March 4, 2011

Dear Father,
I don’t know how to begin this but I’ll start it anyway. I know no matter how I begin this you will eventually understand my point, you know me enough that words need not be spoken to bridge the gap between our communication. But I like putting this in words; it is somehow therapeutic as talking to you face-to-face, heart-to-heart, and we both know the present circumstances does not allow that to happen. So let’s just maximize the available resources we have, or shall I say, the available resources I have.

 
I really miss you. I like to begin this long and tiring narration with that appealing phrase which I know makes your soul happy, literary and figuratively. Also, it is easier for me to say this knowing I have curved a smile in your face, if you have retained one. I wonder how many times did I made your smile when you were still here, I don’t know, you have always been reticent on your emotions, except anger. But now I understand how anger can break the seemingly unbreakable silence in men, I have understood it through experience, my own “anger experience”. Also, I really don’t know if you were serious in saying to me that I should take law as a profession due to my aggressive reasoning when I was young, because seriously, I am thinking to take it after college. By the way, I will be graduating this April, and by hook or by crook I will be an Industrial Engineer this year. I am happy knowing I have surpassed the degree; I am saying it as if it’s done. The course is not easy, more so, it is next to being hard, at least on your standards, you have always been that way, never contended, never stopped aiming the highest possible peak of the mountain, even the “thing” did not stopped you from fulfilling your dreams, our dreams.

 
I will be graduating without flying colors or medals for academic achievements, but I have gained distinctions and awards for leadership excellence. You have always taught me to be that way, remember when I was crying over my unfinished project way back in elementary? You told me to finish it by myself no matter how hard it may be or how ugly the result is, you taught me there how to stand on my own and be the leader of my own worries. I thank you for that, and I thank you for all the things you taught me, you have always been present in my academic journey.

 
I don’t know if I have told you these things way back when you can easily hear my voice or can easily read my words. I don’t want to say my regrets; instead I want to proclaim my victory, your victory. But forgive me, I can’t say it whole heartedly, probably I am not contended, I am not finish with my battle and may not have won half of it, there is so much more outside the battle grounds of my college journey, and for that I feel so little compared to what you envisioned me to be. I know I have disappointed you the day I closed the gates of your UP dream, you have always wanted me to be there, and I have always been in opposition to your plans. I don’t know, probably I am just being rebellious that time.
They say you were proud of me the day I received the most outstanding student leader of the year, but I rather prefer to hear it from you, but you can’t, you were not there anymore, so I decided to keep the award on myself and went home as if nothing happened. I want you to see it personally; I like to see how you read the commendations about me and hold the medal as if it was from Olympics or from Nobel, but you can’t, you were not there, at least physically. Probably you have saw it basing on other belief, but I like to see you seeing it, I like to see you touching it, feeling it as if it worth an entire vault of gold.

 
I don’t know why I am saying these things, but believe me, I really want to say this so long that every time I started doing it, my fingers just can’t type the letters. The idea of talking to you just breaks my confidence, you were too high, too honor that I kneel myself just to say “I love you” and “I am doing all of these to make you happy,” but I can’t, you were not here to see me kneeling. I should have cried more the day you left us, I should have shout my heart out just to avoid nights like this, but I can’t, you never wanted me to cry, you never wanted to see me expressing sorrow over spoiled milk, but you were never a spoiled milk, you are the blood that sustain the veins of
my courage. But still, you were not here.

 
I always wanted to see you on my graduation, I always wanted to hear you clapping after hearing our surname on the commencement exercise, but I can’t, you will not be there, at least as far as my eyes can captivate, I want it for real, I don’t want it superficial. I just miss you so badly, that I wish you were here, even just for a day.

 

 

*Written weeks before my college graduation.
**Photo courtesy of guardian.co.uk

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