My son, my Teacher

Hey Andre,

Prior to you being born into this world, I applied for a job I wasn’t ready for. It was sometime March of that year and the position was fatherhood. With zero experience, the only credentials that I offered were: the live-in 'seminars' with my own father - the audio of which came through one ear and out the other; and, special skills - Integral Calculus and dancing (I lied hoping it would help).

The processing took 9 whole months. It was equally exciting and daunting at the same measure not knowing what to do next after your arrival. 

Who will tell me if? 

What goes with which? 

Do I smell it to be sure? Where?

When the call came, telling me my fatherhood has been approved, I saw you literally come out of your mother’s tummy. Then, just then, "Bloody heck! You’re so bloody!" I couldn’t help telling myself while holding the camera.

But it all became clear to me. That day, I knew: nobody else will teach me how to be a father but you.

You taught me that a baby smile is a priceless relief from a hard day’s work.

You taught me that a smirk could either mean a poop or a fart and that I need to summon all my senses for the answer. 

You taught me a cry is call for a cuddle or comfort or food.

I learned to make better of good things like coffee and Excel.

And what mattered most, you taught me to be the best that I can be.

And you know what? I’d like to think that I was an excellent student. Because I became a father the second time around, nearly two years after. I merited a B+ to say the least.

I am still learning, though. But at 61, I don’t think a third-time fatherhood is a prospect. Being a dad -it just doesn’t end, does it? You still have to teach me how to pull that perfect shot without accidentally burning my arm. And how does that down-swing, follow thru work again?

Teach me, master Andre. I’d like to learn more from you. 

Happy 25th birthday, buddy! You know I love you.

Previous post: "Celebramus Leonila"

Celebramus Leonila

Leonila. Her name suggests "for others." She lived not for herself, but for those around her. Us.

She is my mother.

She's the one I raise this cup to -the one who gave me life here on earth. She would have turned 94 today. In eternity order, she’s NOW age old. My faith tells me she's still "mothering" us with her loving prayers and intercessions before God, face-to-face. She was a gentle soul whose words were always kind and pure. Never loud. Never excessive. She lived the simplest of life. She wore no jewelry around her neck or long bling-blings dangling her ears. Her gadgets were electronic gas stove clicker and transistor radio. Her idea of spa was cooking asado and raking leaves in our yard. She sacrificed much, loved much. 

I was probably 6. Maybe 7. I was sick, running a fever or something that I don’t remember much details about. But there were things that I still remember: my dear Inang and I on a sleeping mat in the living room of our old house that turns into a bedroom at night. Bedroom isn’t quite the word for it because we had no beds, only banig -a handwoven mat made of buri to sleep on inside a mosquito net. She asked me how I was feeling. I told her that I was feeling like heaps of dirt being poured down on me. Like I was being buried. I don't remember how she reacted but I probably gave her a shock. I shocked her more as I grew mustache.

It shocked her when told that my board exams test papers were stolen to favor another.

It shocked her one day, when in 1983, I told her I was going abroad for work.

It shocked her to learn that the poultry business I put up was buried in volcanic ash.

I must have made life difficult for you, Inang. We wanted college but you and Tatang couldn’t afford it. So you had to move heaven, earth and everything in between to make ends collide. You didn't mind the pain but pain you endured much. I didn't know it then -perhaps this was the way you wanted it. Ohh.😢

Now I imagine you chatting no longer with just a few friends and neighbors but with legions of saints and blowing not just candles but stars and galaxies. A billion-piece orchestra playing in joyful celebration of you. 

Dear Inang, before angels and heavenly beings, raise your glorious cup to God with your perfect smile and tell Him, "This one’s for my son and for all those he loves. I love him dearly." I know if you did, God’s favor is on me. And my heart will keep beating hope.

Have the happiest heavenly blast, 'Nang. You are always here -point to my temple, and here -point to my sternum. 

I remember. I smile. I love. 

You, because. 

Cheers!

Previous post: "Why Should I write About This Man?"

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Character Development

Dear Nikkei,

Character Development -these words that are built-in into your vocabulary I hear you use in every other sentence that comes out of your mouth. Psych education kicking in, I guess. 

-in K-Dramas: it’s what you watch out for in characters played by the actors;

-in your family: you monitor our progress like lab rats -me, especially. 

Probably oblivious to you, I’ve also been monitoring you and keeping mental tab of your character development. Don’t worry, I’ll leave out your daily frustrations and rants as you might be cited for contempt. 

You started like this:

Your were sweet, bubbly, delightful, lovable. 

Then metamorphosed into this:

You grew into being sweeter, bubblier, more delightful, more lovable. 

Then blossomed into this:

Your matured even more- even sweeter, even bubblier, even more delightful, even more lovable. 

What more can I say? You are my daughter. There’s no way on earth there will come a time when these eyes of mine will not see the beauty that permanently resides in you. Never mind if you roll your eyes pretending not to laugh at my jokes or make fun of how I pronounce words with 'rl' and 'sh' like girlfriend  and mushroom, or criticize my work-outs.

