Fatherless

My father died when I was barely five years old. The cause of his death according to his death certificate was internal hemorrhage. I do not know what the medical term was that time. All I know was that he was stabbed one afternoon by one of his peers in a drinking session. And I saw right before my eyes the things that had happened that afternoon. That one afternoon that later on changed our lives.

I cried seeing my father helplessly crawl while blood profusely comes out from his body. We sought for help yet no one dared coming to us out of fear. He did not make it. Had there been a municipal hospital he could have been still alive. Had my mother just handed him our shotgun he could have protected himself. Had our neighbors and their drinking peers mediated at the onset of the dispute there could have been no death. Life could have been kinder on us.

It was hard to grow up fatherless especially in a family of six siblings devoid of economic stability. My mother, a former teacher, had no choice but to momentarily give my two older brothers and eldest sister to our well-off relatives so that they could continue studying. The three of us were left on her custody. Life was simple and hard in the province. Our daily survival is a struggle. After my father’s death, I could not remember any merry Christmas and happy New Year.

Eventually, we moved to Rizal and then permanently to Manila. We left the painful memories and rough life in Ilo-ilo. And as we moved from one place to another, life became smoother. There were big problems and difficulties yet we were able to overcome them. And as we picked up the broken pieces of ourselves, we were able to surpass the challenges brought up by a family without a foundation – without a father.

Looking back, it was a challenge for us to grow up fatherless. Our lives seem incomplete. Part of us is missing and we do not know where to find it. There is always emptiness, longing, and crave for a father. There’s always “what if’s” and “could have been’s”. And we always have no choice. For the three of us who were very young when my father died, we do not know what a father figure is. Being the youngest, I was not able to know and feel what fatherly love is all about.

Based on stories I heard from our mother and from other relatives, our father is very diligent, hard working and industrious. He is a family man in the real sense of the word. He is taciturn, resourceful, brave and protective. He has a green thumb.  He toiled our lands and cultivated our fishponds. He is a good fisherman, businessman and he has ventured in many trades in order to provide for the family.

During elementary days, I am shy during opening of classes when we are being asked to introduce ourselves and tell something about our families. I am conscious of what my classmates’ reactions would be. I do not want to be pitied. And every time I go on stage to accept my medals during recognition days and every time I emerged victorious in competitions, there is always a feeling that my father could have been very proud of me. He and my mother could have been the ones going on stage with me. Eventually I get used to it.

I was curious on how it is to be disciplined by a father, does it have any difference on how my mother does it. If still alive, will my father teach me how to drink, how to smoke, how to court? Will he be the one to assist me on the day that I will be circumcised? Will he teach me how to fist fight, drive a car or to shoot with a gun? They say fathers are good advisers. Is he also like that? I have so many questions, yet I am clueless on the answers.

I am imagining dining with the family where my father would talk about how was his day in work. And my brothers and sisters would talk about their studies. Later we will go to the sea and catch fish, he will teach me how to climb our mango and coconut trees, or we will fly kites or ride bikes. After all, it is free to imagine.

The greatest lesson this incompleteness had given us is independence, determination and maturity. We have learned so many things on our own. We do not expect so much and we live a simple life. We value the virtue of sharing and cooperation. We are protective, understanding and helpful to each other.

My five siblings have now individual careers and families. As the youngest, I am the only one still studying and unsettled. Our lives were not that successful but nonetheless we still continue to aim for a better life. A better life that is no longer for us but for the families we have.

To our mother, we owe you our lives - who we are today. You were not able to give us a well-off life, but as I remember those days when you cry when you cannot give what we need, I know deep in my heart that it is all what you want and dream for us. Without you our values would not be intact and we won’t become better persons. Your unconditional love and continued support for us is enough for us to realize that we are still lucky and grateful.

To our father, wherever you are right now, we love you. We know that you continuously guide us up there. Thank you for the gift of life and for being a good provider when you were still alive. Your life and love will always be remembered and treasured.

As I look back, I have realized so many things. Being fatherless is not a misfortune. It is a challenge to go on with life and fulfill the incompleteness and emptiness. It is a deficiency but it is neither an excuse nor a hindrance on becoming a complete and better person. It is not easy but if you hold on and treasure what is left you will eventually feel better. After all, life is what we make it.