They’ve always said that you always hurt the ones you love most. As much as I wanna cry foul over that statement, I know I did just that to him 7 years ago.
Last time we saw each other, I said a lot of things I really didn’t mean. I was sick with chicken pox, young and stupid. I also just had a grueling NatSci 1 (a Physics and Chem combo GE subject for everyone who’s not from UP) midterms that I somehow managed to do great in despite my sickness so that might have contributed to that, too.
“You never accepted me as your dad.”
“You know what’s funny? The year I finally told myself that I want you two to get married, you do this to us. So thanks a lot for ruining our lives!”
I was tired of hearing my Mom cry herself to sleep. I was tired of seeing my brother waste a year away just because of what happened. I was tired of trying to be strong for everyone when I was also hurting.
The only family I knew is falling apart in front of my eyes and I cannot do anything to prevent it.
I picked up the phone, dialed AFPMC’s number and tried my luck into weaseling my way through the operators to talk to my ex-stepdad over the lunch break today.
It’s been 7 years. I actually never thought I’d be able to hear his voice again. I don’t know why but the minute he said hello, the tears started streaming down my face.
It was so good to hear his voice again.
We did the usual small talk. I asked him how he is and he told me that his diabetes has taken a turn for the worse over the past few years. He now has to undergo dialysis three times a week. I winced when he said that. He told me about seeing Inka and Topher last year. Inka’s going to college next year and Topher’s doing great even if the kid is kinda sickly. He also told me the last time he saw me was on TV. I marveled at the fact that that seemed like ages ago. My voice apparently changed, too. I laughed a little and said that 7 years is a really long time.
He also answered the question that was plaguing me all these months. It was really him whom I saw in Megamall on a wheelchair some months back. He told me he saw my hair and knew instantly that that was me even though he didn’t get to see my face. I told him I regretted not stopping to say hi. I wanted to tell him that the reason why I stopped is that I couldn’t bear seeing him that way. You never really want to see your parents (biological or not) that way. Ever. I was not ready to accept the fact the he was that sick. I wanted to tell him all these so badly but I didn’t. I guess I wanted to tell him that in person.
I wanted to talk more but he’s scheduled for a dialysis and had to go. I left my number and told him I wanted to meet him for dinner and I am bringing Oyie, too. He told me that he’s free by Thursday next week.
If he doesn’t text me, I’ll call him next week.
Contacting my real dad.