...happy father's day...

In all those years I had with my late father, I never said "happy father's day" to him whenever this particular day came around. I don't know why. Our family is not the type who are so hype on occasions like Father's Day. And I grew up knowing that its just like any other day. My father and me were never close, though sometimes, I wish we were. I always thought that my father would have preferred a boy for an eldest child instead he got me. For as long as I can remember, I never shared anything with him; never confided to him or ask his opinion. I guess for him, I was just someone whom he needs to fed, clothe and look after until I'm ready on my own. And in return, I regarded him as someone who just happen to be the man whom I have the same last name. An animosity developed between us and bad of me for not trying hard enough to reach out to him. When my father died, it felt like a ton of bricks fell down on me. I cried for all those time I was angry at him and for being indifferent to him. Then I realized that I could not do anything anymore because he's gone already and no amount of crying will rectify my shortcomings.

my father and brother

Today, I relive one particular memory I had with him. An event that somehow always brought a hint of smile on my face whenever I think about it. It happened a long time ago but I can still recall that day. It was one of those rare moment when my father was so obliging to us, his children. He brought me to the playground across the church. I instantly focused my attention to the slide. As I was making my way to it, I was telling myself that I can climbed on it and would slide down ecstatic. I was really confident I could do it. So I begun to climbed on the steps and when I reached the top and looked down, I was not confident anymore. The slide looked very long and never-ending. I was scared even to look down. At that moment, nothing can budge me to make a move. I was rooted on the spot but I also wanted to go down, the slide lost its appeal. So I called out to my father and asked for his help to get me down. I told him I was scared to slide myself down. At first, he looked annoyed and urged me to slide down but I didn't move. Maybe he sensed that I was really scared so he climbed on the steps, then he sat down and positioned himself on top of the slide. He told me to get on his back and he slowly edged his way down, careful not to get us stuck. We might looked so funny to an onlooker but I had the best slide of my life at that time. I was so happy to be on the ground again. When I turned to my father, he just grunted and still looked annoyed and told me that its time for us to go home. I did not mind it, I was still smiling and I was telling myself "pinangga ko sa ako tatay" ( My father loves me..) That was the last time that I ever got on a slide. I never tried again. Much more now that my father is not around anymore to slide down with me when I chicken out....