The man I call father

I was named after you.

Although I rarely use "Antonio," as second names usually carry trivial importance in casual day to day living, I know that somehow you always wanted to also imprint your own father's name into your only son.

Between you and Mama, I am probably less closer to you. Mama was more the dominant character in my life, while you were more the force "behind the scenes." But that doesn't necessarily mean that I love you less.

I've always seen you as my Jollibee --- fat, giggling, and all-smiles. I was never afraid of you. You get mad, but I know you never take grudges.

Perhaps the only time I got scared of you when I was younger was when I was merely seven. I fell on the ground at Tatay and Nanay's old house in Limjoco, while breaking the bone on my left arm. I was terrified not because it was painful and I was badly wounded; I was terrified because I knew you will definitely hit me with your leather belt. Earlier that day, you reminded me to be careful at all times. But apparently, accidents do happen.

Whenever you get mad, you shout; you become furious; and you curse out all those swearing words no one wants  to hear from a father. But you're just like a boiling kettle. I give you just a few minutes and I expect you to completely simmer down.

Thus, I never grew afraid of you. Somehow, your moods are already predictable.

There are hundred reasons why I know I love you dearly.

I was never sure if I would be able to tell you all these while you or me are both still here on earth. But all along I knew, there will be a time when I'm all grown up, I'll be able to pen all of these thoughts down.

I knew this wasn't written as my eulogy to you like how I see other people do so. They only mourn and tell their fathers how much they love them once their gone. Perhaps, I was just waiting for the right moment to have the guts to say these out, probably when I'm already old and wise enough.

I remember when I was in first year high school, you knew I wanted to have a mobile phone like any other teenager that time. Neither you nor Mama had one at that time too. You suddenly woke me up at the middle of the night after coming back from work. While I was barely half awake, you showed me a transparent colored, second hand Ericcsson phone and you asked me if I did like it. I hesitated at first as I knew it wasn't brand new.

If ever I'll be having a phone, I wanted it new and not a hand-me-down one. I knew it was that expensive. And so I accepted the fact that I have to settle with what you can afford. Sensing my apprehensions, you came back the next day with a slightly newer model from the more popular brand at that time -- a Nokia 2110. It was huge as an ice shaver and as yellow as Cory Aquino's ribbons. But I did like it.

You value generosity. You come out of your way to buy things for me. Whether it's a family computer cartridge or bala ng Sega which we buy monthly at the stalls in the old Manuela. Or even the Jollibee Yum burgers and chocolate eclairs you bring home daily. Those were very much priceless.

You cook very well too, far better than Mama's cooking. I love your Menudos. Those were sagad sa sarap. I remember you marinate them in Sprite and butter. And the aroma that it brings is heavenly.

It was you who also taught me how to be a fighter and never get bullied. You taught me to how to have a voice and speak up for my own rights despite various baffling circumstances. You taught me to be on my toes at all times. You taught me how to hide under the table if ever an earthquake do happen. You taught me how to be always alert and how to guard myself especially when I'm walking or commuting alone along the streets of Metro Manila.

Do you even still remember when we were on our way to Manuela and was about to ride a jeepney across talipapa? I vividly remember how I managed to easily get passenger seats in an instant despite the dozen others fighting their way to also find a ride. I saw the smirk of pride on your face.

And how you scolded me for the bubble gum that got stuck on my chino pants back in high school. You initially taught I get bullied for looking like a dork that I once was. I was angry at you then. I despised you for thinking foolish of me. Then we had a talk and patched things up that same night. I never got mad at you ever since.

You taught me how to be good in math. It was never my strongest subject, but I always managed to pass with average grades because of you. Whenever we master multiplication using our fingers, I held to the belief that I was in the presence of the best Math guru. For the longest time, I thought you were excellent in Math. Only more recently did I realize that you actually weren't. But asking help from you did actually help me to get through.

