06:17:07
You brought the ramen... right?
The whole world is celebrating it, and the mass media is just filled with the holiday's spirit. But there was one commercial in particular that moved me, and brought up a lot of questions and hidden desires about having a father.
It was Unilab's recent Bioflu commercial. In that commercial, and old man with a large build came in the room where a young man lay crumpled under his blanket, perspiring heavily. He came over to the young man's side and asked, "Anak,Kamusta na lagnat mo?" (translates as: "Son, How's your fever?"). "Mataas pa rin po, Pa, At ang sakit pa ng katawan ko." (My temperature's still high, and my body is starting to ache.") "Heto, mag-Bioflu ka." (Here, take some Bioflu). The father hands the medicine and watches his son take it. Then, he lay beside him on the bed and tucked him in, gently patting him on his butt and humming a low lullaby to make him fall asleep. The following scene continues the humming, but only the father is still asleep in the bed. His son had already worn his uniform and is preparing himself to go to work.
The commercial itself was simple, and very timely for Father's Day. (And I'm sure there will be some people who was encouraged to buy the medication in the future.) If I find out how, I will post a copy of the TV commercial here so you will see it.
But what struck me most was the father's care over his sick son.
Father, I have been sick a lot of times before, and I still buy medicines that range from P500-P2000, (sometimes all at the same time) just to get me back up on my feet again. As I grow up, I seldom get sick, but when I do, it's one that is sure to pin me down on my bed for days. Perhaps you know that I have asthma, father. Though I get attacks less and less this year because I was experiencing less stress than when I was still in school, I still have to keep on buying Symbicort and Ventolin from time to time to regulate these attacks. When I was a child, I was inflicted with all sorts of maladies, from fever (psychosomatic or not), to coughs, from sore eyes to jaundice, from allergy to skin asthma, All of this I suffered. All of this I endured. All of this, with only my mother by my side. And I lived long, long enough to create this blog dedicated to letters for you.
Where were you, father, when I was young and gasping for breath, having a near death experience and waking up not knowing that I fell asleep in the first place? Where were you, when I was throwing up everything I ate and could barely keep myself awake? Where were you, father, when I woke up in the middle of the night because I couldn't breathe and I almost had a heart attack? Where were you, father, when I got my teeth pulled out by the dentist because they were too rotten? Where were you, father, when a nerve in my feet got so painful, that I was worried I wouldnt be able to enroll myself? Where were you, father?
Did you know, father, that when I was experiencing all this, I had been wishing that they would bring me to the hospital, or that I end up dead? Because maybe if I died you would come home and be regretful and never leave my side again. I was desperate, father, to know if someone else cared for my existence. It was something that constantly haunts my being everyday.
These were not the only things I used to think about when I was a child.
I used to think about how you spend your FAther's day, all alone and out at sea. I wonder if you keep in your wallet the picture of me during my JS prom in your wallet and show it to all of your friends or look at it whenever you felt lonely? How would you react, father, if you knew that I've been practicing witchcraft and that I believe in destiny and in spirits? Had I had my first boyfriend, would you approve him, or get strict with me until we elope? What's your favorite color? Food? Flower? TV Show? When I had failed on my subjects, would you scold me like mad? what do you look like when your'e angry? if i were to give you a gift, would you keep it or throw it away?
Beyond all that, I keep on thinking if you really loved me and my mother, even for just a moment.
Today, Mama and I went out to the mall and ate stuffed pizzas at Sbarro while sharing a large glass of lemonade. it was a rare moment, to eat at a place we used to pass by before because it was too expensive. but it wasnt new to me that we're sharing the same drink, or the same food. we used to keep on doing that, father, whenever the two of us go out. she would buy a dish meant for a single person, and we would divide it between the two of us. back then, it used to be easy, since I ate and drank little. but now that I have grown up, my appetite grew as well. I could certainly finish off one meal serving, even if it seems that there is enough for two people. but still we buy a single serving, and divide it between us.
It was kinda surprising, actually, for a thought of you to pass my mind. I rarely think about you nowadays, except when people ask about your whereabouts. your name would be rarely mentioned in the house, and when it was, it would only bring back painful memories and Mama would become the fragile little lady that shattered when you left.
But frankly, father, the reason I wrote this, and the reason I set up this blog is not because of the pent up anger I had stored inside of me for years. its because I miss you, and that I wish our family was complete and normal.
Happy Father's Day, Papa.
