YOUNG VOICE
His cup of coffee
Faint footsteps can be heard across the hospital lobby, no one knows for sure how many times he has walked back and forth anxiously waiting. He tried imagining how it would feel to have a bald and toothless creature locked up in his arms. Sweat dampened his trembling hands as he could only peep by a small window. Inside was his wife, agonizing in labor. The door creaked slowly and stood ajar for some seconds, the smell of antiseptic made him even more worried than he already is. The nurse came out, greeted him with a smile and shared the news that he has been waiting for all day. He sighed in relief and put himself together, because after that day, because after that very moment, things will never be the same. And yes, he became a father.
A few weeks ago, during my enrollment period, the same anxious man whom I have come to know as my father, proved that he was still doing his job after 17 years. I gravely miscalculated my tuition fees for this semester, and ran out of cash. Thinking only of myself, I texted him in the middle of lunch time politely forcing him to kindly bring me extra money before one in the afternoon. The next thing I know, my coffee-smelling father was enumerating every fault I had committed that day, not to mention the other mistakes I have carelessly done some weeks ago. I wanted to cry but I knew it would be selfish, dumb-headed and insensitive.
My father taught me valuable lessons that day. One is resilience. He told me that I should have been more resilient with my feelings, not to jump into action without much thought of its effect on other people. I never realized he was still looking where to find the extra cash I was asking for. I should have opted to continue my enrolment the next day or just paid the down payment, but since I was being too carried away, I ruined everybody's seemingly perfect day. Second, responsibility. I should have double checked my fees before I started with the enrollment. I thought I was being responsible for texting him right after I ran out of money, but it wasn't how responsibility should be. Responsibility takes meaning when everything else is difficult and confusing, but you still know the right thing to do. Parents aim for their children's independence, and so did my father. He wants me to stand on my own and figure things out for myself, the kind of skill that would let me survive in the real world later on. Yes, a few weeks ago I was scolded in front of a crowded university. I swore I felt those judging eyes melting me gradually, but somehow I felt different deep inside. Not everyone in my university has a father who will drive all the way from his mountain-pile of work and spend some half an hour lecturing me until I got the baseline. My father has his imperfections, I'm sure every father has. He could be quite rough and too strict sometimes, or occasionally he could be annoying and childish. But the love and concern that each parent has is certainly a flawless one. Each father would want their child to grow up much better than he did. Besides, your father has once been a son of his own dad, and thus he knows very well how you feel.
I guess being a father is more than drinking coffee early in the morning while reading the newspaper. I guess being a father is waking up in the middle of a night to sing lullabies while cradling a crying baby to sleep. Being a father is giving up a highly awaited basketball game championship for junior's favorite daytime cartoons. Being a father is wearing the same clothes for several years while your teenage daughter gets to have a new set of dresses every week.
I wished everything else was quieter seventeen years ago in that same hospital. I would have heard his faint footsteps.
I'm sorry Tatay. Happy Father's Day!
(For comments and reactions please send an SMS to 09186363090 or email at reylangarcia@gmail.com. View my blog at http://theyoungvoice.blogspot.com)