The men of my life (Part I)

He was an achiever. Coming from a simple family, he became the pride of his parents. He had numerous awards and recognitions in and out of the country. He became the best of what he could be. He was my father.

As far as I can remember, he had been a professor in a well known university in the country. Teaching was not merely a job to him, but a passion. Some students admired him, others despised him. All I know is that he devoted nearly half of his life to teaching. Teaching was his life and it was taken from him.

He got his highest education in Thailand. During those years, I and my younger brother had to live by without a father. I only knew him because I saw him in pictures given to us by our mother. We were young to understand that he had to leave us for years. At an early age, I felt far from him. So when he got back, I never really got that close to him as a father. All I knew was he had my last name.

As the first born, he was depended on by his younger brothers and sisters, even cousins and other relatives. I saw him give his time and money to answer and solve numerous problems of his family and relatives. He was a philantrophist. Our house became open for those in need. Many times, my mother thought he was being taken for granted. But my dad had a generous heart and helping hand.

He had vices, smoking and drinking. I hated his puffs of smoke so much. I had to stay far from him because I could not bear the foul smell. Maybe that is why he always stayed in the master's bedroom when all of us were in the living room. My mom also hated the smell and two of my brothers had asthma.

He was a good father to us. He was the provider and decision maker. Often times, we asked him for our allowance. He was also the one who decides on whether we would be joining field trips. I rarely saw him smile. He was forever serious in everything he did. Still, when I asked him to help me in my homework, he never refused to give me some help. He was always there when I get to receive medals and diplomas. I am forever grateful that he had been my father. But I would not be able to thank him and show him how much I loved him. Not now.

For some reason that until now I could not understand, he lost his job. He had an early retirement and had to move away from us because of his pride. He could not bear the thought of not being the family's head, that he could no longer bring food on the table. I was deeply saddened by all these and we had to face it as a family. Though recently, I got another sad news. The thought of it hurts so much, it pierces an already wounded heart. From then on, I lost my father.

I admired my father. I persevered in my studies because I love my parents. My love for my parents, whatever they are now, whatever my father is now, will never cease. Time heals everything and so is this. I am lifting all the hurts to God for He loves me.