If you were here...

If you were here, how would you feel about me?

I learned from someone you speak English so well, impeccably fluent. I am now an English teacher, and you probably had not taught of that. I never knew really what you wanted me to be. How I wish we could have dinner, talking about a lot of things in English of your plans for me.

So you went to Ateneo, but you quit that school because you wanted to be a pilot. It's not anymore in Intramuros, it moved to Katipunan. I pass there often going to U.P. It must have not entered your imagination, that I would be getting a PhD in U.P. so I can soar like its eagle.

You trained my brothers so well that they could drive even when they were teens, and they knew much in auto-mechanics. I didn't opt to wear a blue-collar, but I pull my sleeves on my desk in front of a computer and with a variety of people. I knew nothing about car troubleshooting, and I just got my driving license so late. The only things I can get my hand dirty with are checking papers, gardening and cooking.

You were brilliant as a mechanic, though you did not take formal training in Engineering. I heard, you were offered a teaching position in an institute to teach auto-mechanic. I am now a teacher, though I didn't study for it. Not the ordinary teacher, but like you I enjoy the re-engineering stuff of it.

You enjoyed fixing engines, I get to enjoy fixing behavior and thinking processes. I know you had so many friends, as everywhere we would go, you know someone from there. Nobody spoke ill of you, nor you about anyone. I don't know what I have in me, but people just happen to like me, and I interest myself in getting along well with other people. But, like you, I keep myself firm, upright, yet level-headed.

Many sought your counsel, and they respect you so well for your advice. Now, I have to advise and counsel, students parents, teachers and even those executives in the corporate and government. I see you get so tired for doing that, but you still give them a good hand shake and a great smile. I don't give smile to everyone, but I return the happiness I receive to people who share me their time and sweet joys.

You were so generous, in everything and to everyone, even if so little will be left for you. You had the ingenuity to keep a livelihood and a family intact. Now, I have to earn for our living, for mama and also to help your grandchildren. That little skinny and sickly boy you use to carry has to carry so many with him in his success. I tire, but I keep going.

You cried when I delivered the graduation speech in my kindergarten. You could not hold your tears when that cheap gold medal was placed over my shoulders. You were so happy, that was why you treated us for a gallon of icecream. How would you feel if I would ask you to place the sablay over my grown body on my PhD graduation day?

Would you also buy me even a second-hand car, like you did for my Kuyas when they graduated high school? You thought you could fix that yellow car, for them. That thought was great indeed, even if the car left to rust. I still fancy that you could hand me a key for a car when I took home a dozen of medals in high school.

If you were here, I woud not really mind even if I had to walk you outside on a wheel chair, or feed you or dress you up, or wash you and cleanse your bed sores, or replace the gastric bag for you food waste. I wouldn't mind opening the albums so you could remember about your past. I wouldn't get tired to help you remember your name, even. Because, that name you gave me was also your name.

Happy father's day papa. I would never know how you feel about me now, but I know you are well where you are, as you had been for me and for us your family. I just hope, that whatever have I become gives you a real good smile. You just spent seven years with me while you were here, yet now I see you live in me in my life.

Oh, I just wonder, since you were a smoker and drinker till peptic ulcer took you away, would you jam with me as we puff our worries out and sip that high of life over bottles of beer?I love you, papa!