tatay

i cant stop thinking and bringing memories: i will say a little about my father & I-

• he was a father that will threaten me to use a charcoal to practice writing if I dont
• he was a father who will made me fill up a dam of water to practice reading if i dont.  filling-up a dam back then in philippines is excruciating if you think about it now.  you will be in a long line with other kids, you'll pick-up a fight or your enemy is waiting for a lucky day that you will be there. you'll be lucky to go home with a clean face or avoided rolled-out in muds. of course, i will choose to fill-up a dam.

you can now imagine a long years living with him avoiding his shadow of fear or duel to make yourself a better person and what's wrong with that? 

the next thing i know, i was reading endlessly. had read 'gone with the winds' in my early teens. kane & abel, mario puzo's books and pick-up mills & boon along with the other books flying out of the shelves back then.

i won best penmanship in class and helped classmates to work with their homework.  i was a teen with money, street wise and use every talent i posses.  i sneak out from home to play chess in the corner of the street with kids a lot older than me to win some bucks.  what kind of a daughter iam to my father? not knowing what to do next and after next.  i am not a bad person and for what i will do is just what we call 'hyper'.

i once read a poem to my parents whose now together again:

Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you, And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts, For they have their own thoughts.

emphasizing and reading the bold words.

the battle did not end and iam a better person because someone did not gave up on me.  i am one lucky person who had an opportunity to work overseas and every single letter i received from him will always makes me cry.  it was not abusive nor blame.  it was a fatherly letter to a daughter who always care. i cried because i was so guilty how hard i fought him. i run-away from home not only once and only to go home with a father with an open arms to accept a daughter again.

what more? he is not my real father - he is my step-father! through out the years i did not fail to let him know how sorry i was and how grateful i am.