I was on my computer searching for Hello Kitty pictures or something pink to use for my scrapbook. I decided to go online on Yahoo! Messenger and almost immediately I read a “Hi” from my Kuya Joey. Kuya Joey is my paternal cousin who lives in the US and, recently, we have been in constant online communication. He is about 16 years older than me. We chatted for a while and he told me things he remembered about me when I was a little girl. It turned out there is only a little he could recall because he went to Saudi Arabia and Paris to work and his family eventually settled in California where his mom, brother and sister live. He said “Ang sungit mo, lagi kang nakayakap kay Ninang Ised (my mom) or sa daddy mo. You were spoiled!” He teasingly told me I was adopted. Duh? I am close to getting sick and tired of people telling me I am the exact replica of my dad.
And this brought my thoughts to my father. My parents told me they very happy when I was born. They waited 7 long years for a daughter and maybe that was the reason why I was quite spoiled when I was growing up. I was a Daddy’s girl. I remember I would always climb to my dad’s lap asking him to carry me. We had lots of bonding moments. My fondest memory is when we would sing and dance together. My dad has a good singing voice and he plays the guitar. Maybe he thought his talent might rub off on me if we had some musical activities together. To his disappointment, it didn’t. But those special moments are always marked No. 1 among my childhood memories.
Much as we enjoyed ourselves then, it did not last. Times were getting harder, the family was getting bigger, bills were increasing and four innocent young faces were looking up to Daddy, counting on him to jumpstart their big dreams. Daddy had to find a better way to provide for his family. So he decided to go to the Middle East, which during that time, promised better lives for millions of Filipino overseas contract workers and their families.
It was tough living without Daddy. Our family counted the lonely days spent without him. No Daddy on birthdays, Christmases, graduation days…we missed him so much. I imagined it was way tougher for him, though. Being thousands of miles away from his family, working hard on the deserts, exposed to extreme heat or cold, and under the strict laws of Saudi Arabia, the homesickness must have been an ordeal. My mother always reminded us that. And so I strived hard to please Daddy and make him proud of me. I was not a bright kid. As a matter of fact, I couldn’t recite the alphabet without singing the Alphabet Song. But once I did my best and struggled to be in the Top 2 spots of my class in grade school. I was so excited to tell Daddy about the good news, in my young mind visualizing how big his smile would be, how proud he’d be of his little girl. And he was. As a prize, he sent me a badminton racket. That was huge!
However, growing up without his physical presence was not easy. Yes, we enjoyed the boxes of chocolates, nuts, dates and shoes and the occasional Saudi gold jewelries that he sent. Our faces all lit up watching our mom count the crisp dollar bills he sent door-to-door or through a vacationing co-worker. But quite frankly, my brothers and I missed out a lot on his guidance. Yes, there were those bits and pieces of advice and general reminders whenever he wrote letters, sent voice tapes or talked to us on the phone occasionally. But I guess my mother spared my dad of getting bothered with most of the problems with us kids and handled them herself single-handedly. His 30-day vacations every 2 years were better spent happily instead of scolding and nagging his children.
His absence went on for 13 (if my calculation is right) long years. As I grew bigger and older, I gradually learned to live my life without him but never was a time that I took it against him. I was fully aware of the sacrifices he made just so he could be a better provider and, limited as he was, he tried to be a good long-distance father to us.
After building a nice modest house and setting up a little savings to start a small business, my dad finally decided to come home to the Philippines for good. He left a 5-year old little girl and came back to a grown-up young lady of 14. I saw off the airport a much younger and fun dad, and now I see his receding hairline, patches of gray strands and a few lines around his eyes and on his forehead. The sad part is, we have outgrown the bond that we used to have. The precocious little girl has metamorphosed into an independent young woman with a mind of her own. Maybe in Daddy’s mind he was singing “Is this the little girl I carried? Is this the little girl I played?…Sunrise…Sunset…”His long absence did not give him the chance to actually witness and gradually adjust to my transformation into an adult. Maybe all of a sudden he was scared. How was he going to handle this? POEA should sponsor a seminar for returning OFWs on this topic. And me, how was I going to deal with my long-lost father? The last thing I wanted was a pair of watching, probing eyes. And I absolutely hated being asked questions. Excuse me… being subject to interrogation. It made me nervous and made me tell lies. My dad became a very strict conservative father. Maybe he thought it was time to take up the role from where he left. I felt very restrained every time that he was around. I thought I lost my freedom and my basic constitutional rights under our democracy! We argued and clashed a lot. The relationship was so strained that there was a time I wished he never came back.
Thankfully, time has a way of healing and restoring relationships. I know, too, that my mom and dad fervently prayed about it. The adjustment process was difficult and hurt quite a bit but my dad and I did it, went past it with victory. Plus a few more gray hair and a wider bald spot on Daddy’s head. Now that I am older, I have a deeper appreciation of all the things Daddy did for me and for the rest of my family. I also thank my Nanay for being a good mother and a strong woman who stood by this family through its ups and downs.
