A Year in a Land Far, Far Away…

It’s been a year. A year since I left my boy, my partner, and my friends. A year since I left the land I call home. Today, I feel no reason to rejoice nor feel sad…I just feel the urge to reflect on the year that has been.

I miss everything back home, no doubt about it. I miss the good and the bad things…except the storms and the floods maybe. For though I made new friends and slowly fitted in my new environment, I will always look at myself as a stranger in a strange land. I will never enjoy the same rights, privileges, and outlook in life as those who were born and raised here. I will always be different in most things…physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Recent political events made me miss home even more. I just love discussing those kind of things with friends. I miss having those intellectual sparring over a bottle of brandy (our preferred jet fuel that made our brains fly). I miss a lot of things, for I have left all of them back home except for one thing…the pride I feel for my country and my race. It’s not a pride given by Manny Pacquiao or Charice. It’s just a simple brown man’s pride for a land that molded him to be the person he is now – A person who fears God, but respects all men. Imperfect, but always persevering to be better today than he was yesterday…in the same way that he wants to be better tomorrow than he is today.

It’s been a year. And after a year I read again my favorite essay from a great Filipino – Carlos P. Romulo, excerpts of which are as follows:

“I am a Filipino – inheritor of a glorious past, hostage to the uncertain future.  As such, I must prove equal to a two-fold task – the task of meeting my responsibility to the past, and the task of performing my obligation to the future.

I am sprung from a hardy race – child many generations removed of ancient Malayan pioneers. ***

This land I received in trust from them, and in trust will pass it to my children, and so on until the world is no more.

I am a Filipino. In my blood runs the immortal seed of heroes – seed that flowered down the centuries in deeds of courage and defiance.  In my veins yet pulses the same hot blood that sent Lapulapu to battle against the alien foe, that drove Diego Silang and Dagohoy into rebellion against the foreign oppressor,

That seed is immortal.  It is the self-same seed that flowered in the heart of Jose Rizal that morning in Bagumbayan when a volley of shots put an end to all that was mortal of him and made his spirit deathless forever; the same that flowered in the hearts of Bonifacio in Balintawak, of Gregorio del Pilar at Tirad Pass, of Antonio Luna at Calumpit, that bloomed in flowers of frustration in the sad heart of Emilio Aguinaldo at Palanan, and yet burst forth royally again in the proud heart of Manuel L. Quezon when he stood at last on the threshold of ancient Malacanang Palace, in the symbolic act of possession and racial vindication.

The seed I bear within me is an immortal seed.  It is the mark of my manhood, the symbol of my dignity as a human being.  Like the seeds that were once buried in the tomb of Tutankhamen many thousands of years ago, it shall grow and flower and bear fruit again.  It is the insigne  of my race, and my generation is but a stage in the unending search of my people for freedom and happiness.

I am a Filipino, child of the marriage of the East and the West.  The East, with its languor and mysticism, its passivity and endurance, was my mother, and my sire was the West that came thundering across the seas with the Cross and Sword and the Machine.  I  am of the East, an eager participant in its struggles for liberation from the imperialist yoke.  But I know also that the East must awake from its centuried sleep, shake off the lethargy that has bound its limbs, and start moving where destiny awaits.***

At the vanguard of progress in this part of the world I stand – a forlorn figure in the eyes of some, but not one defeated and lost.  For through the thick, interlacing branches of habit and custom above me I have seen the light of the sun, and I know that it is good.  I have seen the light of justice and equality and freedom, my heart has been lifted by the vision of democracy, and I shall not rest until my land and my people shall have been blessed by these, beyond the power of any man or nation to subvert or destroy.

I am a Filipino, and this is my inheritance.  What pledge shall I give that I may prove worthy of my inheritance? I shall give the pledge that has come ringing down the corridors of the centuries ***

I am a Filipino born of freedom, and I shall not rest until freedom shall have been added unto my inheritance – for myself and my children’s – forever.”

A note to my Boy…

My dear Ace,

 

I know you are still too young to read this, much less understand every word I say. But time will come when you will understand the thoughts of your father in one cold, sleepless autumn night.

 

When you grow up, I may not be able to run with you. My bones might be too brittle to do some extreme stuff with you. My mind could be way too old to understand and appreciate the things you like. But believe me when I say I want to do those things with you, although I can’t. Those are the downside of getting old. Don’t blame me for not having you earlier in my life for things could’ve been worse. I lived fast when I was much younger. I liked to believe that the world should revolve around me. I was rash, stubborn, egotistic, and irresponsible. Then age caught up with me. I realized that I already looked foolish doing the things I used to do. My principles and ideas before seemed too childish. You learn a lot of things as you get older. You learn to separate fantasy from reality. Then, I started picking up the pieces strewn in the dark recesses of my life and started anew. Those were the times I prepared myself for fatherhood.  The journey wasn’t easy, but looking back…it was well worth it…for now, I have you.

 

Who could argue that you weren’t God-given? It was raining hard when your mom started feeling the cramps. I was too tired to drive due to fatigue from work and lack of sleep. But as we were about to board the car, the skies cleared and the rain stopped. I got a sudden burst of energy which enabled me to drive safely to the hospital. The rain and the fatigue returned minutes after you were born. Oh, and let us not forget that your mom just barely got dressed in her hospital gown and laid down in the bed when you started creeping out.

 

I will always live inside you, just as you will always live inside me. Your dreams will be my dreams, your frustrations will be my frustrations. You will always be a part of everything I accomplish and achieve. You will continue my cycle of life, overlapping for a brief period before you continue on your own as I reach my end. But I hope I will be able to teach you enough that I will always be a part of everything you do. I’m hoping that you will never forget me when I’m gone, but I’m hoping even more that you will never forget me while I still live. Apart from my Creator, you are my source of strength. You also have the power to take it away and leave me broken.

 

I may not be able to give you everything you want, but I am willing to break my back just to give you everything you need. I may not be a perfect father, for there’s no such thing. But I will continue to strive to be one. At the very least, I will strive to be a better father today than I was yesterday, the same way that I will strive to be better tomorrow than I am today. My absence is only temporary. At your young age, it pains me more to be away. You are way too young to understand that pain as of now, but when you get older I hope you’ll understand that it was a necessity to give you a better future with more choices than what I had.

 

You were named after a conqueror, a Savior, and a king. But it was never intended to pressure you to be any or all of them. With God’s grace, you will grow up to be the person He intends you to be. Whatever it is remains to be seen. But one thing is for sure…you will always be my boy. I will always be proud of you.

 

Love,

 

Daddy