Lots of pizza, chicken, and fries! Thank you lil bro for the treat! 😀
Missed this definitely~ ❤
Lots of pizza, chicken, and fries! Thank you lil bro for the treat! 😀
Missed this definitely~ ❤
Walking through Dad’s papers – record of his life in two pages and scribbles of a lonely man
I finally gave time to sort through my dad’s documents which was sent by my uncle from the States.
There’s plenty of them: credit card bills, employment documents, tax returns, etc.
While I search for documents that might hint at where his accounts are (so we can track his money and pay our debts), I can’t help but feel heavy going through his files.
Those kinds of papers were things other people didn’t pay attention to. They didn’t need to because it’s personal and confidential. However, I couldn’t help, but trace through my dad’s life in the states going through job to job; from an illegal alien to a greencard holder. If I ever felt lonely while applying for a job because I had no moral support while doing so, what more for my father who was far away from home? He had to survive in a foreign land. He was such a brave man.
But what broke me was the two-page piece of paper with his scribbles of when he was still alive, jotting down his body’s condition, watching out for a seizure. I did the exact same thing when I was at the hospital when he was sick, always on the verge of a breakdown, but needing to be awake and strong for the both of us.
It was my dad recording pieces of his life alone, sick, and needing to be strong for himself.
And we couldn’t be there for him.
Now I can only cry and imagine what I missed. I feel like I’ve never really knew my dad, nor really cared much about his life there. I’m always busy making fighting my own demons to stay afloat, to stay smiling, so I kept deaf and blind to his typical whims which were apparently pleads of a lonely man.
Whenever I see a picture of my dad, I always wonder how much he had to endure, how sad it must have been these past four years of being without a wife that loves him, and three children who couldn’t do shit to make him feel that his life was worth something.
I wonder what my dad felt on the last moments of his life, if he ever had the strength to record it, what could he have stated there. I wonder if he passed away with regrets or he was ready to say goodbye, or if he was sad or angry at us.
I’m sorry if I failed you, Daddy. I’m so so sorry.
Sometimes, the most beautiful smile can shatter one’s heart into pieces. Just like mine.
For a while, I’ve been wondering why my eyes had been so dry with the whole ordeal of my dad’s passing. I think I’m keeping everything inside, or I still feel weird that I’m still fine.
Like, losing a family member is suppose to make your life crumble, but it’s not always like that. We move on, it’s true. But I think we’ll always long for those we lost.
Personally, I’m always going to mull on my what ifs with Dad.
Sometimes, my dad is more of the person I always am in conflict with, someone I don’t understand, someone I long to understand. His image as a father is different from his image with his friends whom so many love and adore because of his jokes and charm. He’s not the grumpy, misunderstood man I make him out to be in my head, or it’s just that we all put a different side of ourselves out there.
When I saw these pictures of him,
I couldn’t stop crying. Alas I remember that my dad had showed that side of him to me so many times and I think I was never that welcoming of it. These were his smiles even when he was sick, trying to survive the night with the thought of the possibility of death just around the corner and at the same time not having the heart to make us worry that much.
I never realized my dad was so handsome until these pictures. And I think it was beyond the physical that I finally accepted his claim of being a handsome man, but it’s because through those smiles–from those selfies he sent over messenger–he was sending us a message that had always been universal in his life as our father: I’m okay. Don’t worry about me. Always be happy. I love you very much.
Over and out, Daddy 😔🎈
What a fun time with co-teachers today!
Went to Sinagtala Farm and Resort in Bataan for our school building. Our supervisor said it was actually my moody boss’ idea, and it’s nothing short of odd and amazing at the same time. Nonetheless, of course, we all are very thankful. 🙂
Tried some new things like riding a bicycle suspended on air (sky cycle), ziplining and sky swing (a massive swing). They’re all pretty scary in the beginning, but they’re all really fun. During the zipline, I felt really close to the sky so I screamed “I love you Daddy, and I’m sorry for everything” then I started crying a bit. It’s kind of scary because I think I’ve been suppressing a lot of feeling regarding daddy’s death, and I’m not sure how to deal with it properly, so they just come out in episodes like this.
Anyhow, the sky and weather was amazing today, so I can’t help but take pictures, of course.