You also taught me why I need to take time and double-check all my answers in every school exam there was. And that I need to take a bold step in making a wild yet wise guess if I don't know the answers to some multiple item questions. These are still applicable in my life as an adult. It taught me to be cautious but at the same time to take risks in achieving my goals.

I think the greatest trait I got from you was the fact that you love being with everyone. Not necessarily to become the center of attention, but the person who brings joy to the people surrounding you. You love bringing joy to people's faces. You make fun of people, not to hurt them, but to inspire and encourage them to loosen up --- be the real, genuine person that they can be in front of anyone. You laugh at people as you laugh with them. You welcome people whatever their background or personality is. You adapt yourself to their own moods, not because you pretend just so that they will like you, but because you want them to feel at ease while you are around.

They say I look like you when I was growing up. It's funny how Mama sometimes despise how I dress up while you support me all the way. Be it my colorful tops, tight-fitting v-neck shirts, skinny jeans or fancy loafers. Instead of teasing me that it's too loud and too metro, you think I was just... in style.

When I was kid, you always asked me to step on your back and massage you using my entire body weight. As I grew bigger and while you grew older and fatter, I became more and more scared that I might break your back bone. Sometimes, what I do is to pretend I look tired instead. You were amazing on the other hand. You always find time to massage my wide back and smelly feet whenever I request you to do so. Perhaps, again I might be wrong, it's your little way of finding an alternative to hug back your already grown-up son.

The mild stroke you suffered years ago was I think far worst than, you, losing your job back in the 90's. I thought we'll already lose you and that I had to already stand up as the head of the family. In fact, I have already prepared myself at the that time, to carry the family on my shoulders. Dramatic, typical movie-like storyline, but true. But I prayed really hard. Every stroke I did while I was massaging your numb leg and foot at that time, I was praying to God to heal you and to put the bliss back on your face. And truly I believed that you will be healed.

I hated our first ever car - the golden Pong Pagong beetle you spent your money on after winning your Peninsula case. Whenever you pick me up from school, I hid behind the backseat, pretending that I was sleeping so that no other kids can see me inside our poor-looking car. Looking back, I love you for doing that. You were proud to be my father and just wanted to feel like what it is like picking up your son in his own school. I thank you for that.

You are extremely hardworking. Working even on Saturdays just to earn those extra little tips for our daily living allowances. How you sell those light bulbs and kitchen sink items (if I'm not mistaken) just to earn for a living during our down times. Despite those hard situations in our life, you still managed to send me and Denise to the best schools in town.  

Forgive me if I cried and puked too much when I was barely 11 whenever you bring me to school before you go to work. It was just one of those horrible phases when the dramatic side of me overpowered my entire being. I just got attached to much with the family. I hope I never puked on the tapsilogs and packed lunches that you brought and were supposed to sell at the office. It was disgusting, I know.

Nowadays, calling home and you, picking up the phone, is always a funny anecdote. You always run out of words to say whenever we get the chance to talk. And vice-versa. You always end up saying the same things over and over again: "O, kamusta ka na?", "Ummulan ba dyan?", "Malayo ba office mo sa bahay mo?"... "O eto na Mama mo." It seems like we want to talk more, but we were just afraid to speak to each other.


Now that I'm older, I want to give back for all the generosity you've shown me. May it be a Nike sports bag, a white long-sleeve shirt, or a trip abroad. Because I appreciate.

For most people, they think of you as someone who's tough, always jolly and never emotional. But the father I know is someone who cries over me because I need to leave them again in Manila to lead my life and career in another country. I have witnessed these cries both in Hong Kong and in Singapore when we had our family trips.

You are the father that I value, appreciate ,and love. Because you have raised me well as your loving son.

I may have sinned against you and have hurt you for leading this life that I was born in and have chosen to live in, but I hope you forgive and accept me as the Paolo that you have always known.

I am still who I am. Nothing will change.

I love you, Mama and Denise.

-Paolo-