#sirboy

This time last year…

/ iamsupercarla / Leave a comment

We just celebrated Mothers’ Day and my mother’s birthday here in Las Pinas.  We put up the happy birthday banner with no intentions of taking it down.

The banner is still up.  This year, Marga took the liberty of adding “Happy Mothers’ Day” to it.

I was preparing for a Management Committee presentation about a big card project for a government institution.  I was very excited about my job, especially that I have my four boys with me.

My boys are down to three.

I was living in an apartment in Makati.

I moved back in last April.

I began to explore the limits and boundaries of my American Home steamer.

I can cook pretty much anything with it now, except pasta and rice.

My father was convincing me to come home but my job and schoolwork actually made it quite difficult for me to accept that commuting for over an hour can result in the same amount of rest as walking home for about 5 minutes.

I didn’t need convincing.

 

Everything was so different then.  So I am praying that the courage I need to reset and restart all the good and bad in my life doesn’t run out soon.  I still have a long way to go, but so far, I have been in great company, among the people who  have always loved me unconditionally, supporting me throughout the way.

Oh dear Lord.  Can I be any cheesier than this.  F\ck.

4

Seven days

/ iamsupercarla / Leave a comment

Hi Tatay,

Did you know that Roger Ebert died today?  It’s one of the saddest news I’ve heard this week.  Well, apart from everyone missing you.

I don’t think I ever talked to you about my fascination for movies and films.  I could go through lengths just explaining the difference, but for you they only mean one thing:  expensive seats.  You’ve always been the television guy.  You like to be in the moment; I on the other hand like to escape.

Anyway, he’s my favorite critic.  He died because his cancer returned.  Just when he announced his leave of presence, he really left the earth.  He was quite graceful in his last words too.

But I bet no one will be as graceful as you.

I was reading through this article when I saw this comment that just made me tear up:

Free at last

I know you’re free.  You feel no more pain.  Your soul has become bigger than your body that it was called by the Master sooner than we all wanted too.

But often I wonder at what point in my life will I ever be at peace with your passing.  I know you are; in your eyes, we’re all good, we’re all right, it’s okay for you to go.  In my heart, I know I have left you out of so much in my life, refused to share it all with you, or give you everything you deserved, that I will just be living with the pain of losing you too early in my life.

I wanted you to walk me down the aisle as I marry the man who loves me the most.  Well, second to you.  No one will ever love me like you do.  They can only try to.

I’m so happy Ted caught your moment when we first saw the majestic Palawan.  I swear you have never looked so breathless in awe.

And I am so thankful to have witnessed your moment of complete freedom and abandon, even just once in my life.

I miss you.  Every day.  I wish to be free from this pain too.  Help me, won’t you?

7 days

Eight days

/ iamsupercarla / Leave a comment

Hi Tatay.

I have created a list of everything that I need to accomplish this year.  Mostly, these are the things you bugged me to do already, and I’m sorry you’re not here to see me finish them.  You’ve always said that I am at my prime, and as much as I want to curl into a ball, bury my face in the scent of your clothes, I have so much time ahead of me.  I would not be your daughter if I wasted around and not seize the opportunities presented to me.

Honestly, I only have three.  I regret not having a better memory of the things you want me to do, but I believe these are the things that matter to you the most.

I promise to learn to swim.  That’s one of the things that has constantly bothered you.  You’re a seafood person and yet I, your only daughter, your eldest, have a hard time appreciating the sea.  It is my fear of not breathing that prevents me from getting into the water.  Never mind the fact that it can save my life, or the fact that I live in a tropical country.  My fears have taken over me — and yours hardly ever took over you.  So this year, I will learn how to swim.  I will work hard to learn it as fast as I can, so I can go back to Coron, the one place you found yourself most at peace with, and feel the water you were in surround me and my being.