Haaaay. Sky shots will always save me.
Should it be? Well yeah I guess it should be. It’s the end of the work week, tomorrow we have a staff trip to Bataan (yey!), and I’m chatting with a guy (uyyy).
Also, we already received news that Dad’s body will be coming home next week, so I guess that’s considered good news too. I can finally sleep better knowing that Dad’s delivered properly, finally.
These days, I’m having trouble sleeping. I haven’t started my tutorials yet so I have plenty of time to nap in the afternoon after work, but I just find it hard to find slumber fast. I end up reaching for my phone or reading a story when this happens. I always have a lot on my mind, but the matter of Daddy’s death is always at the back of it. I think it’s causing my insomnia.
Coincidentally, the fic I’m reading now has Isak with insomnia too because he’s been stressed about his mom, who has schizophrenia. Although she’s more stable then, his mind is constantly relegating to that thought, plus stress from uni, so he finds it really hard to sleep.
My insomnia is the other type, thank gosh, so I can still sleep around 12 or earlier.
Anyway, speaking of sleep, I think I’d have to do that now while I’m still feeling the buzz of sleepiness.
Sunday is Family Day!
We used to have this back when Tita and Daddy were still alive. And as promised, the three of us–Kuya, Jom and I–are going to continue it. We need to be there for each other, especially now.
It’s always tiring to go out plus with my two hyper nephews, but always worth it!
Love you all~
Lots of good memories from our Pangasinan trip!
I guess the best thing out of this experience is just bonding so well with my brothers. I don’t usually drink (especially with them), but I got myself drunk on New Years just because they were there. I’m especially learning more about their interests, and I think I’m opening more about my weirdness to them (haha!), and we’ve been laughing about many things together, so that’s really heart-warming.
Strange (or maybe not so much), but this is what my dad wanted for us all along: for all three of us to be in good terms. Although I’m not in a fight with any of them, but I’ve remained a bit distant to them. I mean, one, I don’t really share my interests with them. Yes, we all like anime and some TV shows and movies, but the ones that really captures my passion, they find a bit odd. And I find their obsession with basketball similarly odd too (lol)! But just yesterday night, we were discussing about aliens, predictions about the earth in the future, parallel universes and they were completely chill with it!
And the cheesiest sibling-ly thing we’ve done is getting the PUNYETA shirt!
HAHAHAHA! We wore it during New Year’s eve and to welcome the new year. We bad asses like that. Yeah!
It’s a bit late, but I hope Daddy is happy with what’s happening now with us. We’ll be fine, Daddy. We’ll be fine. Thank you for everything.
“Auld Lang Syne”
N. Old times, especially those fondly remembered
This is Dictionary.com’s word of the day. How fitting to the picture we receive of my dad today.
He looks dapper in a suit, he looks peaceful, but he’s not moving nor breathing; he’s not smiling or making a joke at something; he’s not even looking at anyone because his eyes are closed–and that’s for eternity.
If Dad was still alive and he’s clad in the same suit, looking formal, looking really proper for a special occasion maybe, he’d ask me: “Pogi ba, Chie?” then I’ll annoy him with a tsk and a nod just to appease him, but he’ll brush off my nonchalance with a jest: “Siyempre pogi Daddy mo.” And I think he was. I think he really was. I just never got to say it to him sincerely because bickering had always been our game, my lambing. He had always been the vocal one, the more affectionate one, and I think that he had too much of it and I lacked some.
I would’ve enjoyed seeing him in a basketball jersey on top of that suit because I think that speaks more of one of his loves than a suit. My dad is laidback, a funny guy, likes to relax and be casual. He was always expressing that he deserve the pampering whenever he went home for a vacation because he’d been working his ass off, and of course, I saw the point in that. It’s just that there were times when I felt the same and I think at some point it became a competition, of who was more tired of life and who deserved more of what’s not given enough to us, so often I’ll roll my eyes and avoid the topic, and him along the way.
I didn’t grow up with my Dad the way my two brothers did, nor do I have the same interests as he did, so there would always be a gap in my heart wanting to understand him more, get to know him more, have him understand and know me more back, but I guess there’s nothing more to hope for now.
