Happy Birthday, Papa!

I try to forget things that make me sad. I guess that's my way of surviving.

When my father died, people were really shocked and surprised on how fast I moved on. I smiled and laughed with other people. I showed them that I was okay. Seeing me like that, they said that maybe I didn't love him that much. Maybe I was too young to understand. Maybe I hated him for not being the father I wanted him to be.  I was eleven at that time.

The truth is, I tried not to care. I tried not to think of him because it hurts me. I wanted to be angry because he left us, he left me. I wanted other people to see me as a strong and independent person because that’s what I have to be. Even my relatives hated me for being that way but they didn't know that I always weep every night. I cry myself to sleep all the time because I couldn't bear the thought of being alone and not able to see the man who would cradle me when I’m sick.

The one and only picture left of my father.

During the morning, I was the superwoman everyone dreams to be. I consoled my mother and siblings. I attended to their needs. I went to school and tried not to mess things up by crying. I tried to be normal. At night, I was a vulnerable and miserable little girl who just wanted to be comforted by someone but wasn't able to receive that from anyone.

I did my best to move on from that dreadful experience. I busied myself with school works and tried making friends. I joined clubs and organizations to distract myself. However, I think the negative feelings inside me kept me from being happy. My tears would suddenly fall from my eyes unknowingly. So I struggled hard to bury everything deep down my consciousness where I can’t reach and remember it anymore.

In our household, we barely celebrate my father’s birthday or even his death anniversary. I don’t even remember my mother insist of doing so. Thence, we became accustomed to let August 17 and October 11 just pass by. On the other hand, I, myself, still wish that my father is still with us. I have a lot to ask him. There are a lot of things I want him to prove to me but they are now useless because they will forever remain unanswered. I just have to accept that he is not coming back ever, not anymore.

I still adore my father even though he was not the perfect father. I learned from him that men do cry. He was the first man to cry in front of me. I have learned that no matter the struggles between a husband and a wife you will and always will attend to your responsibilities as parents. That a parent can commit mistakes but in the end they will still choose family over anything.

Lastly, I learned that the most important people in your life die to make your life easier and to make you a better person. Because in the end, you will be a wiser person who understands life in a much better perspective. A person who will fully understand the meaning of being alive. A person who understands the cost and importance of having someone in his/her life.