I promise to learn how to drive a stick.  I know you’re not impressed with automatic transmission drivers.  For city driving, that should bode well enough, but given the number of times our family go out of town, I want to be one of those people they can count on during long drives.  They can always count on you, Tatay.  Whenever we go out, they don’t have to worry about anything because we had you.  Now that you’re gone, Ted, Daniel and I are scaling the wall to be your replacement.  But just so we’re clear, we will never do.  Nothing and no one can replace you.  Nothing and no one will ever attempt to.  It is with mere hope that we can continue your legacy… and for me, it starts with driving right.

Last and certainly not the least, I promise to continue studying.  You see, when you passed, I stopped.  I know that’s not really what you wanted, but I just couldn’t bear the thought of going through the motions without having you at the end of the day to tell you all about it.  If there’s something you continuously encouraged us to do, it is to constantly find ways to improve ourselves.  I promise I will finish my masters at the soonest possible time.  I will relearn photography and send you postcards from earth.  I will be on top of my class.  This was always your goal, to provide us with the best education a father can ever give to his children.  I will not fail.

I know these do not really matter as much as it should.  It would matter more if you were here.  But I know you’re guiding me. I know you will never leave me.  You are under my skin.  You will never go away.

You will always be my father and I, in turn, will do everything so that when people see me, they see you as clearly too.

I miss you.

8 days

Nine days

/ iamsupercarla / Leave a comment

Hi Tatay.

In nine days, you would have turned 60.  I was actually planning a big celebration for you, just us.  I made reservations at Sofitel Manila for an overnight stay and booked a table for 5 at Spiral for your birthday dinner.  You were very excited to become a senior citizen; its perks are quite nice.  But what really motivated me to do that was your enthusiasm for good food that I can’t seem to catch until we ate at Vikings, Mall of Asia to celebrate my 27th birthday.

The kitchen was your domain.  Some may argue that it should be the garage.  You are quite the handyman.  But your ingenuity and brilliance didn’t come with elbow grease and wrenches — they came with spices and butter, fresh seafood and choice cuts, greenest greens and sweetest fruits.

You, my father, had filled our bodies with so much nourishment.  I learned from Nanay that you always felt you’ve failed to provide for us.  You have never been more wrong.  No one has satiated our life more than you did.

I miss you each time I walk in the kitchen.  In any kitchen, for that matter.  Oftentimes, I hate myself for even attempting to cook the dishes you made; I know they will always be cheap replicates.  I regret not going with you to the market or not giving you enough money to get whatever you wanted in the market.  I should have watched you more closely, inhaled deeply, so as not to lose the aroma of what you’re making.  I should have followed you around, wrote down what you did in recipe cards (that you loathe so much), just so we’d have a semblance of your inspiration lying around.

My children shall miss so much as they will not have the privilege to taste your cooking.

As I count down to your 60th birthday, and I know it is too much to ask from someone who has passed, please make me better in the kitchen.  I know no other way to honor you but to serve the people we welcome in our home — family, relatives, visitors, boyfriends, girlfriends, friends, what have yous — with the food you so carefully and thoughtfully made, filled with so much passion and love, that the scent of the pan is enough for the soul to consume.

I miss you every day.  I hurt every day.  I love you every day.  And every day will never be enough.

9 days

Strength comes from the most unusual places

/ iamsupercarla / 2 Comments

I remember laying across chairs during my father’s wake.  Machiko Skye saw me from afar and trotted down to me, while holding a small pack of Skyflakes, one of her favorite snacks.

Fondly, she asked, “Tita Carla, may I sit here?”  For a two-year-old, her speech is close to impeccable.

“Sure, Machiko,” I replied.

So she sat by my head while I curled up tighter to fit in just two chairs.  She was eating silently, taking quick glances at me.

And then she started to stroke the top of my head, slowly and gently, and started singing:

Don’t you worry
Don’t you worry, child
See, heaven’s got a plan for you

She said, “I don’t know the other words, Tita.”

I don’t think I needed to hear more.

Tomorrow, it will be two months.  I will never get used to this.