette conceded that there were problems so complex that only your explanations can make her comprehend. No wonder your good grasp with figures and probabilities transcended to your dexterity with playing cards. We spent those rainy days cooped inside the house testing our foxiness with pusoy dos and tong-its. Man you were clever! But I got to be even better. Ha!
You made me love Scrabble and word games as you further encouraged me to love books. This was a passion I thought I got from Ralph but which I think he got from you as well. You stayed in that cushion-less couch with a mug of black coffee and a thick paperback of Robert Ludlum. I tried emulating this very scene by isolating myself in my room with loads of junkies and an even higher stack of hardbound Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew. (I still squint over my glasses when bent like a fetus over a book nowadays.) You scoffed when I explored the Jude Deverauxs and Danielle Steeles during my early adolescent and I argued that at least those weren't Precious Hearts Tagalog novelettes.
Mama saved all the comic strip sections of the dailies for you because it had those mind-benders that you loved. It always stumped me how you could easily fill out all those crossword boxes with words I never imagined existed. I never forgot this so remember that time you got confined at the hospital? My first thought was to bring you a book of crossword puzzles because I know how dull and lifeless those white walls are. You lit up when I gave it to you as you naughtily requested for a pack of cigarettes!
I loved it when you cooked. You were sloppy in the kitchen but your dishes were bestsellers. They were always restaurant-quality next to Mama's 'nilambong'. I can still remember your home-made longganiza. Those we hang on the clothesline that soon attracted gazillions of flies so I occupied myself by shooing away those insects hour after hour. The reward was consecutive lunch 'baons' of tasty longganiza! A far cry from the usual scrambled eggs.
You never questioned my choices and decisions--whether it came to academics, beliefs and even boys. Although I can clearly recall those arched brows when you silently disapproved of something. And when you more than disapproved, you tried to dissuade me in that funny Kankana-ey of yours. It was so crooked you cannot have me convinced (that or I was just that hardheaded). You put so much faith and trust in me. Too much maybe that you gave me more credit than I deserved.
You knew very well how to handle my tantrums so it's no wonder I instinctively looked for you during that one dramatic and traumatic moment that I badly needed to cry my heart out to no one else but you. But don't worry, someone's doing a good job about that right now. I've been very blessed with a man who took all of me without question. You would have loved him. Just like I know you love your additional children, Kuya James and Ate Joann. Mama's prayers in that department were surely answered. We're all in good hands.
A lot of people will probably remember you as this drunken chap who was always unfailingly present in places where there was an abundance of the liquid poison. I cannot blame them because that's what you showed. But Daddy, this is how I choose to remember you.
You with your wisdom. You with your crooked sense of humor. How you carried me on your lap while you drove that 4x4. How we would take unplanned trips to Chico River under the pretext of washing the car but just so I could swim there and have this slice of cake at the famous downtown bakeshop right after. How you made me embrace knowledge. How you were so good with the guitar. How you put so much faith in us, your children. How you were so proud of us. Even when we failed you. For that, I will forever be sorry. Forgive me Daddy. I'm sorry.
It is your birthday today. If circumstances would have allowed us, you should be blowing 56 candles and we would be toasting with a bottle of homemade 'bugnay' wine or brandy (I go for brandy, haha!). Your grandkids should be singing the happy birthday song for you. But I'm sure the angels up there are doing a chorus.
And so it's been four years. We miss you. I miss you. And we'll continue to do so till we meet each other again. But I pray not soon. We'll try to live out these dreams we have and we pray you'll be with us every step of the way. Till then.
With love, too much love,
Your Baby Girl
So you missed a lot Papa. I recently got married. You met him. Remember the dude with the folded jeans and slippers who painstakingly spoke to you in Kankana-ey during our visit last December? He takes care of me right now. Ralph has two little handsome Bretts. Tonette's doing awesome with her family and their business is doing well. And Mama, well Mama is aging beautifully.
You passed away leaving us, your children, with heavy hearts. We were grief-stricken because you left a void and more so because of this self-imposed guilt of not being to do more for you when we could have had. I truly believed there was a lot of time to create great memories with you after we'll get over the unfortunate events that we were all undergoing that time. Yet I overlooked the fact that life is fleeting and that we are here on borrowed time.
