Leaving A Trail

He used to start his tales with, “Noong maliit pa ako…”  I’d butt in before he can say more, “Daddy, hanggang ngayon maliit ka pa rin!”  He’d cheerfully snap, “’alanghiya kang bata ka.”  My petite father’s many inches shorter than his brood but he stands tall and proud.

A typical no-vice but not ‘killjoy’ dad.  We’re left under his care when Mom left for the US .  Dad didn’t make it to Libya when war broke out in the Middle East so Mom went abroad instead.  He was left with us and perform the very noble task of  sole-parenting his then 11, 10, and 8 year old children.

Alak, babae, sugal – those were vices Dad never got himself involved in.  Unlike the many espouses of OFWs left back home who squander money on vices, Dad manages the household well and busies himself with many productive activities.  Ornamental plants and vegetables were grown in the yard.  He doesn’t drink anything stronger than coffee.  He hates cigarettes.  Singing is his passion.  We’d brace ourselves when he’s with the music player. We’re left with no choice but to listen.  Haay apo, he’s got no golden voice but he definitely has a golden heart.

Manong Abe (broABEar) said that we are blessed with a wonderful dad.  The problem is, masyado syang mabait.  Kaya kami tuloy, mabait lang pag tulog.  Not always though.  Dad served as our inspiration and ‘konsensya’ sa mga kalokohan ng not-so-good nyang mga anak.  That’s why we’ve grown and developed ourselves more on a ‘consequence method’ brought upon by our actions and inactions in our studies, love affairs, and careers.  Ilang balikbayan boxes na ng pocketbooks ang nababasa ni Dad.  Kaya tuloy kami ng mga manong ko, bookworms na rin.  And no matter how high-tech our gadgets and computers are, reading books’ still our forte, which will be imparted to our offsprings, the way we learned from dear Dad.

A referee to his squabbling kids, Dad bought sets of boxing gloves and shove it to us if he see us fighting.  The boys versus each other or me versus one of them.  He calls a time-out if a face turn so red from the punches.  Dad raised two and a half  boys — I, a tomboy, with two older brothers.  When we’ve outgrown the gloves, Dad’s body’s the shield he put between us.  “Hwag ganyan, kapatid mo yan,” he scolds when one’s angry and raring to wring the other’s neck.

Ping-pong table was built for us to play on.  Chess’ an everyday game.  (Today, Jus plays chess with 8-year old cousin Ram.)  We had constant battle in scrabble.  That’s when my love of words began.  When telephone was uncommon in the 1980s, he pushes pen and paper to us for writing to Mom, stating that this would cheer her up in the States.  Today, he’d often remind us to phone her.

Dad didn’t rely on Mom’s remittances alone but helped in the finances in any way he possibly can.  He’s a photographer, tricycle driver, swine and poultry raiser, and had gotten into sorts of small businesses.  He’s a calm, quiet, peaceful man known to many as Kuya Greg and “Daddy” to my college friends.

I brought home a girl friend on a schoolbreak.  Bing watched amusedly as I hug Dad and told him, “Hmmm. Amoy sanggol si Daddy.”  He said to me, “Thank you, sweetheart!”  To Bing, “Ang galing mambola ng anak ko, noh?”  I then went on, “Totoo naman, ‘ddy, amoy sanggol ka.  Sanggol na kambing!”  Dad got tears in his eyes from laughing.  Bing spread the word in school to the amusement of everyone.  I was considered fortunate for dad who knows how to take a joke good-naturedly.  Some kids won’t get away with anything like that with a hard-up, humorless parent.

Dad’s second stroke on January 2007 was the most severe test in his life and in our family.  Half of his body was paralyzed, forcing broABEar to stay in the hospital with him for seven sleepless nights.  Financial and moral support was provided by me when I was still in Hong Kong and manong Glenn in Korea .  With our very limited resources, we’re able to overcome everything.  It’s only through our prayers, my brother’s instinct to help our father, and Dad’s powerful determination to survive that let our man overcome this tough challenge.

BroABEar drastically decided to take Dad home to Dagupan City because his condition’s worsening due to the hospital environment, plus the escalating hospital bills, and he’s worried of  my brother’s family responsibities.  Nobody else can help them there.  BroABEar drove him directly to his house from the hospital.  Only then were they able to make a sigh of relief.

Everyday broABEar carry Dad from his bedroom upstairs to the bathroom below to bathe him.  His children’s yaya cannot do that because Dad’s shy!  He tease him in the process, “Tingnan mo, Daddy, noong maliit ako, ikaw kumakarga sa akin.  Ngayon baliktad na. Karga na kita’t pinapaliguan pa.” Balik naman ni Dad, “Tinataihan mo naman ako noon!”  And they both laughed.

Supported walk exercises, to bring back the strength of his muscles and nerves damaged by the stroke, was regularly done.  We couldn’t afford a professional Physical Therapist so a blind refloxologist was summoned to massage Dad’s paralyzed body.  Those regular visits by the gifted, blind therapist helped a lot in Dad’s recovery.

During this ordeal, someone’s also suffering and trying his best to remain strong while alone in our house in Sison, an hour and a half  drive from Dagupan.  My son Jus, whom Dad’s been looking after since birth, lives with him in Sison before the stroke.  Difficult situations teach us a whole lot.  Dad’s proud he’s raising a dependable, responsible young man in Jus.  Confucius said, “Crisis is an opportunity.”  In my manong Abe’s words, “the crisis gave us an opportunity to learn, discover who our real friends are, renew and strengthen more our bond with family and God, and see a brighter perspective in life.”

Dad’s not yet done with raising kids.  He knew we still need him so he fought real hard and refused to succumb to a crippling stroke.  Now he’s back on his feet, walking unaided, tending his garden, singing his songs and goofing around with his old kids and young grandkids.  My hello-tatay-kong-pangit greeting is answered by his “ Para mo rin sinabing pangit ka dahil mana ka sa akin”.

Twenty-eight years apart from Mom, Dad remains a loyal husband, still loves her immensely.  Mom feels the same way.  We’ve given him enormous headaches and heartaches but, despite his fragile look, this sweet man’s a tower of strength.  Unbreakable.  His love glues the family together.  Scattered in four countries, he continues to build bridges across the seas for us.  My brothers heed Dad’s example, being doting husbands and loving fathers.  And I, at giving my best shot on being a mom and dad to my son, while in my absence, Dad gives me a hand in raising Jus.

Anyone hearing my animated story-telling about Dad would think I’m proud of and love him immensely.  I am. I certainly do.  Giving me no reason to make fun of his height anymore, Dad learned to begin his tales with, “Noong kabataan ko…”

*A Father’s Day tribute to all Dads left behind by OFWs. Published in True Friends Newsmag (HK Edition; Cover story for June 2008 issue)

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