Everyday when I arrive at home tired from work, I usually go to the dining table right away and eat lunch. My sister and I usually talk for hours while eating and we talk just about anything and everything she can think of (Yes! she monopolizes the conversation). Yesterday, during our usual conversation, she suddenly blurted out a laughter and mentioned about the old letters she came across while cleaning her room forward slash office. The letters she was referring were from my father while he was working in Manila.
She said, "You should read Papa's letters and you would find out how much he cared for you before."
Didn't know what to say, only one word came out from my mouth.. "Really?!"
The conversation about the letters ended abruptly because of some disturbance which I could no longer remember. The chat was over but my sister's words were still resounding on my head... "you would find out how much he cared for you before.."
I stand corrected, not all memories of my childhood have been erased after all. I could still remember the days when my father and I cuddle on the sofa and he calls me 'bogoy' all the time, treating me like a son. I still remember the days when he brings me to school and the days when he goes out of his way just to pick me up with his taxi. And on our way home, he asks me the names of the streets we pass by and gives me one peso for every correct answer I give. I still remember the days when he teaches me how to play chess and even plays against me, in an effort to show me his most treasured tricks. He was always there for me and the memories of his love are still vivid.
However, besides the things that I've mentioned, all the others are already blurry. I couldn't even remember how our relationship became sour, when it started, and why we don't even talk today. All I now is that things are the way they are because of one single incident which didn't even involve me. I was just an after-effect, an unfortunate by-product of a then twenty-five year-old failed marriage.
Last night just before dinner, my sister showed me the letters so I read it with an unexpected excitement. Somehow, the knowledge of my father caring for me so much when I was still a child gave me a sense of hope that everything would soon go back to its proper place.
The letter dated back July to December 1994. I was still eight years old then, just on my second grade. In the letters, he mentioned how he struggled to work despite chaos at his workplace. He also mentioned about his health problems which prevented him from going to work. And while he greeted all of us, his daughters, I always had the special mention. That I should be good and not fail to go to school, that my sisters should take care of me and buy me bread after school, that they should buy me a bottle of 'Maggi Savor' because it suits my tastes (I actually didn't like it that much but just pretended to be fond of it because I knew that he wanted me to taste it).
Funny as it may sound, the 'Maggi Savor' reminder (which was repeated over and over again in his letters) showed me how concerned he was about what I eat. In his letters there was always a reminder for me to eat well because I was such a skinny malnourished kid. And aside from the repetitive reminder of performing well in school, he also told me to always recite a verse from Psalm 23 everyday. I used to recite the verse before him over and over again before he went to Manila, and surprisingly, I can still say it out on top of my head... "... even though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil for Thou art with me. Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me..."
True enough, those letters made me remember the love and the warmth that my father gave me when I was still a kid, the same love and warmth that I lost, and the same love and warmth that I'm hoping to find again. And with all the due honesty I can say that if there is one person in this world that I truly miss, it is my father.
She said, "You should read Papa's letters and you would find out how much he cared for you before."
Didn't know what to say, only one word came out from my mouth.. "Really?!"
The conversation about the letters ended abruptly because of some disturbance which I could no longer remember. The chat was over but my sister's words were still resounding on my head... "you would find out how much he cared for you before.."
I stand corrected, not all memories of my childhood have been erased after all. I could still remember the days when my father and I cuddle on the sofa and he calls me 'bogoy' all the time, treating me like a son. I still remember the days when he brings me to school and the days when he goes out of his way just to pick me up with his taxi. And on our way home, he asks me the names of the streets we pass by and gives me one peso for every correct answer I give. I still remember the days when he teaches me how to play chess and even plays against me, in an effort to show me his most treasured tricks. He was always there for me and the memories of his love are still vivid.
However, besides the things that I've mentioned, all the others are already blurry. I couldn't even remember how our relationship became sour, when it started, and why we don't even talk today. All I now is that things are the way they are because of one single incident which didn't even involve me. I was just an after-effect, an unfortunate by-product of a then twenty-five year-old failed marriage.
Last night just before dinner, my sister showed me the letters so I read it with an unexpected excitement. Somehow, the knowledge of my father caring for me so much when I was still a child gave me a sense of hope that everything would soon go back to its proper place.
The letter dated back July to December 1994. I was still eight years old then, just on my second grade. In the letters, he mentioned how he struggled to work despite chaos at his workplace. He also mentioned about his health problems which prevented him from going to work. And while he greeted all of us, his daughters, I always had the special mention. That I should be good and not fail to go to school, that my sisters should take care of me and buy me bread after school, that they should buy me a bottle of 'Maggi Savor' because it suits my tastes (I actually didn't like it that much but just pretended to be fond of it because I knew that he wanted me to taste it).
Funny as it may sound, the 'Maggi Savor' reminder (which was repeated over and over again in his letters) showed me how concerned he was about what I eat. In his letters there was always a reminder for me to eat well because I was such a skinny malnourished kid. And aside from the repetitive reminder of performing well in school, he also told me to always recite a verse from Psalm 23 everyday. I used to recite the verse before him over and over again before he went to Manila, and surprisingly, I can still say it out on top of my head... "... even though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil for Thou art with me. Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me..."
True enough, those letters made me remember the love and the warmth that my father gave me when I was still a kid, the same love and warmth that I lost, and the same love and warmth that I'm hoping to find again. And with all the due honesty I can say that if there is one person in this world that I truly miss, it is my father.
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