It will still take time for me to completely forgive myself. During these inescapable times of self-loathing when I tend to get too hard on myself for not being a better daughter to you, I drift off by flooding my mind with happy memories of you. It's the best I can do.
Remember how we stayed up all night while you quizzed me on almost everything? I was in awe with your vast (drunken yet reliable) knowledge of the arts and sciences, logic and religion. Those nights made me want to know every little thing. I didn't want to be mediocre next to your wisdom. It exasperated me to the point of tears when I didn't know an answer to your questions. You and Mama laughed at my helplessness and obvious frustration because in my young mind, knowing stuff was the answer to everything. I had to know!
You were so good in Math even Antonette conceded that there were problems so complex that only your explanations can make her comprehend. No wonder your good grasp with figures and probabilities transcended to your dexterity with playing cards. We spent those rainy days cooped inside the house testing our foxiness with pusoy dos and tong-its. Man you were clever! But I got to be even better. Ha!
You made me love Scrabble and word games as you further encouraged me to love books. This was a passion I thought I got from Ralph but which I think he got from you as well. You stayed in that cushion-less couch with a mug of black coffee and a thick paperback of Robert Ludlum. I tried emulating this very scene by isolating myself in my room with loads of junkies and an even higher stack of hardbound Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew. (I still squint over my glasses when bent like a fetus over a book nowadays.) You scoffed when I explored the Jude Deverauxs and Danielle Steeles during my early adolescent and I argued that at least those weren't Precious Hearts Tagalog novelettes.
Mama saved all the comic strip sections of the dailies for you because it had those mind-benders that you loved. It always stumped me how you could easily fill out all those crossword boxes with words I never imagined existed. I never forgot this so remember that time you got confined at the hospital? My first thought was to bring you a book of crossword puzzles because I know how dull and lifeless those white walls are. You lit up when I gave it to you as you naughtily requested for a pack of cigarettes!
I loved it when you cooked. You were sloppy in the kitchen but your dishes were bestsellers. They were always restaurant-quality next to Mama's 'nilambong'. I can still remember your home-made longganiza. Those we hang on the clothesline that soon attracted gazillions of flies so I occupied myself by shooing away those insects hour after hour. The reward was consecutive lunch 'baons' of tasty longganiza! A far cry from the usual scrambled eggs.
You never questioned my choices and decisions--whether it came to academics, beliefs and even boys. Although I can clearly recall those arched brows when you silently disapproved of something. And when you more than disapproved, you tried to dissuade me in that funny Kankana-ey of yours. It was so crooked you cannot have me convinced (that or I was just that hardheaded). You put so much faith and trust in me. Too much maybe that you gave me more credit than I deserved.
You knew very well how to handle my tantrums so it's no wonder I instinctively looked for you during that one dramatic and traumatic moment that I badly needed to cry my heart out to no one else but you. But don't worry, someone's doing a good job about that right now. I've been very blessed with a man who took all of me without question. You would have loved him. Just like I know you love your additional children, Kuya James and Ate Joann. Mama's prayers in that department were surely answered. We're all in good hands.
A lot of people will probably remember you as this drunken chap who was always unfailingly present in places where there was an abundance of the liquid poison. I cannot blame them because that's what you showed. But Daddy, this is how I choose to remember you.
You with your wisdom. You with your crooked sense of humor. How you carried me on your lap while you drove that 4x4. How we would take unplanned trips to Chico River under the pretext of washing the car but just so I could swim there and have this slice of cake at the famous downtown bakeshop right after. How you made me embrace knowledge. How you were so good with the guitar. How you put so much faith in us, your children. How you were so proud of us. Even when we failed you. For that, I will forever be sorry. Forgive me Daddy. I'm sorry.
It is your birthday today. If circumstances would have allowed us, you should be blowing 56 candles and we would be toasting with a bottle of homemade 'bugnay' wine or brandy (I go for brandy, haha!). Your grandkids should be singing the happy birthday song for you. But I'm sure the angels up there are doing a chorus.
And so it's been four years. We miss you. I miss you. And we'll continue to do so till we meet each other again. But I pray not soon. We'll try to live out these dreams we have and we pray you'll be with us every step of the way. Till then.
With love, too much love,
Your Baby Girl