You are beautiful. In the day and in the night. In harmony and in conflict. Within and without. Lazada or Amazon. You are beautiful. Let no one deceive you and make you doubt. You can say that I am territorial about my bloodline but the absolute is hard to challenge.

Happy birthday, Nina Kristin! I want to say more but I’ve maxed out all the legal praiseworthy words allowed by the law for a birthday greeting. Know that there's not a single day in the past and will never be in the future that I won't mention your name to God in thanksgiving. We love you dearly.

Cheers! 

난 너를 정말 사랑해,

슈퍼 아빠

Next post: "Why Should I Write About This Man?"

Previous post: "Inspirations. Happy Anniversary XXVI Edition"

Inspirations: Happy Anniversary XXVI Edition

Rissa dear,

We do not have a theme song as a couple, or do we? I might have forgotten -just one of the things 26 years of blissful marriage can do to you. But to me, it doesn’t make any sense having one because our life is a song. When inside an elevator with piped-in music, sipping our coffee or in a hotel lobby listening to the piano man or driving with the radio on, we hear our songs played. You and I, we have that x2 factor that songwriters need to broaden their sphere of imagination and inspiration to write words we hear in songs such as:

Don Mclean

And I love you so

The people ask me how

How I've lived till now

I tell them "I don't know"

And you love me too

Your thoughts are just for me

You set my spirit free

I'm happy that you do

James Taylor

I close my eyes at night

Wondering where would I be without you in my life

Everything I did was just a bore

Everywhere I went it seems I'd been there before

But you brighten up for me all of my days

With a love so sweet in so many ways

How sweet it is to be loved by you, it's just like sugar sometimes

Jason Mraz

And through timeless words in priceless pictures

We'll fly like birds not of this earth

And tides they turn and hearts disfigure

But that's no concern when we're wounded together

And we tore our dresses and stained our shirts

But it's nice today, oh the wait was so worth it

Kenny Loggins

For the first time I am looking in your eyes

For the first time I'm seein' who you are

I can't believe how much I see

When you're lookin' back at me

Now I understand what love is, love is

For the first time

Toni Wine and Carole Bayer Sager

When I'm feeling blue, all I have to do

Is take a look at you, then I'm not so blue

When you're close to me, I can feel your heart beat

I can hear you breathing near my ear

Wouldn't you agree, baby you and me got a groovy kind of love

Steven Curtis Chapman

I will be true to the promise I have made

To you and to the One who gave you to me

I I will be here

And just as sure as seasons are made for change

Our lifetime's are made for years

So, I I will be here we'll be together

I will be here

Ed Sheeran (he really read my mind when he wrote "Perfect")

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, we're listenin' to our favorite song

I have faith in what I see

Now I know I have met an angel in person

And she looks perfect

No, I don't deserve this

You look perfect tonight

What will these guys write without us? Sad, sad songs. 

If we got a dime for every inspiration that these guys took from us, we’d be rich because everyday is just full of it -unli source of inspiration. But listening to their songs in my playlist is good enough royalty for me.

Happy anniversary, dear!

Here’s to more years of inspirations, more additions to my playlist. Yep, those are beer bottles!

We thank God for this 26th edition of this family. There's more to come.

I love you. You know the drill. 

Previous post: "Life's a Choice. Multiple Choice."

I taught you to be

When I'm feeling blue
All I have to do
Is take a look at you
Then I'm not so blue
When you're close to me
I can feel your heart beat
I can hear you breathing
In my ear
Wouldn't you agree?
Baby, you and me
We've got a groovy kind of love

Dear Andre,

I used to sing my favorite song by Phil Collins to you and Nikkei when you were babies especially when holding you in my arms to put you to sleep. Now that you're 19 and with my back bone more brittle, I wouldn't even entertain the thought.

Many things have happened, though, following those lullaby years:

I taught you Math

      but did we ever find x?

I taught you how to swim

      no depth can overcome you now
I taught you how to play the guitar
      now you play like a maestro
Did I teach you how to sing and dance?
      No. But aren't you glad I didn't?

I taught you badminton, basketball and tennis

      you showed you're an animal in sports 

I taught you how to drive

      you're better than many I know

I taught you my skills in photography

      now it's: "Dre, how's this?"

I taught you things not because I want you to be like me

I taught you skills because it's a father's job to teach a son

You may grow up to be like me but that's not my intention

I do not want you to be like me because that's just a mediocrity

I want you to be like Jesus because that's the best you can ever be

There are many things that I may have failed to teach you
      Like doing the dishes properly and fixing things at home
      Or putting away shoes, socks and shirts and nose-blown tissues
There's more time to learn those skills
      But your destiny for success aren't grounded on them
   
Happy 19th, my son.
Enjoy the last year of your teen ride.
There's a lot more to learn.

-Daddad