Happy birthday, Dad.
I am suddenly feeling insecure about writing. There are so many things I want to tell you but I don’t think I have the skills good enough to encapsulate everything in this letter. But, what the heck. It’s your 60th birthday, let me give it a shot.
First, I want to say sorry for all the heartaches I caused you and mom. Between the two of you, you were always the one who had less to say. Whenever I come home with unimaginable problems, you would always sit behind mom saying too little a word to make me understand fully what’s going on in your head. You’d often look at me more with questions rather than judgments. That look was you trying to understand me and my struggles. Yet, you would always be the first one by my side when I need some rescuing. From a simple doctor’s check up to a trouble in school, you have always been there. And always… always the first one to make me laugh.
Yet, I brought you one heartache after another. I failed to give you your simple requests. I am sorry. I could have been more. And it wasn’t even about fame and fortune or whatever else parents want from their kids. You just reared me to become more of a decent human being, someone with dignity and honor and integrity. Someone who knows that deciding to follow that stop light could mean the difference between life and death. Someone who falls in line even when others are not. Someone who obeys laws even when no one is looking. Someone who tells the truth even when there is no chance of being caught. And I fell short. And I am really sorry.
I guess the only way I could really make it up to you is by living my life a little better each day and hope that someday, I will live it as well as you did yours. I am not big on making promises, but this I can promise you Dad - everyday for the rest of my life, I will live it in a way that I think will make you proud of me and of yourself. I may fail as much as I will try but I will not stop until I get it right.
Next, thank you for the countless lessons you taught me. For the immeasurable love you made me feel, for the resonating laughter you made me experience, and most especially for the sperm cell you gave mom’s egg cell that formed me.=P
I remember you once told me that you do not subscribe to the belief that art is an expression of oneself. Your art serves one purpose alone, that is to make things beautiful. Little did I know that it was your way of sharing to me your principle in life. Life was simple for you. You take what you have to try and make things beautiful around you. You do what you can to make things a little less hard on you and on other people. It may not be much but you do what you can.
Your art, your designs, your sketches weren’t worth much. You’re no Picasso but you used it to make a life for us. With little that you had, you fed me, mom and ate, put us all through school, clothed us, put a roof over our head and made us a family.
You lived ever so simply. You didn’t concern yourself with material things simply because you couldn’t afford it. =) What amazes me, however, is your lack of angst towards the world. Life was unimaginably hard on you but you never blamed anyone for it, not even yourself. There were times, when you were a kid, when you didn’t eat for days. But I never heard you complain, never heard any bitterness in your voice. You relived each of those memories with fondness. Like that was the most adventurous stage of your life. Sometimes, I still wonder how you do it. How you go on everyday without anger, bitterness, not even sadness?
For you life is pretty simple – you go on because there is no other choice. You were born in this life, this time, this place. You could spend it cursing and crying or rockin’ and rollin. You’re too cool to curse and cry, of course. Yes, life was that simple to you – you breath in and out, you eat, you work, you make people laugh. It's so basic yet so real and it works.
Thank you for teaching me the real meaning of happiness. I used to think it is about having everything I want when I want it. You taught me that sometimes you have to feel sad at first, extremely sad even. Like the world is unfair, like you are sacrificing too much of yourself for other people, like you are trapped, like you just want to die or be angry. However, that is not an excuse to be selfish to the point of hurting or harming other people because once you reach rock bottom, things will get better. You don’t even have a choice. Things WILL get better. Then, your happiness will be complete knowing you got there without leaving hearts broken, lives shattered, people crying and by being a bigger person during a really hard situation. Happiness, I know now, is as much about the journey as it is the destination.
Thank you for teaching me the value of honesty. The world has a way of making the truth appear like an overrated concept. You made sure I am on the truth’s side all the time. It’s not always convenient, not always happy, but in the end, the truth makes everything worth it.
Thanks for loving mom the way you did and still do. Even as a child I saw the way you look at Mom. It was the kind of look that says “to hell with the world, I have you.” You loved my mom so deep that it survived routine, monthly PMS for the last 32 years, morning breath, immeasurable gain weight, ever evolving female drama. You loved her at her best and adored her at her worst. And it is because of you that I believe in unconditional love. I know for sure happy ever after is possible. It may not be happy all the time, but it’s happy at the end of it all.
Like any other girl, I dream of meeting the perfect man. He would be someone like you, only richer and with a six-pack abs. Kidding aside, I wanted someone like you. Someone who does his best to provide even if sometimes he falls short. Someone who makes me laugh even during the hardest times. Someone who is comfortable with who he is and who I am and what we have together. As I’ve said, someone like you.
However, looking at it now, I realized something. Mom was never your ideal girl as much as you were not his ideal man. Far from it actually unless you two are masochists. But you loved her nonetheless. She was the center of your universe. You didn’t have much but you gave her your all. I realized, that’s it. I can’t expect to find the right person. I can only try to BE the right person. It was never about how much you are loved, it has always been how much you love. I get that now.
Thank you for teaching me the value of laughter. Laughter is something you never took for granted or underestimated. It never solved any of our problems but it sure made the ride so d@mn worth it. Thank you for the laughters, Dad. Growing up would have been a lot harder without it.
Thanks Dad, for all of those and more. It was pretty cool growing up with you around.
There is still so much to say and I hope someday I’ll find the right words to be able to express it. For now, let me end by saying – happy happy happy birthday Dad. I love you. I could only wish that I become half the person that you are.
And like your idol, Elvis, keep on rockin’ and rollin’. Elvis is still in the building.
