i didn't think i'd cry so hard when you left. i didn't think i'd regret not trying hard enough to see you before the life left your eyes.
but i did. i regret it. so much.
and i don't even know why. i guess.. it's true what they say. when you get to the end you start to think about the beginning.
and in the beginning you were my father. eventhough i've always known you weren't. eventhough i've always wondered if that was how you felt... my father. was i ever a daughter to you? or have you always seen me as what you've always called me? a responsibility. an excess baggage of the woman you chose to be your wife.
i may never know how you really felt towards me.
but i will always know, and i will never forget that you took me in. i will always remember that when i was young, everybody told me that my father left me. but never, not even once, have i ever felt that i didn't have a father. because you were there. i wouldn't even be calling you my stepdad if i never learned that word; and if people didn't wonder why Kuya Josel and I had a different surname from the rest of the family.
along with the sentiment that you were always
too strict with me, i will always remember that, if it weren't for you, we, my mom, my kuya, and i, might still be living in a rodent-infested shanty in a street full of poverty-ridden families whose daughters get pregnant at an age below 20.
or maybe not...
but i wouldn't know that. all i know is the strong house, the not-so-perfect-but-fun-and-close-knit family, and the comfortable life that i grew up in when you took me and my mom and my brother in.
it has always been a love-and-hate relationship between us. but sometimes, even real father-and-daughter relationships have that. malyn is your real daughter. and she sometimes hated you, too. so i guess my angst and frustrations were still within legal limit of a normal, healthy father-daughter relationship.
and whatever shortcomings, whatever wrong decisions you may have made later in your life have no longer affected mine. you've made your impact long before i left home.
Dad, i have always loved you and hated you and feared you and respected you the way any daughter would love and hate and fear and respect her own father. You took me in, and raised me the best way you know how. I may not have the best and happiest life on earth, but I turned out just fine. And I will always have you to thank for that.
Inspite of all the words that were said, and despite all the words left unsaid, between us... THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING, Dad.
my heart grieves. but i find comfort in knowing that you're finally healed in the arms of our Lord. Rest in peace, Dad...
but i did. i regret it. so much.
and i don't even know why. i guess.. it's true what they say. when you get to the end you start to think about the beginning.
and in the beginning you were my father. eventhough i've always known you weren't. eventhough i've always wondered if that was how you felt... my father. was i ever a daughter to you? or have you always seen me as what you've always called me? a responsibility. an excess baggage of the woman you chose to be your wife.
i may never know how you really felt towards me.
but i will always know, and i will never forget that you took me in. i will always remember that when i was young, everybody told me that my father left me. but never, not even once, have i ever felt that i didn't have a father. because you were there. i wouldn't even be calling you my stepdad if i never learned that word; and if people didn't wonder why Kuya Josel and I had a different surname from the rest of the family.
along with the sentiment that you were always
too strict with me, i will always remember that, if it weren't for you, we, my mom, my kuya, and i, might still be living in a rodent-infested shanty in a street full of poverty-ridden families whose daughters get pregnant at an age below 20.
or maybe not...
but i wouldn't know that. all i know is the strong house, the not-so-perfect-but-fun-and-close-knit family, and the comfortable life that i grew up in when you took me and my mom and my brother in.
it has always been a love-and-hate relationship between us. but sometimes, even real father-and-daughter relationships have that. malyn is your real daughter. and she sometimes hated you, too. so i guess my angst and frustrations were still within legal limit of a normal, healthy father-daughter relationship.
and whatever shortcomings, whatever wrong decisions you may have made later in your life have no longer affected mine. you've made your impact long before i left home.
Dad, i have always loved you and hated you and feared you and respected you the way any daughter would love and hate and fear and respect her own father. You took me in, and raised me the best way you know how. I may not have the best and happiest life on earth, but I turned out just fine. And I will always have you to thank for that.
Inspite of all the words that were said, and despite all the words left unsaid, between us... THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING, Dad.
my heart grieves. but i find comfort in knowing that you're finally healed in the arms of our Lord. Rest in peace, Dad...
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