My Father

My father is one of the most significant persons that shaped me for who I am today. Though significant doesn't necessarily mean in a positive way. My father is not perfect, just as all earthly fathers are. I feel regret when I think of our relationship. I wish it had been better. I hope I can paint him as objective as possible.

I grew up in a middle-class family. My parents were young then, hopeful and adventurous. My father was a great business man. We used to own a printing press in Manila. Among our extended families on both sides, my family was the most well-off. It was my mother's dream, I believe everything was because of my dad. He is a very hard-working man. And he didn't fail to give us what we need. I remember me and my brother celebrating our childhood birthdays with a party every time. We would go up every summer to Baguio, together with extended families at the expense of my father. But he wasn't all extravagant. In fact he was known for his tight-fistedness when it comes to money. He despised the lazy and the dependent. Perhaps this was because he grew up fatherless. His father died during his teen years. He learned the hard life while still young.

Until highschool I went to a Filipino-Chinese school, surrounded by classmates more well-off than me. Somehow I grew envious of them. Because they had mansion-like houses, multiple cars, multiple shoes, had the latest toys. They would go abroad with their families. Somehow I wished I hadn't been exposed to those so I won't envy and look for things that our family does not have. Come to think of it, if I grew up without those, I would be content. And yet because of this I grew unimpressed of my hard-working father. My parents got saved in 1990. And since then up until today, I felt that he had lost the enjoyment of life. He ceased to enjoy his hard-work at the expense of his family. At the expense of my mother. We don't go to trips anymore, we don't eat out as much. But still he was a hard-worker.

My father is a very patient man. He rarely loose his temper. Among my parents, my mom was the more nagging one; my father always kept his mouth close. Just don't push him too much. I remember a time in my highschool when I used to be a rebellious child. I answer back, I murmur. But I didn't anticipate what happened one day. It was morning and we were preparing to go to school. I forgot what he was scolding about me that time. I murmured and suddenly like an unexpected earthquake, he drags me from inside the car, out in the street. It was the morning rush so cars and jeepneys were in a halt. And in the view of everybody, I was beaten by my father mercilessly. That's when for the first time I learned my lesson. It was days that we didn't talk until one day everything went back to normal. But somehow that experience contributed to how I feel about my dad.

It was a dream come true when got into the College of Architecture in University of Santo Tomas. I had a very promising career. I knew he believed in me, he was proud of me. It was during this season that his mother got sick. Today I learned that it was because of my grandmother's medical bills that our printing business went crashing down. I remember the season when they would borrow money, run away from the landlord, and eventually giving the whole printing press as payment to the people he owed. I believe it was a devastating blow on him.

Then it was time that I graduated. That time I'm struggling between pursuing ministry or a professional career as an architect. During that summer my call was confirmed. And by 2nd semester I enrolled myself to ASCM. I was a very idealistic, passionate man, full of hope. I was driven. Yet I failed to get the blessing of my parents. I skipped it, somehow I assumed that they would support me whatever road I chose. But that was not the case. My father hated the fact that I didn't pursue my career. It was understandable I think because after all the hard-work of taking your eldest son through college. All has gone to waste. I remember my mom telling me she prayed that I will be called into the ministry. And during the early years of my post-college life, our relationship (my father) grew even colder. He was a frustrated man. I was torn between my family and my calling.

I remember one Sunday morning we were on our way to church. He was so frustrated at me that he didn't want to drive to church (which he usually does), so I drive instead. The trip to the church was an ordeal, because my father kept on airing his frustrations about me foolishly running after a ministry. I felt really, really bad. My dignity trampled upon. And even I was a grown man, such hurtful words I heard that day, in the presence of my mother and brother, really devasted me as a person. We arrived at church, I was playing for worship, he was so disturbed in his spirit that he left church even before the service had started. Later in the week he apologized to each other through text and somehow the issue calmed down for a while. There were many more instances like these but this one was the worst of all.

Today, he works as an employee, supervisor, at his aunt's printing press. He is still a hard-working man at his mid-50s. He has lost his passion, his dream. I believe he doesn't have even a vision for our family anymore. He just works and works. He leaves early in the morning, goes home at five-thirty, takes an early dinner, and most of the time sleeps early. He hardly celebrates victories and remembrances. He is a tired man. He still reminds us brothers about not spending too much time in ministry at the expense of family. He never reprimands us directly, somehow it would be painful for him to bring upon sadness to his children. I feel sad for my mother. I wished they're relationship would be more romantic. He has taken the backseat. I wish that he would take that leadership role in the family. I longed for my father to lead our family.

I feel robbed when I think of how I didn't get a chance to bring my relationship with my father to full maturity. He was a hard-working man, but where has it taken him? Nevertheless, until today I longed for his approval and his acceptance. He hasn't express his affection to us verbally, sometimes through occasional cards and text messages. But every time I cry to myself when I wonder if I am making my parents proud; if I am making my father proud. The approval I so desired before all men was my father's.

But I have still a lot of things to be thankful for. He might not have influenced us toward business. But he gave to me and my brother the passion for art. My father taught us to play guitar which sparked our artistic inclinations. My father is a jack of all trades. He is good at fixing things. It's as if he knew how to fix everything. He also taught me how to drive. Even though our relationship is not perfect, somehow I will be grieved when he leaves, after all he is the only dad I will ever have. I remember one time that I dreamed of his death, it was more like a nightmare. They heard me screaming and wailing loudly in my sleep. I woke up to my dad slapping me. And waking up to my father, I cried even louder, held him tight and didn't let him go. Somehow I realized, I love my father.

I have worries for the future. I'm worried about how will I become a good father to my children someday growing up with my father. Even now I discover things and habits he does which I don't like, now I do involuntarily. I fear that I myself will become my father.