They said I was one of his favorite sons, because he's always
talking about my achievements, but I was never close to him. I spent
most of my childhood days without him at my side. I was a little bit
uncomfortable whenever he was around. He was also a silent-type but
disciplinarian. I have experience a lot – physically and emotionally,
whenever I would commit mistakes or silly things that made him mad. I
never heard him saying a lot of words, as my mother always do. He’d
rather sit at the corner and calculate on papers or fix something with
his machinery tools.
When I was in High School, I never told him how I did in my
academics, the name of my teachers nor my classmates, nor my crushes and
love interests. I thought they would not interest him at all. That was
what I thought then. I never tried reaching to him because I feel
awkward to do so. Those were the days before I realized his sacrifices
and hard-works.
(Farming with SUKOB, my father's beloved Carabao)
(My Father with his brothers and friends during one of their typical drinking sessions in the province)
One afternoon, when my father became drunk after an occasional
drinking session with his fellow farmers after his usual rice field
routines, I heard him telling his friends how proud he was to have a son
like me. He almost narrated all my academic and extra-curricular
achievements. I heard all those stories directly from his mouth. From
that day, my perception about my father started to change.
(The usual weekend with my siblings back when I was a child)
No other experiences this world can offer even come close to watching
the sun set over the mountains while carrying harvested coconuts with my
father, smelling blooms as they drift up from the dike bottom
or saving a baby goat from sure death. These are things you can't
appreciate until you've experienced them. These are the things life on a
farm with my father is made of.
(Our Backyard Rice field)
One day, while watching TV show about farming. I urged to ask him
about the show, which I think he knew a lot. He eagerly and earnestly
shared what he knows. Each time I ask him questions, he never failed to
satisfy my curiosity. His eager countenance changes as he briefly
recounted his experience in farming. That afternoon talk made a vivid
impact in my memory.
(My father's Hand Tractor)
(My father)
As years passed, my father exerted silent effort to prove his being
father to us. He was both a quite ordinary and yet, remarkable man,
hard-working father who spent so much time in farming to provide us with
foods and other necessities. I commit mistakes or do bad thing
sometimes, but I never heard anything from him, not an angry look or a
harsh word. His understanding and acceptance mean a lot to me.
Before I graduated college, I finally realized how much my
father means to me. I was a Sunday service – a father’s day special.
That day I learned that he was suffering from hyperthermic attack for
several days. I was anxious of his condition because I knew how much he
worked hard in the farm every day. I was afraid because I knew I had
never done any significant thing for him. I never fully expressed my
appreciation and love for him. On that moment, I promised myself to give
my best effort in showing how much I owe him. I made a phone call for
him for the first time and asked about how he was doing and his
condition. From that day, I always bring something for my father;
material things or anything that would make him feel valuable. Last
Barangay election, despite my loaded work schedule I chose to go home to
support my father’s candidacy. Thank God he won.
Now, whenever I would come home, I would find myself holding
something for my father as he looks out at the bus terminal to pick me
up - things that cannot be replaced by any possessions or riches in this
world. More than the material things I have for him, the love and the
warm embrace are worthless expression of how much I love and appreciate
him. Perhaps, the wall between us is completely torn down, and I can
finally say to ORIE FADRI GAMOL, “I Love You, Pa”. You are my hero and my secure foundation. Happy Father's Day.
(ORIE FADRI GAMOL, my beloved father)
Tatay
