on dad

My friend, Mercy, who's an amazing singer, is one heck of a writer. She has penned numerous poems and songs and shorts stories and essays. Whatever form or mood or theme her write-ups may be, they affect and stir up certain emotions in readers...well, I know they do in me.

Last year, as a Christmas present, she sent us 2 collections of her writings, one of which was a digest of songs, poems, essays while the other was a compilation of her short stories. I had previously read her writings but one of her shoutouts in FB led me to re-read her poems and essays.

One of her write-ups was about her dad who passed away some 10 years ago. She paid tribute and recalled the times she had spent with him...their walks and hang-outs and trips to wherever, her dad's favorite lullaby to her, their love for word puzzles and for writing, the little chores they did, the talks and silent moments shared.

I had to stop reading midway. The words were becoming a blur as my eyes filled with tears. And a quiet kind of fear seemed to have tugged at my heart. Fear? Yes, fear for the answers to the questions that have strayed ..."Do I remember my dad as Mercy lovingly remembers hers? Have I forgotten the little details of our times together? Do I miss him? Do I love him still?"

I talk on and on about mom…but it seems that stories of days with dad have become few and far between. So please, indulge me this.

Dad died when I was 19. I was already in my third year in college and, by other people’s standards, was supposed to be old and mature enough to handle life and its blows. But 19 was just a number to me and, really, I was just a kid. Losing a parent, at any age, is devastating, more so for one barely out of her teens. And with Dad gone, I was lost.

Dad was a good, generous and principled man who loved God and family above all else...that much I know. He went to church every single day and enjoyed serving especially kids from financially disadvantaged families...that much I recall.

He loved to make us laugh but was stern with his rules. Two of his non-negotiable rules were: no family fights; and always respect and love Mom...these I remember well. But with 2 strong-willed daughters who had an even more strong-willed mother, arguments were never far off the table. We were sneaky though and almost always got away with those girl fights - almost.

He was an architect and an artist who drew portraits so well and so fast. I so wish we kept some of his works.

I remember him giving his pay envelope with ALL of his salary to mom. Yet it was a wonder how he was always able to buy us stuff. And his gifts (and he loved surprising us with gifts), especially to mom, were quite pricey. It was only later that we found out that as a Chief Architect, he had allowances to his name... hmmm...sneaky too!

When we went malling, I’d find mom and dad H.H.W.W. (holding hands while walking). I thought it sweet but it embarrassed the life out me.

One Valentine’s day, his birthday, I remember him asking me to go out with him to look for a gift for mom. Instead of the usual pricey but practical gift my mom loooved getting, he got her a small white stuffed animal toy from a Sanrio Gift Shop. The gift was unusual of him. It was out of character. It was sweet but impractical and so unlike him. It was the last he would ever give.

My eyes are bright and smiling now - the tears are gone and I have the answers to my questions. I do remember the miniscule details of our fun times with dad. And yes, I do miss him. And yes, I do so love him still. Though I ache for him and wish that he could have seen his girls grow into (ehem, ehem) beautiful women, though I long for his warm and loving embrace, though I miss seeking him out for talks and whatnot, I am so grateful for the gift of a wonderful father and the precious little time with him…for the laughter…for the lessons…for the love…

Thank you Daddy! I love you!