What I just wish, sincerely, with the numerous times my dad confided his sadness to me about the disconnect of our family, his situation in the states, the loss of his great love, and his loneliness, I hope all of that had been cleared as he entered a new life.
No more pain, Daddy. No more pain.
I just wish there’s more time to share, but then we don’t have that anymore, so I just wish you well there.
Your death is part of 2017 I’ll say goodbye to in a while, but your memories, the auld lang syne and even the unfavorable ones, I’ll hold on to as much as I can.
I love you, Daddy.
As much as you felt it, as much as I comprehended it.
I’m sorry for everything.
See you again.
There’s still a lot of things to think about from here on getting my dad transferred from the US to the Philippines. No matter what, my siblings and I are determined to have his body delivered properly to where he wanted to lie in eternity with, even if it means being in debt for another 10 years of my life.
I think I can live with that.
This is my amend to Dad. This is my way of making up to him, for everything that I lacked as a daughter, I’d sacrifice more of my years to deliver him where he should be.
On the other hand, I’m very touched by the number of friends reaching out and assuring me that their lines are open for me to reach when I feel the need to talk to someone. I’m not that kind of friend to begin with, thus, I’m very happy that I actually have friends who show the initiative to be that kind of friend for me. Despite my lack in affection when it comes to reaching out, they still like me, they still care for me.
My younger brother was crying again tonight, expressing his doubts in God because both his parents are gone. I’m a bit lucky my mom is still here, but he’s technically parentless, although he still has us, his remaining family members.
To be honest, I didn’t know how to console him. Consoling crying people had always been awkward for me, and I feel my way of consoling doesn’t really comfort people. It’s tough love for me, and not everyone appreciates it. Because when one is feeling vulnerable, I don’t think anyone would like someone too strong with words. Comfort is associated with softness, and other than my fats, I don’t think I’m very soft anywhere else. Moreover, I don’t believe in the Christian god. I believe there’s a higher power though, and that everything, probably happens for a reason. The only thing we can do is live through life thinking that our life is molded by the decisions we make, and the ones we do not understand, like death of a loved one, is supposed to serve a greater purpose to our life.
Tita’s death proved to be a turning point in my life, causing a very big shift in the way I view life and myself. I didn’t understand my father before, and I think I never would, but I saw a very different side of his life that was in hindsight before: that you love because you want to, despite repeated rejections, you love because you want to. It’s possible.
I’m not sure where our lives will go from here, and honestly, I’m not that keen on seeing it yet, but I’m sure Tita and Daddy will be guiding us from where they are.
I love you both so much.
From the other side, I guess.
If there’s one person I’ve bore my strongest and most vulnerable side, it’s probably you. If there’s one person whom I always go into arguments, seen me withhold tears while struggling, seen me bawl because of sadness, it’s probably you. Unknowingly. I realized that now.
We’ve had many ups and downs. So, so, so many of them. There’s probably more downs than the ups, that’s why the latter is all the more precious. You were not there in many milestones of my life, but I know you tried your best to make up to it. I just wish you forgive yourself because despite our decisions leading us to where we are today, pleasant or not, I’ve forgiven you the first time you asked for forgiveness. I hope you eventually believed me when I’ve repeatedly tell you that not being there in those important moments didn’t matter, because if there was one person whom I know have always had their support and love for all my decisions, even if it didn’t suit your taste, it’s you.
Even when I ignore your messages and calls, have not reached out as best as you always tried, you loved me the same. You loved and loved and loved even when it was clear as day that we can never reciprocate the same love you were able to give. I’d say we were victims of our own circumstances, or some wounds were never able to mend properly, but you still tried, you still cared, you still loved us the same.
I have many regrets in my life, Daddy. And being with you longer will probably part of my top five. It’s sad that you were never able to understand how much we wanted to connect with you in the way we could, not in the way you expected. And it’s always going to be sad that I never understood your love the way I see it now, when it’s too late. I regret the fact that you passed away alone, in your small apartment, thousands of miles away from us, not a word of goodbye, but a hint of disconnection from the online and real world, apparently.
