A boy grieving for his father

I am a self confessed idealistic person. I conform to the norms of the society. I hold on to the ideals that have influenced me since the day I was born. I prefer to choose the right thing rather than to be practical. And so with my perception about my family.

I belong to an extended family. Living together with everybody is like a mixture, blended together, pounded, grounded and resulted to homogeneous one. Everyone is unique and yet coalesce with the aspirations in life. To each its own, working together to achieve the common goal. I grew up full of love by everybody. But of course there are things in myself that could not be contained by just love.

Living without a father is challenging. I have been through this obstacle since then. I would describe my fatherless life, as walking blindfolded inside the labyrinth, finding my way out to the end of the maze. Such strenuous undertaking did not hinder me to be defeated in this battle. Its my way of life and consider it part of my system already. But still there is this emptiness inside me, longing to see my father.

With the loneliness I am bearing, I found myself comforted with the memories I had with him if there was any. I can only recall he existed with the stories that my mother shared to me over again.  I wish that even in my dreams, I could talk to him, eagerly listening to his words, and just being with him. All of these are but a fantasy, trapped inside a bubble of desires which will vanish in an instant. Will I ever see him?

I wake up today wanting to seek  the presence of my dad. It has been one score and six years he has gone. But today is the day to pay visit him. I took the jeepney and heard the song playing that somewhat added to my sentiments. As I alighted the vehicle, nearing the place, a breeze of wind approached me and comforted my longing. I could feel my dad embracing me and said, “You are not alone my son”.

I am a few step away from him, walking under the canopy of the mahogany trees, listening to the bustling sound of the leaves being cradled by the gentle wind. Carrying a bunch of flowers, I laid it upon his grave.

I miss you Dad.

By Shaun