Sunday, July 27, 2008

My father...

He is 76 years old. Old, you might say, but I've never thought of him as old until recently. All throughout my life, my father is just my father. Taller than me and always spoiling me and my mother.

I'm adopted. I came into their lives 23 years ago or so. I grew up an only child.

My father is imprinted in me. He's kind, yes, very very kind. They have never been harsh in raising me. In fact, they have been too gentle. He used to lie in this sofa we used to have and I would lie on him and he would tickle me like crazy and I would tickle him back. No one else would do such a thing to me.

He always brought me siopao home. I don't eat it anymore but that siopao and his kindness, gentlenesss and patience for a small little brat seemed unending, wrapped in that small siopao.

I'm all grown up now. And yet when it has come to be my turn to protect them, I can't. I feel inadequate, not only for Tatay, my only true father figure, but also for Nanay who has told me that pride in oneself is everything.

My mother... She hates being pitied but she has found herself in a situation so intolerable for her. She hates to give up like this, but what else can she do?

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