I am suddenly feeling insecure about writing. There are so many things I want to tell you but I don’t think I have the skills good enough to encapsulate everything in this letter. But, what the heck. It’s your 60th birthday, let me give it a shot.
First, I want to say sorry for all the heartaches I caused you and mom. Between the two of you, you were always the one who had less to say. Whenever I come home with unimaginable problems, you would always sit behind mom saying too little a word to make me understand fully what’s going on in your head. You’d often look at me more with questions rather than judgments. That look was you trying to understand me and my struggles. Yet, you would always be the first one by my side when I need some rescuing. From a simple doctor’s check up to a trouble in school, you have always been there. And always… always the first one to make me laugh.
Yet, I brought you one heartache after another. I failed to give you your simple requests. I am sorry. I could have been more. And it wasn’t even about fame and fortune or whatever else parents want from their kids. You just reared me to become more of a decent human being, someone with dignity and honor and integrity. Someone who knows that deciding to follow that stop light could mean the difference between life and death. Someone who falls in line even when others are not. Someone who obeys laws even when no one is looking. Someone who tells the truth even when there is no chance of being caught. And I fell short. And I am really sorry.
I guess the only way I could really make it up to you is by living my life a little better each day and hope that someday, I will live it as well as you did yours. I am not big on making promises, but this I can promise you Dad - everyday for the rest of my life, I will live it in a way that I think will make you proud of me and of yourself. I may fail as much as I will try but I will not stop until I get it right.
Next, thank you for the countless lessons you taught me. For the immeasurable love you made me feel, for the resonating laughter you made me experience, and most especially for the sperm cell you gave mom’s egg cell that formed me.=P
I remember you once told me that you do not subscribe to the belief that art is an expression of oneself. Your art serves one purpose alone, that is to make things beautiful. Little did I know that it was your way of sharing to me your principle in life. Life was simple for you. You take what you have to try and make things beautiful around you. You do what you can to make things a little less hard on you and on other people. It may not be much but you do what you can.
Your art, your designs, your sketches weren’t worth much. You’re no Picasso but you used it to make a life for us. With little that you had, you fed me, mom and ate, put us all through school, clothed us, put a roof over our head and made us a family.
You lived ever so simply. You didn’t concern yourself with material things simply because you couldn’t afford it. =) What amazes me, however, is your lack of angst towards the world. Life was unimaginably hard on you but you never blamed anyone for it, not even yourself. There were times, when you were a kid, when you didn’t eat for days. But I never heard you complain, never heard any bitterness in your voice. You relived each of those memories with fondness. Like that was the most adventurous stage of your life. Sometimes, I still wonder how you do it. How you go on everyday without anger, bitterness, not even sadness?
For you life is pretty simple – you go on because there is no other choice. You were born in this life, this time, this place. You could spend it cursing and crying or rockin’ and rollin. You’re too cool to curse and cry, of course. Yes, life was that simple to you – you breath in and out, you eat, you work, you make people laugh. It's so basic yet so real and it works.
Thank you for teaching me the real meaning of happiness. I used to think it is about having everything I want when I want it. You taught me that sometimes you have to feel sad at first, extremely sad even. Like the world is unfair, like you are sacrificing too much of yourself for other people, like you are trapped, like you just want to die or be angry. However, that is not an excuse to be selfish to the point of hurting or harming other people because once you reach rock bottom, things will get better. You don’t even have a choice. Things WILL get better. Then, your happiness will be complete knowing you got there without leaving hearts broken, lives shattered, people crying and by being a bigger person during a really hard situation. Happiness, I know now, is as much about the journey as it is the destination.
Thank you for teaching me the value of honesty. The world has a way of making the truth appear like an overrated concept. You made sure I am on the truth’s side all the time. It’s not always convenient, not always happy, but in the end, the truth makes everything worth it.
Thanks for loving mom the way you did and still do. Even as a child I saw the way you look at Mom. It was the kind of look that says “to hell with the world, I have you.” You loved my mom so deep that it survived routine, monthly PMS for the last 32 years, morning breath, immeasurable gain weight, ever evolving female drama. You loved her at her best and adored her at her worst. And it is because of you that I believe in unconditional love. I know for sure happy ever after is possible. It may not be happy all the time, but it’s happy at the end of it all.
Like any other girl, I dream of meeting the perfect man. He would be someone like you, only richer and with a six-pack abs. Kidding aside, I wanted someone like you. Someone who does his best to provide even if sometimes he falls short. Someone who makes me laugh even during the hardest times. Someone who is comfortable with who he is and who I am and what we have together. As I’ve said, someone like you.
However, looking at it now, I realized something. Mom was never your ideal girl as much as you were not his ideal man. Far from it actually unless you two are masochists. But you loved her nonetheless. She was the center of your universe. You didn’t have much but you gave her your all. I realized, that’s it. I can’t expect to find the right person. I can only try to BE the right person. It was never about how much you are loved, it has always been how much you love. I get that now.
Thank you for teaching me the value of laughter. Laughter is something you never took for granted or underestimated. It never solved any of our problems but it sure made the ride so d@mn worth it. Thank you for the laughters, Dad. Growing up would have been a lot harder without it.
Thanks Dad, for all of those and more. It was pretty cool growing up with you around.
There is still so much to say and I hope someday I’ll find the right words to be able to express it. For now, let me end by saying – happy happy happy birthday Dad. I love you. I could only wish that I become half the person that you are.
And like your idol, Elvis, keep on rockin’ and rollin’. Elvis is still in the building.
No comments