A CHILD'S STORY

I THINK I have been so passionate with this fatherhood thing (can't blame me, it's normal) that I tasked myself to write a longer essay about it. But what I got instead is a brief story for children. So here it is...

I LOVE SUNDAY!

I LOVE SUNDAY very much. Daddy is around the house. He cooks for our breakfast, especially my favorite, egg omelet with fried bacon. He plays computer games with me. He horses around with Mimi, my younger sister. He fixes Kuya Boyet’s bike. He does home chores while Mom goes to market. Sometimes Dad takes us out for lunch to a nearby fastfood. Or he leads us to a children’s park to play. Or he brings us to cinema for the latest kiddie flick. Mom is so glad seeing us happy with Dad.

That is why I learn to hate those days when Dad stays long in the office. He stays there until late at night. He no longer reads me bedtime stories as before. If I have a test the next day, he does not even go home early for my review. Dad will just ask Mom to do it for him. When I happen to be awake when he goes home, he will just kiss me good night and tell me to go back to bed at once.

“Dad is doing overtime work. He will be tired when he goes home,” Mom explains. I want to complain but I don’t know how to say it. Kuya Boyet does not mind, because he is old enough. Mimi doesn’t seem to care either.

But when Sunday comes, I forget everything. Then I love Dad again. 


ONE SUNDAY, Dad did not bring us out as before. We didn’t even attend the mass. We just played around the house. But he got tired easily. He took a long nap in the afternoon. In the evening, he told us the usual bedtime stories. Before he kissed me good night, he hugged me tightly, patted my back and ruffled my hair. And I loved him for doing that.

Monday, the next morning, Dad did not go to work. He was the one who helped me dress up for school. He even fetched me from school on time. Then we played computer games together.

The next day, Dad did not go to work again. So with the next day and the next day. The next Sunday was just another day. He was at the house, cooking for our breakfast, doing home chores and playing games with us. But we did not go out as before. Except in the afternoon where we attended the mass. For the first time I saw Dad praying so deeply in the pew. 

Dad was unusually silent after his time with us. He had long and hush-hush discussion with Mom. Mom was also affected with this Dad's strange mood.

Is he sick? Why does he easily get tired? I asked Mom about it. With a deep sigh, Mom looked at me straight in the eye. Then she hugged me tightly.

“Your Dad has lost his job. The company is losing money, so his boss must let your Dad and other workers go.” I couldn’t understand what does that mean. But I knew Dad was badly affected.

I cannot be happy when Dad is not happy. So I prayed like the way Dad did in the church. It was a deep and long prayer. I asked God to tell my Dad’s boss that he will ask Dad to return to work soon.

After a week, Dad went out the house, like he used to when he had a job. He was dressed at his best, bringing with him only a thin folder when he went out. He did it almost everyday. And on a Sunday, Dad was back to his usual self. But even so, I was so glad being with him again over the weekend. But now, I no longer hated Mondays and the long weekdays as before. Sunday with Dad was enough for me.

One afternoon, Dad went home shouting with joy. He kissed and hugged me tightly. He danced with Mimi. He had a high five with Kuya Boyet. And he embraced Mom so tightly until I saw Mom laughing with tears in her eyes.

“Dad has got a new job!” Mom announced.

I ALWAYS love Sunday. And I no longer mind if I could not see Dad before I sleep on weekdays. Because on a Sunday, it will be the day for me with Dad and Mom, and also for Kuya Boyet and Mimi. And every holiday means a looong Sunday for all of us!

A TAG PRICE FOR MY TIME?

I HAVE a busy schedule every day. I work from four to six hours in a publishing house, work with my computer for long hours to write articles for a local magazine, read textbooks and photocopied cases for my law studies, and manage with my wife a household full of three inquisitive and active kids.

I am rather a part-timer with each of my present roles. (But aren’t we all in this age of multi-tasking?) And with my current situation, I lost my precious time for sleep and extra time for pleasure (reading good books, watching blockbuster movies in DVDs, having beer sessions with my relatives or peers). But the good thing is, I don’t have time to be bored. Multi-tasking has always been a perfect antidote to boredom or a justification to beat the mad rush in this modern world. But for a price, and a heavy one indeed on the family.

I admit I have less time for my kids. I may be present for them every day, but only a physical presence looming before them so that they have to behave in my presence. As if to say, if I am around, they must study their lessons very well, they must not make unnecessary noise while I work at home, they must listen to their Mom, and do this and that, or else I’ll impose a sanction on them, or a heavy dose of scolding when necessary.

I had promised them that Sunday would be for fun and relaxation, for mass, and a good time to cook and serve them their favorite dishes. But for the past three years (or since I resigned from a regular job to pursue my law studies, just a year after my wife also left work to look after the kids) I had rarely fulfilled these promises, if not at all, because even when I didn’t have take-home jobs for the weekend, I did extensive research in the Net for my articles and my case readings, or had to attend make-up classes in the college. I would just be contented with the thought that those goodnight kisses before they sleep on nights when I come home early after a suspended or shortened class, or goodbye kisses when they go to school in the morning, and when I brought them pasalubong (donut and pizza are all-time favorites) would make them think that all's well with Dad after all. But am I really sure that they are not complaining with this setup?      

One time I come across this story from the Net, an appropriately symbolic story for my situation. It is about a little boy who waited for his dad until he came back from work. His dad was surprised to see him still awake at 10 in the evening and asked him why he had not slept. The boy told his dad that he had an important question for him.

