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They say how a woman is with her father is how she will be with her husband.
If this were indeed the case, I don't know if the one who meets me at the altar would consider himself lucky or think he just ran out of luck.
I am a Daddy's girl. I tell him a lot of things—my deepest thoughts, my craziest ideas, my doubts, my hurt—but of course, not everything. If you asked my Dad who I am, I am pretty sure he could paint you an accurate picture of me.
It is a mutual admiration society, this thing that I have going with my Dad. He pretends to trash me sometimes in front of family and friends, and I return the courtesy (just this afternoon I called him Don Pepot in front of my uncle and cousin). But it has always been us who looked out for one another in the family.
I remember when he was diagnosed with colon cancer four years ago. My world shattered. I cried every night. I was at the hospital every day to visit him, spending hours on end at his bedside wanting to be there in case that day would be his last on Earth.
It hurt to see him weak and in such pain and it hurt even more to have such faith in God that my prayer was that His will be done. I did not petition for an extension of my father's life, I prayed that God decide my father's fate according to His will.
My dad was paper-thin after surgery. But I took his survival after that gruesome procedure as a sign that he was given a second lease on life. Us three women (my mom, my sister, myself) in my family divided the tasks involved in getting him to recuperate among ourselves. I was given the duty of cooking my father's food. And I did so with much love. I'd take great care to choose only those ingredients that would help his condition.
Today, he may not have recovered his strength completely but he is healthy and productive. He resumed his responsibilities in the small family business. He is a mad, mad grandpa who dotes on his two grandchildren.
His bout with cancer was just a break from the work of caring for me while my mental illness ran its course. In his healthy days, whenever I was in hospital, he would be the one talking to my doctors or finding me another one if my current psychiatrist failed to help me. He brings me clothes and food and other needs. He visits me. In those years of pain his love was a lighthouse through the storm. Even in the times when I wasn't in my right mind, there would be lucid moments when his love would get through to me.
We are both in recovery at this point in our lives and I would like to think that the filial love between us helped pull us through the tough times.
I still get in arguments with my dad at times and sometimes he frustrates me when he chooses not to see my side of the situation. But I understand this is all part of human relationships. That there is no perfect bond, however much the people involved love each other. And this, I learned from my dad more than anyone: There is no perfect man, but it's our love for them that makes what we have with them perfect.
The views expressed are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of HerWord or BusinessWorld.
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I am also a daddy's girl and lost him to lung cancer way back 1987. Though my kids never got the chance to know their grandfather , I make it a point to tell them stories about my childhood. It is the best way for them to know how lucky they might have been , if he was still alive, and that he will aways stay in our hearts, where ever we go.
Posted by sarah mallari bucu on Wednesday, 03.21.12 @ 16:26pm
What a touching essay. What the author said is so true. You only get to appreciate your father when you grow up. It's like getting to know them all over again, and then you begin to understand them.
Posted by Jay on Tuesday, 06.21.11 @ 15:27pm
Miss ko rin Papa ko. Few weeks ago, I scanned wedding pictures ng papa and mama ko and old pics namin and talagang na-miss ko papa ko. Last Sunday, my family went to the cemetery to visit him. Comforting kapag nakakapunta kami dun.
Posted by Ria on Thursday, 06.16.11 @ 11:07am
Lovely father-daughter relationship..I miss my dad after reading this article.
Posted by Monaliza S. Barrameda on Wednesday, 06.15.11 @ 11:21am