PRESENT
June 2001
I never thought I
would get a present from her. Never did I receive a gift from her
the day she married her boyfriend of 7 months, and I never expected
a gift, not even on my birthday, and certainly not on Father's Day.
Not this year, nor the year before that, or even five years ago.
Five years ago…. It's been five years since we
last talked, five years since I last heard my daughter's voice pleading
to me to attend her wedding, begging me to support her and be there
for her on the most important day of her life.
But I just couldn't. I didn't like the thought
of somebody taking her away from me, much less by a guy she barely
knew. I couldn't even look at them together, because the fear that
she will be gone too soon crept into my being, and that was something
I can't bear.
I did not attend her wedding. Everybody else --
her mom, her friends and other relatives -- were present when she
changed her name, when she made her vows to the man whom I felt stabbed
me to death by taking away my only baby girl. The whole town was there.
Not me. I stayed the whole day at home watching basketball, as if
nothing extraordinary was happening in my life. Pretending to be strong,
pretending that I was not affected, even if my chest felt like bursting
because of all the pain and loneliness I was feeling.
I did a lot of pretending. After the wedding, I tried to pretend that
she did not exist. I tried to show the world that I did not care anymore.
I tried to live thinking I never had a daughter… but I failed.
Everyday I thought of her. Everyday I thought about what she was eating
for breakfast until the time she went home. Everyday I worried about
her, if her husband was taking care of her, if he pampered her the
way I did when she was my little girl. I loved her so much…my baby
girl, my unica hija. I wanted to let her know that despite what happened,
that even if I felt betrayed when she pushed through with her wedding
without my blessing, I still loved her like anything. But of course
I couldn't tell her that.
It was my pride that ruled over everything. It was my pride that kept
me from calling her up from Manila, while she was thousands of miles
away, in the other side of the world. My pride kept me from even asking
my wife about her. My beloved wife, who was always in touch with her
in San Francisco, never mentioned her name to me, knowing that I pretended
she did not exist.
And suddenly, this gift. I was reading the papers on the breakfast table on that Father's Day
morning, when this boy from a local courier handed me a package. I froze when I read who it
was from… and when I got in the house, my wife sat down beside me, before I went to see
what's inside. But I was hesitant.
"Should I open it?" I asked.
"Why not?" she replied.
"It's from her…"
"So?"
It was a small leather picture frame. My heart beat wildly as I read the
gift card inside the box that held it.
"This should hold our picture when I visit next month."
I just stared at it. I couldn't bring myself to look at my wife, who was
already crying. I knew that I will also break down, because even if she did not say words like
"I love you, Daddy," or even "I'm sorry", it was more than enough to make me feel that we are
starting to heal. I know in my heart that I have forgiven her a long time ago, but I just
couldn't admit that because of the pride I had in my heart.
One present was all it took to begin mending the broken bond, although I
know it was not the gift that did the healing, it was the effort she had to take to do that.
Now that she's tried reaching out to me, it's my turn to ask for her forgiveness. My turn to
swallow my pride. My turn to acknowledge that I am HER
father, and that I do love her so much. With that gift, I knew it
was a start - I'll have my daughter back.
Back to top
Comments or suggestions
|