His dad told him that he was so tired and had to answer his “important” question in the morning. The boy told his dad that he needed a quick answer to his question, which disturbed him and prevented him from sleeping. Finally, at his son's insistence, the father gave in. “How much do you earn per hour, Dad?” asked the little boy.

“Is that your important question? I earn 20 dollars per hour, son,” answered the father, shocked by the question. His son pulled a little bag from under his pillow and said, with a big smile all over his face, “Can you loan me two dollars, Dad?”

The father was upset but he gave the boy two dollars. “But we need to discuss this tomorrow,” he said. Nevertheless, the boy took the two dollars and pulled more money from his bag, mostly quarters and nickels, and started counting. Then he gave the money to his father while saying, “Here is 20 dollars, Dad. Can you please give me an hour of your time?”

It is a very simple story, but it delivers a very important message about the importance of spending time with your family, especially with the younger ones. It shows how children cherish every precious time they can have with their dad. I felt ashamed of myself when I realized that I have become a mechanical wage-earner providing only the material needs of my family. And sometimes, when my resolve to earn for the family was waylaid by some domestic problems, or conflicts in the office, I burst out like a dormant volcano and all the more I would shut myself out from the peering eyes of my kids. I had become oblivious of the passing days that I must have spent with them. And I had been so sensitive with my feelings and less with their feelings.

It happened not only once that I dismissed my children when they approached me in separate occasions and asked questions while I was busy with my work. With my rigid rules, my kids would rarely come to me again to ask about things, unless they have problems with their assignments, but most of the time I told them to go to their Mom for that bit of information. Or I would just give them a short answer bereft with explanations.

Thanks for the story, and subsequent day-long ruminations of my life as a father, I got a new resolve to change my ways and spend more time with my kids. I thought I have missed the fun part of being a father, like playing with them, hugging, listening, sharing activities and just goofing around.

I recalled the times when I would always answer the questions of my kids during the separate times they were toddlers. And how I’d loved seeing them flashing their toothless grins when I replied to their queries, from the highly philosophical (why there is God or where God is) to the absurd (what made the housefly pregnant or how ants lay eggs). But those were the days before I was swamped with work.

That’s why when my ten-year-old asked me why prices go up these days, I answered him as scholarly as a dedicated teacher can do to his inquisitive pupil. And only last week, he saw me browsing the Encarta dictionary for the meaning of a word. He asked: “Dad, why are you using the dictionary? I thought you have known all those words in there.” I smiled, not for his outright mistake, but for his innocence and his terrible impression of me as a genius.

Time will come my kids will no longer ask questions as frequent as they do now. They may keep their questions to themselves or may ask somebody else. Or they may have learned so much that they no longer see the need of asking me. From a know-it-all Dad, I would retrogress to a “doesn’t really know quite everything” Dad, then to a “doesn’t know everything” Dad. So while I am on that first stage, I must get the most of it by replying to all their questions and be the know-it-all Dad for them, even for a time.

I hope with proper time management and a firm resolve, I can show them more affection, communicate affirmation, and give them attention. And while nurturing them, I must enjoy being a father and let my children enjoy belonging to me.

NOT NOW, BUT SOME OTHER TIME

"I'm not afraid of death. I just don't want to be there when it happens" - Woody Allen

IT almost happened to me. And I wouldn’t have lived to tell this one.

It was safe to cross the street just after I alighted from an FX taxi, so I thought. I dashed forward to cross the three-lane street towards the center island. Suddenly, a speeding gray SUV came towards my blind side, almost sideswiping me that instant. As if a bullet had just zinged past through me!

What if it happened? I shuddered at the thought of seeing myself lying lifeless on the busy street. Who would look after my mangled body? Who would tell my family about it? Would bystanders bother to look at my mobile phone’s phone book and call my wife or any of my friends? My ID wasn’t even in my wallet! That made my whole body cold as soon as I reached the island.

Then it came to my mind what happened to one of the graphic artists in the publishing house where I work. Early this year he was ran over by a truck near his place in Malabon. I pitied the guy. He was only in mid-30s, had a good career and great plans for his life. He died after a few days in a hospital due to serious internal injuries. And I couldn’t imagine myself having to suffer the same fate as his.

Death is like a thief in the night, and everyone must be aware of it, be alert and ready for the inevitable. But at that instant, I don’t think I am ready to die. And with that I am afraid. Honestly! Maybe when I was younger, when I had this clumsy belief that I was treading on a hopeless and unmanaged life. I had nothing to lose then and I was not actually afraid to die. But things are different now. I have my own family who looks up to me for support.

No, I don’t believe that death is a big unknown, a dismal abyss. It is rather a destination, an eventuality. My religion had given me noble thoughts about it, that beyond this life, there is a perfect place for each one of us as God had promised. But why I am afraid of death now? Yes, indeed, but I have my reasons:

1. Like most family men, I am more concerned with leaving those I love behind, than any painful death I could imagine for myself. I know I can’t be with them forever, but it’s too early at this stage to leave them!
2. And like most people who have high hopes in life, I have plans or dreams that I wish to accomplish before I expire.
3. I couldn’t imagine my three young children dealing with such harsh reality as death in the family. They say children have a degree of “magical thinking,” or they have this capacity to believe that a person who has died will come back and is not really dead. But missing their father so much before bedtime may erase that magic.
4. I don’t want to leave my wife and my kids grieving and financially insecure. I am afraid that with my little earnings, none will remain after paying for my funeral and settling all my debts. I would not like to fail them in death. Kaya huwag muna.

Now, do I have good reasons to hang on to dear life? Of course, I have good reasons to be extra careful in crossing that busy street again.