Tatay kong di kalbo

Every summer until college, my cousins and I were shipped off to our grandparents in Bohol. There were no telephones at that time but we would receive my mother’s typewritten letters signed “Mama Memie” every 2 weeks or so. Whose mother sends her children typewritten letters anyway?

That summer of 1981, no typewritten letter arrived but a telegram came saying “Papa is critical. Love, Mama.”

I asked an older relative what “critical” meant. She told me she did not even finish highschool, she had no idea. So I asked for a dictionary, there was none in my Lola Dading’s house.

As I waited for explanation, that confusing telegram was being passed from one relative to another, eliciting solemn and sullen expressions. When I pressed for answers, they would rearrange their faces and studiously swerved from my curiosity.

Two lessons learned: (1) Adults could not be trusted (2) “Critical” is a bad word.

Four days later, I saw my father inside a dark brown casket. My grandparents were so devastated while my mother put up a brave front. But not brave enough to deliver the eulogy. So I did, coached by one of my father’s closest friends.

From then on, I would compose eulogies for my father in my mind. Some wrote themselves in my journal.

Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to travel this earth ably accompanied by a father. It’s been 28 years this month since we lost him. I will always carry the weight of nothingness, I guess and as Marius mourned for his comrades in “Les Miserables”: There’s a grief that can’t be spoken and the pain goes on an on. Empty chairs and empty tables…”

Oi, kitchen-sink drama.

The feeling of emptiness does me a lot of good, actually. It forces me to set my sight on what I actually have which isn’t much but I am grateful. Plus, I try to live by Goethe’s code and I think everybody should:

“A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture everyday of his life in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful implanted in the human soul.”