Daddy's Girl
I don't really know if I should do this. Just the thought of blogging about my dad makes me cry, and I haven't even started yet. Have I lost it? I guess I'm just about to.And why my father? Well, since his latest burden (some people might read this, and the burden I'm talking about is very private- can't let anyone else know) occurred, I felt that he finally realize that he can talk to us, to his kids; to me. And this occurrence led him to opening up and becoming comfortable around us. No more lies, no more secrets between us, between him and I. Isn't that great? But why only now? Why not long time ago? Why not in the beginning when we were still young?
He was an only child growing up in a city known for the hustle and bustle. My grandmother worked at a publishing company in Manila. I never really knew my grandfather because my dad was young when he passed away. But one thing is for certain: their family is messed up, too. What I remember is that my grandfather cheated, big time. My cousin told me that while he and my grandma were sleeping in the living room, my grandpa was upstairs with the 'other one'. Sucks, doesn't it? But such is life, especially way back when men dominated the household and wives don't have any power to speak up.
It probably stuck in his head that what he saw that night was normal, because unfortunately he also cheated on my mom numerous times. You'll never dare want to mess with my mom but for whatever reason she never did anything to stop my dad from doing so. She passed away 11 years ago, and obviously I will never know why and how she coped with being betrayed for that long.
Living life since then was tougher. I cry myself to sleep every night, and I still do when I remember her. My brothers-maybe they do too. My dad? I know he did, but because there were still three mouths to feed, he had to find a way to move on. so he thought of enrolling himself in ballroom dance classes to occupy himself from being lonely. One move I both liked and loathed at the same time. I was happy for him because he found time to mourn by doing what my mom also loved to do, but I hated it because he never found time for us. There was once a moment where we would dress up because he wanted to treat us out. Of course we were excited, but then at the same time he couldn't get rid of the callers that wanted to hire him. I would wait for him by playing 3 games of pool by the neighbor's, and still when I come back he's still not ready. The excitement went down the side pockets together with the balls I sunk in.
Was he always like this? Amazingly no. He was very affectionate, fun and loving when we were kids. I don't really know what happened after that. We were never the dangerous kind. I don't bite. Neither do my brothers. But then how my dad was as a father in the next years that followed was that his rules matter. A kind of personality that we all rebelled on. Especially me. I used to hate it when he gave the usual dirty look on my male friends. I never understood why he didn't want me to associate with them. And most of all, suitors were never welcome. Not 'not welcome', but 'never welcome'. Still, I managed to be friends with the ones he hated, dated a few guys behind his back and still I graduated college without a baby on my arms.
The rebellious times I had with him was when we were already settled in the US. I used to be this person that had fear towards him, but since he allowed me to be by myself, I never felt the freedom most young adults only dreamed of. Lying to him became so easy, and befriending almost anybody was unbelievable. Vulnerability conquered my once wise head. And I guess he was doing the same thing: dating women and having this freedom away from his kids. Maybe that's why the consequences both caught up on us. Back home they say that if parents fool around, do bad shit, the kids pay the price. He cheated, I got knocked up. Need I say more?
After my son was born, he didn't talk to me for a year. It was hard because it would have been nice to tell me stories of how we were when we were babies. It would have been nice to have seen him playing with my newborn son. But instead what dominated our hearts were hatred towards each other. But the funny thing was he confessed to my aunts that he plays with my son while I was sleeping or not around. Sick in the head or what?
In the years that preceded we started to slowly become OK. OK as far as talking to each other but not really talking about what went on between us. For me, it is still so hard to confront him about it without breaking down or getting pissed off. We just went on with life. We all moved into an apartment that apparently became a so-called boarding house for no one else but friends. He met someone that he eventually thought was finally the one for him and moved in with her. Life went on the usual. My brothers and I kind of enjoyed it because we held parties at this place with no care in the world.
The moment when we all became united (sort of) was on the morning of March 7th, 2008. I just dropped off my son to school when I got the devastating news about my dad being rushed to the emergency room. I pulled out my son and immediately drove to Pasadena, worried sick over what happened because my brother told me something that I can't make head or tails of. When we got there, all we could do was wait. He was inside one of those cubicles and probably wondering what was going on. Finally the nurse allowed us to go and see him, and I lost it once I saw him: disoriented, confused, scared. I was trying so hard for him to recognize me by touching his hand, talking to him, telling him everything will be fine but all he did unknowingly was push us away. The doctor finally found out what happened and told us that he suffered from aneurism and it triggered his stroke. The rest of us became disoriented, confused and scared. Will he survive? What about us?
He was sent to the operating room for an emergency surgery to save him from the aneurism. We waited, called our family back home in Manila, prayed, welcomed friends that paid us a visit, and believe it or not, we even took some funny pictures. The disorientation really showed off. After waiting, we got the good news that he is doing fine. A sigh of relief streamed on each and everyone's faces. So I decided to spend the night with him in the ICU. It was hard for me to see him the first time after the operation but I had to be strong.
A few days passed and he had to undergo a second brain surgery to fix the problem that he already had since the day he was born. And that went well too. Every night since he was admitted became my schedule to watch over him. And every night I had to endure seeing him become more disoriented because of the fluids in his brain from the surgeries. There had to be at least 7 nurses to strap him down because he was that strong to be able to pull out everything that was connected to him. If nobody cared, he would have stormed out of the hospital without everyone else knowing it.
The fact that I wanted to take care of my dad personally was something I thought of but never really wanted to push it because it never really mattered to me where he wanted to stay. But pressure from other people and confusion led to being away from my own family for a while just because of one, I wouldn't really say stupid but it was more of a nonsense fight over where he should be after the discharge. That was something that I will regret forever. I wasn't there when he got out. He would have been happier if I was there to see him glad because he recovered so well. He would have felt better if he saw his grandson when he was told he could finally go home.
It healed the wounds when Mothers' Day came. We met up and a thick thorn piercing my heart since then was plucked away from me. I was happy to see them again, to see my dad, to hear everyone cracking jokes like the old times. From that day on I promised myself I will never let anyone else pressure me again. Ever.
And now came the 'burden' that he just had. I wasn't expecting for him to open up about it and realize that it's alright to depend on us, his kids. He became a different father we have never known before. I thank God for that. It never became too late for us to really come together as a family. Now, we call each other everyday just to ask how our day has been. He may have done a lot of things and I used to blame him for that but I realized it was wrong for me to think so. I am not so perfect myself. So, I just dusted it off my head and moved on. There's no use crying over spilled beer anyway. Besides, he is still my father. The only living parent I have left. Why leave it to chance of not having a good time with him before he passes? I'm sure that he already asked forgiveness for that. Whatever happens, it will always come down to me and my family. He will always be the funniest dad I know and I will always be the little girl he had twenty-eight years ago. I love him that much to let anyone else affect the way we are now.
posted by kate buenconsejo @ 11:19 PM
1 Comments:
Hey Daddy's Girl;
A beautiful story. I think 2 things: 1. you're grown up now and have matured and 2. you're dad got a glimpse of his mortality which I gather made him realize it's time to mend ways, to forget the past and build a new future; for himself and the ones he loves (his kids and grand kids).
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