The Strength of my Father

At 64, my father can still walk up and down and across MMDA's infamous narrow and tall footbridges. This after nary a sleep when we attended the wake of my aunt last weekend. At 5 AM, I asked him if there was a McDonald in the area and he, like a boyscout, readily snapped in attention and told me there is one right across Munoz Market. I was oh-so-wanting brewed coffee. Only 3-in-one's were being served in the wake and I didn't want to burden anyone by asking for brewed.

Father invited three of his elder nieces and a grandchild to join us for early breakfast. My treat, of course.

When we reached Munoz, I was dumbfounded to see the footbridge which we had to cross to get to McDonalds. It was made of steel, narrow, tall and long. Some people in their mid-thirties would surely complain walking the stretch. And I have with me cousins in their 50s and my father who is now in his mid-60s. But before I could voice my doubts, they were all trooping up the overpass. All of them walking and telling stories of people they have not met in a while and stories of their own which the others missed due to time and distance. I eventually ended up walking ahead of them as I didn't want to eavesdrop gossips I'd rather not know. How I hate family gossips!

When we reached the other side of EDSA, I looked for a sign of fatigue in the elders' faces. None. Although my father was breathing a millisecond faster, I am definitely sure he has done better than many 30-year olds. I am impressed!

The other day, some news on a research study stated that children who were raised in less than perfect environment and who were reared by less OC parents are less likely to suffer ailments later in life. Well, my father was raised in the province where pigs and chicken play with kids and where mothers let their young eat what the young have dropped on the floor.

But more than that, father has seen the world - its gory and glory, its fame and notoriety. This man has the strength of the mightiest general. And when all the generals have fallen from their excesses, my father will have started to enjoy his due.

Random

I know how you struggle with the things most difficult. You take comfort from the fact that God understands, God forgives. Over and over.

Most times, I pray for something selfish. And God tells me, "why dare second-guess what i deem selfish." And i recoil. And I feel most unworthy, most undeserving. I sigh the big sigh. For all eternity, God knows what I can never start to comprehend in my very short while on earth. I am ambitious to try to know what I need only feel and believe.

Yesterday was the Immaculate Concepcion day. Her birthday. I went to the Padre Pio Sanctuary in Libis. She was there in all her glory, manifested in stone. I walked to where her image stood. I held her with both hands, one in each of her own. I prayed the prayer of the old, of women represented by my age. In that instant, I saw and felt for the nth time that there is something greater than the universe, than our sins, than worldly love.

And i cried the longest time, the freshest tears of the one blessed, of the one loved, of the one cared for, of the one being looked after. And I wondered again, why do we ever doubt, why do we ever feel afraid, why do we think we are alone.