Dad

Today my mom asked me to move back to our family home. The home where I grew up in. The home where only she and my Dad are living in now. That old home that I left many years ago and have started to call "my mom and dad's house" instead of home.

A year ago, my Dad was hospitalized for the first time in his entire life. It triggered the start of many medical checkups that found him with liver cirrhosis and end stage liver cancer. On New Year's Day of 2015, while on our way to Tagaytay with my brother's family, he was hospitalized again becuase he was vomitting blood. Many tests and check ups and consultations thereafter, in August of this year, he underwent RFA (Radiofrequency Ablation) wherein a needle was stuck in his tummy towards the tumor in his liver to burn the mass. Masses, prayers, trips to PAdre Pio Shrine is what my Dad believes to be keeping him from anything worse.

The doctor said this month that my Dad can eat anything he wants. This is so he would at least eat. Because he hasn't been eating full meals for the past 6 months! And Dad thinks he's completely healed. Because, according to him, why would the doctor tell him to anything he wants if he's still sick?

So there goes my Mom asking me to move back. I know what it means. She doesn't want to be alone to face the inevitable. And I don't know if I'm strong enough to face it with her.

Tests

Leftover. Untouched milk. First day of final exams for the schoolyear and the little big man (who is not so little anymore, mind you) did not drink his milk before leaving for school. I always told him to never take tests without milk in his tummy.

Another schoolyear is almost through. 4 days of tests and we're done with 3rd and 7th grade. How time flies indeed.

Yesterday I was told that my Dad has a year to live. He'd undergone lots of tests, went to a third doctor last Friday for a third opinion on his liver cirrhosis. And yesterday around 1pm, my sister-in-law tells me this. I'm putting it out there as bluntly as I was informed. No small talk, just straight out, flat out truth. I wept, yes. I've been in denial for the last couple of months since his first hospitalization in October.

How time flies. Indeed.

conversations

the little girl and me  few weeks ago while walking on our way to the grocery. not verbatim. but it went something like this.

mas favorite ko si daddy kaysa sa yo. i love you pero mas love ko si daddy ng konti. pero i love you.

so mas love mo si daddy kaysa sa akin?

uhmm...oo... pero konti lang.. ikaw 99%, si daddy 100%

ah ok.

parang ikaw mas favorite mo si kuya kaysa sa akin.

Children begin by loving their parents; 

as they grow older they judge them;

sometimes they forgive them.

~Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

daddy

My dad, now 80, in the entire time that I have lived my own number of years, has never been confined in a hospital due to illness.

Until now.

My mom always said that my dad was less stressed between the two of them. She's 13 years younger than him. But she's the one who gets these headaches every so often and catches the flu more than dad does.

When I was a kid, I looked up to him (well, not physically coz I got my height from him) and was even afraid of him. I'd like to believe that I'm "mabait" because when I was little, I was afraid of being hit by his belt if I misbehaved. Which happened a lot to my older brother. Well, I am naturally mabait, aside from that. Tee-hee!! 😋

My dad is also naturally mabait. He can be a terror to some people but I know that is just his front. He is a caring man who takes care of his brothers and sisters and nephews and nieces long after it was his responsibility. He takes care of me and my mom and my brothers. Until now.

When my brother texted me yesterday that he was to be brought to the hospital, I had this sudden fear of the inevitable. Praying for his recovery now and many more years ahead.

"I cannot think of any need in childhood 

as strong as the need for a father's protection."

~Sigmund Freud

cousins

our little family went on a roadtrip last weekend to orani, bataan. we went to celebrate the feast of our lady of the rosary, which not many of you know, is where my first name rosario was derived from by my dad, who is a devotee.

we went to the 11am mass and afterwards, watched the banda ng mosiko, while my dad related his stories to my kids about how it used to be when he was young there in their town.

then we went to my cousin's house and had lunch.  

best part of the day were the kids enjoying their short but fun time bonding with their cousins that they didn't want to go home when it was time.  the little big man was literally begging me to let him stay overnight.  of course, that wasn't possible so hubby and i promised them we'll come back on the 31st and stay overnight.  i understand how much they long to be with their cousins and i'm glad they've built friendships and bonds with them that will last forever.

"a cousin is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost."

HOY

i was sick for two days and am back to work now but still feeling a bit woozy.  funny how everytime i don't wanna be away from work, that's when i get sick.  have a lot of things to do this week.  arggg.

anyways.

when i arrived home with fever the other day, here's a conversation i overheard between the hubby and the little girl:

little girl is going downstairs to do something i forgot that her dad told her to do.  as she was going down, the hubby called out to her:  HOY!

the little girl looked back and shouted:  baket mo ko tinatawag na hoy!  anak mo ko ah.  baket hoy ang tawag mo sa 'kin!

the hubby, shamefully:  ay sorry, anak... anak... (sweetly)

this sent me into fits of laughter while i put on warm clothes and snuggled under the sheets.  sort of eased the headache a bit and then i fell asleep.

happy father's day

For my Dad

For my Hubby