I thought I died. But no, here I am, again, writing a new post to an almost forgotten blog site of mine. Well actually I‘ve passed on several opportunities of writing the past few months. I didn’t feel I was just ready to invoke my frozen creativity and get on this keyboard to write whatever topic that comes to my mind. Maybe. Maybe not.
Rhetorically, I’ve written a lot of views on my current life lately, with each perspective comparable to a portal opened by my “totems”, such as: places I go to, workmates, videogame machines, movies, poems, and dead people. No matter what they are, there’s always a connection between them and my philosophies. And there are a lot of these inspirations around that they never become a problem. It’s usually a matter of finding some time to sit and type at a very slow pace of 30 wpm to get these thoughts published in the cyber world. And now, I had the opportunity and had decided not to let it pass.
As clich̩ as it may sound, an opportunity may come once in a lifetime Рlike that chance of getting voted as Prom King/Queen or being born on Christmas day (birthday celebrations will be a lot grander).
Well, there are some that never comes, yet we always dreamed of them.
Ironically, some opportunities would come when we didn’t want them, and then leave just when we needed them most.
But the worst is when they were just there, but then, we failed to see them - until they’re gone forever.
It has been a great opportunity for me to have a father that I look up to in almost all aspects of my life. It was a once in a lifetime chance to have a dad like him - one who would take us to church every Sunday when we were kids (and actually until I had the ability to have kids of my own).
He cooked Caldereta like no one else does.
He went to the market every Saturday afternoon or Sunday morning, and when I was with him, I’d walk behind to watch out for his pants because money would always fall off his pockets. I’d pick them up and keep them in my pocket (just for safeguarding until I spent them).
He’d take us anywhere his money can. He liked to travel, and drive long distances. Maybe, I got my lust for travelling from him.
After each Sunday morning mass, he would play the “swing medley” from Abba, and would dance with me (having no one else in the family that was interested in dancing). He was my first dance instructor, and I’m always proud of it.
When I was a kid, I’ve dreamt of being rich. Some of my classmates had parents who worked as managers and who provided them with new toys, clothes, and school stuff. Well, my parents were struggling. I had many siblings so even if my Dad worked as a government official (with a decent salary); I never got what I wanted. But I was not malnourished. My Dad provided us with basic things we needed and mom helped him out with budgeting and earning some more.
We didn’t become rich like I wanted.
My Dad admitted he had missed out on a few chances – winning the lotto as one of them. We were sometimes lacking. I realized there are just some opportunities that didn’t come, well at least before or for now or maybe never will. But that’s ok. You just look for something else.
Like how my Dad disciplined us, there were some opportunities that we just didn’t want. There were so many times he’d hit us with his belt after doing naughty things. Many nights he’d come home from work and none of us would want to stand up to open the gate for him.
Sometimes, his presence was an unwanted chance, an unwanted circumstance.
I always felt that I did mistakes not worthy of that stingy pain on my butt when I got spanked.
Time passed, and as my father grew older, so did I. I would commit greater mistakes that I regret of doing. Wrongs that I hoped I can reverse. Faults that I wished my old man would hit me with his belt so I can avoid them and keep them from further damaging my soul. But this opportunity left when he became old and I have become my own man.
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Things changed. I worked overseas. We talked a lot less often than before. But then, our talks had more depth. Although I never said I loved him, I would let him feel it. I did not get a clue.
One October night, I was talking to my mom on the phone. I heard his voice in the background saying he’d visit my grandparents’ graves on All Soul’s Day. He was asking for money. I said "Yes, no problem". I said goodbye to my Mom. After a few hours, I received a phone call, and was told that he is gone.
I hoped I had talked to him on the phone that night.
I wished I had told him that I was working this hard so I can continue everything that he had started and make them grow.
I wanted him to know that he didn’t have to worry about us because he did a great job raising us.
I wished I have told him that I love him. I had the chance, always had, but didn’t take it. Now I can never have that opportunity, even if I give up everything.
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I am one of my Dad’s totems for I can feel his spirit in me. His blood runs through me, and his works are found on who I am today. This I can never change and never will. And if I will have the opportunity to be born again, I will still, without a thought, choose him as my father. For who I am is what he was.
Rest in Peace, Dad. I love you.
Ernesto Angeles Javier
1938-2011
