Dear Papa

When my uncle, your elder brother, invited me to fly to Marbel to attend the grand reunion of your clan from your mother’s side, I made up reasons not to come. Some of it was true, some were not. Instead, I chose to join in a zombie-infested fun run. Besides, I was never really close to your side of the family.

I was half-hearted. Part of me wanted to go and see you but another part of me stopped me from doing so. 

Looking back, I don’t even remember the last time I saw you. Was it 5, or 6 years ago? And honestly, I wasn’t even sure if I miss you. As far as I can remember, our memories together stopped when I was in 6^th grade. I practically grew up without you. Back then, I didn’t understand. I just had to live with it.

But recalling the times I had with you, those were the best. I remember I was your little girl; I was a Papa’s girl. 

Isn’t it that you were the one who gave me my name?

When I was in grade school, I used to sleep at the pull-out bed beside you and mama. Every morning as I wake up, you were the first one I was looking for.

I loved it every time you asked me what I wanted to eat even though you know all my favorites – pochero, ripe mango, banana (saba), and siopao.

I loved it every time mamang sorbetero passed by the house and you’d tell me it was just the sound of your keys and not from his bell. Of course, in the end you’d still buy me ten-peso worth of dirty ice cream. At that time, it was already one big glass to my delight. 

I loved it how you acted as if you were mad at mom for scolding me.

I loved it how you favored me over my siblings.

I loved it how you were so thoughtful to follow me at school while I had a girl scout camping just to give me an extra allowance. 

I loved seeing and hearing you played my name, your favorite song on the guitar.

I loved seeing how good you were at playing chess.

I loved it every time you make kinilaw and leche flan.

I loved it even seeing you clean a gun, because you used to be a soldier.

The list is long. 

I just loved how you spoiled me with basically anything and everything.  

However, I also have a long list of the things I didn’t like about you. Maybe it’s longer.

But I refuse to actually list it here. There is no reason to. I only want to remember the good things on people, more so from my father.

Notice I referred to it as ‘things I didn’t like’ because I also refuse to use ‘hate’, even though it’s the opposite of love. 

I don’t hate you. At least that’s one thing I am sure of.

Hate is such a strong word. In can affect one’s life, but in a negative way.

It will only lead to an emotional baggage. It will make your heart carry so many burdens. 

To hate is like living your life eating only junk foods; thereby slowly killing yourself – and your relationships with others. It is very unhealthy.

So why hate? How can I hate the person who’s the reason of my very existence? If not for you, Pa, I wouldn’t be here. You gave me my life. That is something I’ll owe you forever. 

It is just unfortunate why the things that happened had to happen. 

Why to us? Why to our family?

Perhaps if you have been a good and responsible head of the family, things will be different by 360 degrees. We will not be in this (complicated) situation. Human as I am, I went thru that stage where I had so many questions; I had so many what-ifs. There is no doubt I love the independence I am getting from living alone. It is liberating. Sometimes though, I can’t help but wonder if how things are now if we all still live under the same roof. 

But it’s already part of the past. And along with age comes maturity so I’ve long accepted the fact that we will never be together again as a family. 

There is just one thing I’ll always wish we had – a family picture. 

I know we have tons of pictures as a child; while we were growing up; school pictures; and pictures from various family celebrations. But why we never had one where we are complete and together as a family? 

I remember there actually was. The same picture displayed on our living room back then. You were all there- you, mom, nene, toto, inday. While me? I was there too. Only faceless, as I was still inside mama’s womb. 

I just wanted to have something to hold on to. Something which will remind me that, once, we were happy together. We were complete.

I guess that will only remain a dream for me.

So many things have had happened. I’m done with all the wallowing and crying. I trust God. Cliché as it may sound but I believe there is always a reason for everything.

I don’t know what made me write this, maybe because I saw a picture of you from the reunion in Facebook. I barely recognized you. I can’t believe how much you’ve aged. I felt a twinge in my chest. And it struck me. I actually miss you. I miss my Papa.

Why won’t I when we only talk for a maximum of 4 times a year – on my birthday, on your birthday, on Christmas day, and on New Year’s Eve. In fact, it’s not even a ‘talk’, technically speaking. We just exchange one or two text messages.

I am sorry if I have been distant all these years. Please know that I have long forgiven you for whatever it is that you’ve done and keep on doing, and for all the pains you’ve caused my mama and us. Let us all just move on and be happy, albeit apart from each other.

I know I’m sometimes bad at keeping promises. But I’ll do my best to make it up to you.

I can’t thank God enough for hitting me with this realization while it’s not too late yet.

You’re still my father, while I’m still your little girl and your bunso. Nothing can ever change that fact.

And I will always love you, no matter what.

With hopes of seeing you the soonest,

Aubrey

good ol' times with pop