Nonetheless, now no more pain, no more tears, no more sadness. Life had been tough on you, but you battled it with laughter, smiles, and strength. I don’t know you how your friends do, but it seems you were a crowd favorite, and that leaves me smiling. I hope you find your way home to Him and finally, with Tita. I know how much you miss her. I know how much you still longed for her even after everyone has seemed to move on from her loss. Finally, you’re together again.
Wherever you are Daddy, I hope you’re smiling. Don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine.
I love you. I’ll always miss you. Always long for you.
This afternoon, for some strange reason, I suddenly got this piercing headache. Like, out of nowhere, it was there.
So I slept the afternoon dead from the world, nursing my head back to normal feels.
Then, I got a phone call from my lil bro.
My little brother doesn’t call me unless there’s an emergency. So there goes that dread.
Our father is dead.
No cold feeling washed over me, it was more of a disbelief. A shock. But for some reason, I felt this coming already. I knew it was only a matter of time before he is taken from us, and I knew that we could not do anything to prevent that. It was time.
Right now, I’m not sure what to feel. I think everything has not sunken in yet. I just feel that he’s doing something or sleeping.
But I know the moment I start going through documents to process his death, and especially seeing his remains, that will be it.
Right now, I’m neither sad nor happy. I feel, as cliché as it sounds, empty.
It’s been three years, Tita.
Three years and I still miss you.
Three years and I still cannot look at our pictures without my chest contracting and some tears pooling my eyes.
Three years and I still carry some guilt over what happened to you.
I hope you forgive me. I hope I learn to forgive myself too.
Keep watching us from there. I’ll be fine, don’t worry. You know how strong I am. But give me strength, too, if there will be some left from the strength content you have to give my brothers and daddy. Just, if there are some left. I won’t mind a bit of help, I really won’t. That would be very nice actually.
I love you and I miss you very much.
Sometimes I wonder if you’re really dead or you’re just gone for a really long time.
Yeah, sometimes I catch myself thinking that.
It’s been a challenging vacation for dad and for me as well, but I hope everything turns out well.
I’m going to be very busy with work from here onwards, and I think I won’t be able to be there for dad as best as I can, so I hope he remembers to always take his medicines. His condition is still not that good, considering the core problem has not been cured yet, but I hope that the doctors in the states can do better than the ones here.
That’s the only valid reason he has in going back there anyway.
We missed the annual date night, Daddy, but I’ll look forward to the next one, okay? Love you!
“Naging masama ba akong ama?”
I’ve been asked this question so many times that the last time I was asked again, I began doubting my answer.
And that disturbed me.
There’s a lot of shitty things in my life and I can easily point out to my family as one of them. Since childhood and family creates a big impact to a person’s personality, then that easily answers the question why I have a jaded side.
My parents separated when I was two years old. Young as I was, I somehow understood that my parents were not going to live in the same house anymore, and I will only see my father twice a week, every weekend when I don’t have school. He will pick me on Friday evenings and take me home on Sunday evenings. I don’t remember much of my bondings with my dad during these weekends, only fun times with my cousin since my dad and his brothers’ family were always together so they can play cards, and the kids can play videogames or house.
So really. Even when I spent enough time with him (technically), the emotional connection was probably never established properly. He was busy with work, perhaps finding another woman to hold, and I was just going with the flow.
They said I was an obedient a child. A strangely quiet child who was mature for her age. So I basically followed what my parents agreed with, received and said thanks to obligations provided (schooling, gifts, time), but in retrospect, no wonder my father is so wounded to have his “angel” grow up to be this independent, outspoken, always going against his thoughts and plans kind of daughter.
Oh, how time changed…me.
But to answer his question, NO, HE IS NOT A BAD FATHER. In terms of providing for what we need and fulfilling obligations, he provided well. Yes, we hear a lot of complaints and sarcastic remarks in the process of asking them from him, and specific requests for gifts he specifically asked from us set aside for his own preference (style and budget) in the end, and us getting the “hindi nalang kayo magpasalamat” line from him when we express disappointment, but yeah, he provided. Perhaps it’s his parenting style that does not match our personality, especially the personalities we developed while he was absent for most of our formative years.
Sadly, my dad does not understand this.
