A friend asked me, what do I do when I miss you. I said, i tell you, “Dad, I miss you.” and that’s just about how I feel at present. I miss you, Dad! I have not gone to your garden in a while, but even so, I’d be missing you just the same.
I just had my chem exam last Saturday, and to whom do I better talk about such things if not with you. For some reason, that geekiness in us brought a lot of bonding moments between us. I remember when you were still at the hospital, and we were both answering my physics exam, we were trying to see where I went wrong. You’ve forgotten most of the concepts, but you knew well the right questions to ask. golly, you were always that smart. You told me that for the most part, I know what I’m doing, but that my carelessness leads me to committing a lot of mistakes. I don’t think I’d ever forget that, but I hope it gets into my consciousness to really shake that carelessness off me.
And then, what else? I had a tutorial session a while ago. Goodness, Dad! It was utterly exhausting! There were only three of us to give the review to 3 sections. We were all not used to teaching both girls and boys at the same time, and it was simply a riot. Ahh… patience is indeed a virtue.
Lastly, I was at your workplace last Friday. We had a benefit concert held there for DMMC, the foundation that gives music therapy for children with autism and other disabilities. It went great! I really thought at start that it was going to be a flop project. I’d like to think your presence somehow urged others to support the event. When I had to sell raffle tickets for a project, you were most willing to buy all the tickets from me. When I had to handle a Christmas Party for the kids, you were most willing to shoulder our expenses. You were always that supportive to my projects. And well, your support has never stopped, but was even strengthened because you’re near Him.
Finding myself still doing this, I feel like your old little girl — how I try to make you proud, and how it makes me happy everytime I’m able to make you happy. I hope to see you smile at me, and see in your eyes that you’re proud of me. And i hope to see it someday… someday.
Everyday is a new beginning, Dad. Sometimes it feels like a deja vu, because sometimes it’s as if I’m faced with the same struggles every time, but then, realizations kick in, resolutions surface and I find myself pushing more and more to effect the change that’s always needed — always aiming to go beyond (mostly beyond my comforts and beyond my selfishness).
How about you, Dad? How’s it been there?