But I especially thank you, Dad. I am happy you are with us. I appreciate your role in my life then and now. I know you miss the little girl you carried and sang and danced with. I’m still here…only in a much more mature body and mind and a stronger spirit. But I still am that little girl. AND I WILL ALWAYS BE YOUR LITTLE GIRL.
I love you, Dad.
And this brought my thoughts to my father. My parents told me they very happy when I was born. They waited 7 long years for a daughter and maybe that was the reason why I was quite spoiled when I was growing up. I was a Daddy’s girl. I remember I would always climb to my dad’s lap asking him to carry me. We had lots of bonding moments. My fondest memory is when we would sing and dance together. My dad has a good singing voice and he plays the guitar. Maybe he thought his talent might rub off on me if we had some musical activities together. To his disappointment, it didn’t. But those special moments are always marked No. 1 among my childhood memories.
Much as we enjoyed ourselves then, it did not last. Times were getting harder, the family was getting bigger, bills were increasing and four innocent young faces were looking up to Daddy, counting on him to jumpstart their big dreams. Daddy had to find a better way to provide for his family. So he decided to go to the Middle East, which during that time, promised better lives for millions of Filipino overseas contract workers and their families.
It was tough living without Daddy. Our family counted the lonely days spent without him. No Daddy on birthdays, Christmases, graduation days…we missed him so much. I imagined it was way tougher for him, though. Being thousands of miles away from his family, working hard on the deserts, exposed to extreme heat or cold, and under the strict laws of Saudi Arabia, the homesickness must have been an ordeal. My mother always reminded us that. And so I strived hard to please Daddy and make him proud of me. I was not a bright kid. As a matter of fact, I couldn’t recite the alphabet without singing the Alphabet Song. But once I did my best and struggled to be in the Top 2 spots of my class in grade school. I was so excited to tell Daddy about the good news, in my young mind visualizing how big his smile would be, how proud he’d be of his little girl. And he was. As a prize, he sent me a badminton racket. That was huge!
However, growing up without his physical presence was not easy. Yes, we enjoyed the boxes of chocolates, nuts, dates and shoes and the occasional Saudi gold jewelries that he sent. Our faces all lit up watching our mom count the crisp dollar bills he sent door-to-door or through a vacationing co-worker. But quite frankly, my brothers and I missed out a lot on his guidance. Yes, there were those bits and pieces of advice and general reminders whenever he wrote letters, sent voice tapes or talked to us on the phone occasionally. But I guess my mother spared my dad of getting bothered with most of the problems with us kids and handled them herself single-handedly. His 30-day vacations every 2 years were better spent happily instead of scolding and nagging his children.
His absence went on for 13 (if my calculation is right) long years. As I grew bigger and older, I gradually learned to live my life without him but never was a time that I took it against him. I was fully aware of the sacrifices he made just so he could be a better provider and, limited as he was, he tried to be a good long-distance father to us.
After building a nice modest house and setting up a little savings to start a small business, my dad finally decided to come home to the Philippines for good. He left a 5-year old little girl and came back to a grown-up young lady of 14. I saw off the airport a much younger and fun dad, and now I see his receding hairline, patches of gray strands and a few lines around his eyes and on his forehead. The sad part is, we have outgrown the bond that we used to have. The precocious little girl has metamorphosed into an independent young woman with a mind of her own. Maybe in Daddy’s mind he was singing “Is this the little girl I carried? Is this the little girl I played?…Sunrise…Sunset…”His long absence did not give him the chance to actually witness and gradually adjust to my transformation into an adult. Maybe all of a sudden he was scared. How was he going to handle this? POEA should sponsor a seminar for returning OFWs on this topic. And me, how was I going to deal with my long-lost father? The last thing I wanted was a pair of watching, probing eyes. And I absolutely hated being asked questions. Excuse me… being subject to interrogation. It made me nervous and made me tell lies. My dad became a very strict conservative father. Maybe he thought it was time to take up the role from where he left. I felt very restrained every time that he was around. I thought I lost my freedom and my basic constitutional rights under our democracy! We argued and clashed a lot. The relationship was so strained that there was a time I wished he never came back.
Thankfully, time has a way of healing and restoring relationships. I know, too, that my mom and dad fervently prayed about it. The adjustment process was difficult and hurt quite a bit but my dad and I did it, went past it with victory. Plus a few more gray hair and a wider bald spot on Daddy’s head. Now that I am older, I have a deeper appreciation of all the things Daddy did for me and for the rest of my family. I also thank my Nanay for being a good mother and a strong woman who stood by this family through its ups and downs.
But I especially thank you, Dad. I am happy you are with us. I appreciate your role in my life then and now. I know you miss the little girl you carried and sang and danced with. I’m still here…only in a much more mature body and mind and a stronger spirit. But I still am that little girl. AND I WILL ALWAYS BE YOUR LITTLE GIRL.
I love you, Dad.