He’s too proud as a father, as the padre de familia, to accept that we have grown out of the image he crafted of us. We are not the ideal children, nor is he the ideal father. We’re not in a film because real life is much more complex than what movies could ever offer us. We are not robots. We cannot be as easily malambing and caring just because he is family. A person who came from a complete family would probably disagree with me, and I understand that, but this reality exist where I’m coming from.
I probably have a different definition of family than others. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to be that movie-type of daughter for her father if I could. My dad is 58 years old, he’s alone, and he doesn’t know what he is doing wrong, and he doesn’t even want to admit that he is wrong in the first place. Believe me, I want that turning point in a movie like Tanging Yaman just so I can fix our relationship; just so our whole family will be fixed.
So dear Daddy, no, you’re not a bad father. You just don’t know what’s going on because you chose to just put forward your achievements and what you have done for us to get our sympathy, not our love. I know you try, I know you really do. But there’s not enough time for us to be together, and I think a month long vacation is going to fix years of a heart’s absence.
So please, please, don’t ask me this question again. It’s always so hard to answer, especially when the answer is morphing into something unfavorable, but real.
Every time dad is back in the country for a vacation, we have family outings like these. Throwback and rekindling broken family traditions, I guess.
Anyway, it was fun bonding with nephews, family, and cousins in the pool and ball games. Damn tiring, but fun!
Oh, and here’s a GIF of an awesome, weirdo pool dive. Please watch out, she chases whoever watches it. >D
Sleep over in my cousin’s house in Las Pinas! Damn, I miss our bondings together. And for once, a legit dating advice ahahahah!
So yes, cousin dear, I will try to date for real next year. Wait lang, wait lang talaga. Hindi pa ako puwede mag-kumbento. LOL
Met her 6-month-old “baby” husky, Aureo! He was so sweeeeeeeeet~ I miss having a pet inside the ho
To mend my stressed heart due to the exam yesterday, I basically just lazed around the whole day until dinner time to meet with my family. Dad’s back in the country for a month-long vacation and this is our first time to meet and have a family dinner since he landed on the 25th. Of course, my two cute nephews were automatically in my care since 1) I love them so much 2) I love my brother so I’m helping him out because these two are so much to manage 3) because I missed them!
The older one, Miguel (5) is more mature now. From the spitting dragon of a kid, he now really listens, I can have a longer conversation with him, and since he goes to school, he’s basically a student for me. LOL. It’s strange that I my teacher-switch is turned on automatically whenever there are small kids around me. And I swear, if only I can lecture my brother and his wife about the way they spoiled their younger one and how we can work on his executive function (wtf), I would’ve. If I can.
I can, technically, but you see, my brother is like the game Minesweeper. Just when you think things are okay with him, he suddenly explodes, like those mine in the game. And I rather not deal with that, thank you very much.
Anyhow, tweaked a bit of my fic and then made this as my project teaser:
There’s a Twilight Zone vibe to it which I like and kinda fits the story, so yay!
I just spent the entire afternoon helping my older brother figure out how to make a Russel (“Up”, Pixar) costume for a gigantic easter egg.
He didn’t come with zero effort on his own, so “Eggy” (as we ended up calling him) initially looked like this:
He needed limbs! And what better way to grow an egg some arms and legs but to amputate someone. Unfortunately, the sentence was given to one of our furry dog stuffed toys. Thus, the hairiness.
Now, basically what my older brother needed–demanded–from me was that I make a pattern for the clothes since I’m “creative”.
Dude, lemme tell ya. Creativity has nothing to do with sewing. It’s all about skills and giving enough attention to your economics teacher in grade school. Pssh.
Well, I got creative alright.
So lo and behold! After four fucking hours of figuring out what life was about when you’re stuck in a deal you agreed for pizza and ice cream, you get creative to survive. To be fair, we were able to produce the patterns and prototype costumes he would present to his members tomorrow and they look decent, mind you.
In the end, here’s folk dancer, Eggy!
The picture couldn’t do justice to have us a peek of his skinny jeans my brother made with his big, rough hands. And yeah, a trip to a waxing salon would help heaps in the grooming angle.
Though I was reserving the afternoon to writing and organizing my media files, I was actually happy my brother sought my help. We never bonded over projects when we were kids in the same house. I also missed that living room bonding moments of him with mom and I.