All about Love, Life, Relationships

After so many years of celebrating Father’s Day, it’s only this year that I really paused to ponder on the men, the fathers, who have molded me into the person I am today. There are two: The first is my mother’s dad, Antonio, the second, my father, Clemencio. First my grandfather who turned 97 just last June 13…

Being the eldest grandchild on my mother’s side, I was lavished with much love by my grandparents. Together with my mother, I lived with them in the province the first five years of my life while my father worked as a teacher here in the city. Because I grew up around my grandfather, his was the masculine presence that had the most influence on me during my early childhood. So strong was the bond between my grandparents and me that when I moved to the city to start to school, I’d skip class just to spend time with them whenever they’d come to visit. We’d dine out, watch movies or go places together. I spent so much time with them during my kindergarten days that my absences were almost half the total number of school days.

My grandfather both inspired and scared me. He awed me with the love he showed my grandmother, Antonia and impressed me much with his self-discipline and healthy lifestyle. He took good care of himself and neither drank nor smoked. He was a man of integrity, consistently punctual, honoring his promises and keeping his word no matter what. And he moved heaven and earth to make a descent life for his family and to turn all his six children into accomplished professionals. He was generous to a fault – always trying to help everyone he could in whatever way he can. I deeply admired these qualities in him that I used to tell myself back then these are what I’d look for in a lifetime partner. But there was also a “shadow side” to my grandfather. He could be terribly stern, unyielding and exacting. Because he was so strict, my sister and I learned not to talk or laugh during meal times and to treat them as formal affairs. We learned to make ourselves scarce, even “invisible,” when there were visitors. When we would watch TV with him, if by chance some funny show made us laugh, we learned to do so quietly, our bodies shaking with mirth yet maintaining absolute silence. And when we’d celebrate Holy Week, it was cloaked in an atmosphere of mourning, like someone in the family had suddenly died. Only much later did the full impact of these early influences of my grandfather on my life hit me. For instance, I’ve long wondered where I got my strong will, my determination, tenacity and resilience, my willingness to put everything on the line, my conviction to speak my truth, and my compassion. Only as I wrote this did I realize I must have inherited them from him. Heaven must have bestowed them upon me when I wasn’t looking. And so, while it would definitely be great if the man I’d spend the rest of my life with possessed my grandfather’s positive qualities, I no longer need to look for them
in another. I already have them in me. On the other hand, my limited exposure to adults and the rigidity with which we were taught to face life at such a tender age made me timid and fearful. These are “handicaps” I’m struggling to overcome even now.

Needless to say, the other man who influenced me much was my father who is an artist and a very intelligent man. He is a writer, a composer, a poet and this must explain why he seems to be lost in a world of his own most times. He has done his best to be a good provider for the family and to be our guide and mentor. My fondest and earliest memories of him are of the times he’d put my sister and me to sleep by telling us bedtime stories. These fed our imagination and creativity. When we started going to school, he constantly prodded us to be the best we could be and was our staunch supporter when we’d vie for some academic honor or be interested in harnessing a particular ability or skill. He pushed us to develop our talents to the fullest and was our number one fan and critic. From him, I got my artistic flair, my tendency to be cerebral at times and my passionate nature. But I must admit I can never hold up a candle to my Dad’s accomplishments, unless, by some miracle I’d suddenly bloom in midlife – something I pray may still happen. Because even if he doesn’t say it, I know deep down, my father probably feels I can be so much more than what I am right now. I know, too, I’ve repeatedly dashed his hopes to the ground and broken his heart every time I turned my back on the wonderful opportunities that have come my way.

Clearly, my father and I have been through so much. We’ve crushed each other’s spirit with the actions we’ve taken and the decisions we’ve made individually. We’ve fought over a lot of things and made up. Fought again and made up all over. But through our ups and downs one thing I know: so much of who I am now is because of him. And as I watch him step closer to the twilight of his life and see our roles reversed – with me taking more care of him now than he gets to take care of me – there’s so much I want to say yet I find myself floundering. Words fail me and until I find the right ones, I hope these borrowed lines from the Net will convey for now even just a fraction of what I wish to tell him: