Manilenya

(Photos from Donabellas)

When I read this line, my father rolled up to my mind. He didn’t say he loves me or my two other sisters. He didn’t even show love to us.

The only emotion you could ever see on him is the irks when he sees something that he thought is displeasing and gladness if you do or give something good to him.

The only memory of how he became a father to me was when I saw him holding a piece of lumber when there was a big news that a group of bad guys who escaped the city jail and gone amuck in some schools in our city and my former school was one of them. He was carrying that lumber, and he was planning to get me from school.

I forgot all the candies and chocolate that he used to bring when he gets home after his long day of work. He usually brings 3 candy mint or one pretzels every night and a gallon of ice cream in every occasion.

But when I grow older, I don’t know if my memory lapses, but I don’t remember any father and daughter moment between us.

He loves to scold me because I was so clumsy. I was the nitwit among the three siblings, I need to ask him more than once when asked me to do something.

If you ask my mother if who’s the brightest daughter that she has, I am sure she won’t tell my name also.

I am weak, physically and mentally. Maybe emotionally too. That’s what they thought of me and that’s what I also thought of myself.

When I enter college, I deviated from what I thought of myself and that created disagreement between us.

I have learned to talk back, but not in the sense that I disrespect him.

I became a student leader and very active in social issues. He was working abroad that time and he said, he returned home because he can’t understand what I was talking about in all my letters to him.

Yes, I am propagating the oil price hikes, the inequalities in Philippine society and the evilness of the present government.

Of course, I know that it was he’s only mean of blaming me for returning home, he just cannot work abroad anymore and can’t even say that he missed us.

Maybe my failed marriage and my returning to home added a mediocrity to me.

When writing this post, I am not saying that he’s a bad father, and that he doesn’t love me. He just thinks that I cannot live without them…That they can’t let me go or else I’ll get off track.

Now I realized one more memory I cannot forget of him as my father, whenever he’s going out he loves to ask me what I want while I was carrying my daughter.

That’s sweet. Now I don’t care if he didn’t tell me that he loves me. I can feel it in a way. He’s not going to cook for me if he doesn’t.

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