Two gifts and tears of joy

Father’s Day. I wasn’t looking forward to it.

It had been a tough couple of months. I had just survived my first college tuition, and the traffic on Katipunan had been murder. Vincent was working his butt off in training as a rookie for Ateneo’s Team B, as well as handling all his requirements as a freshman. And the most I could do was bring him to school in the morning. Daniel was an incoming high school senior, and will hopefully be named team captain of the Benedictine International School Tigersharks basketball team (we’re keeping our fingers crossed), though he’s been worried about the team’s chances this year. Oh yes, lest I forget, he had tuition to be paid, too.

Between doing the groceries, dealing with the maid and the dog, paying the bills for the phone, electricity, association dues and other obligations, as well as a couple of new projects I was pushing, I was feeling overwhelmed and tired. On top of all that, I felt I wasn’t there for them enough, with all the work I had to do. Were they okay?

In the little spare time that they had, of course, they wanted to be with their friends, teammates or schoolmates. I guess once you get past 11 years old (which they long had) it wasn’t cool to be hanging around the old man anymore. Wow, emphasis on old.

I knew that I would be spending Father’s Day mostly working or alone, and the thought depressed me. Then, to top it all off, the car engine needed to be overhauled. I was feeling concerned more and more. Was I doing enough for them? Was I enough?

Saturday, as I brought Vincent (to a freshman obligation) and later Daniel to school (for training), I was getting sad that I wouldn’t be with them as much as I wanted to on that rare day I felt would be for me. Then, as each of them was getting out of the car, they each said “I love you, Dad.” My heart stopped, and I felt better. Sunday, before the crack of dawn, I was on the quiet streets of Metro Manila, heading towards the Quirino Grandstand for the 2009 Olympic Day Run. It would be a busy morning, and I left the house calm, knowing the boys were sleeping soundly at home.

I also felt my spirit lift because my sons gave my spirit an immeasurable lift.

Before leaving, I saw a text message on my phone from my older son, Vincent. It read “Happy Father’s Day, Dad. There’s something on the table for you.”

True enough, on the dining table, was an index card with his freshman scrawl: “Happy Father’s Day, Dad. This was the last of its stock.” It was a little half-body resin bust of Superman, flying upwards through a large silver “S” emblem. Tears welled up in my eyes. For student adjusting to a new environment, new classmates, and new teammates, and trying to budget his allowance, this was something. But more significant, it was a token of appreciation, that touched me deeply. I’m a Batman fan, but for me, this represented how my son saw me.

When I got home, tired after being in the heat of the Sunday sun, I sat down to breakfast, took a deep sigh, and just wanted to sleep again. Daniel, my younger son, came down the stairs, hair mussed up as it usually is before he spends an inordinate amount of time fixing it. He handed me a Paulo Coelho book, “The Witch of Portobello”. I had been posting quite a few readings from Coelho and other authors like Neale Donald Walsch on my facebook account as a way to breathe, with appreciative response from a handful of online friends.

But what gave me a flood of emotion was the card that came with it. The Father’s Day card read “Everybody needs a ‘no matter what’ guy.” That’s a guy who’s always there for you, rain or shine, no matter what...”

And what pushed me over the edge was Daniel’s dedication inside it, sandwiched between the templated lines of the card.

“Happy Father’s Day Dad (with a small smiley face u). I know you’ve been working hard to be able to provide for us and be there for us at the same time. Hopefully this book will be able to relieve some of the stress from work and everything else. I hope you have fun on Father’s Day Dad. I’m proud of you. Thanks for being there no matter what, Dad. God bless. I love you.”

Tears just flowed out of my eyes, unbidden. I couldn’t stop them. I had flashbacks of all the difficult times we had survived: Vincent’s early and frequent hospitalization (including one New Year I spend with him above the emergency room); the house burning down a month before Daniel was born; rushing to the emergency room when Vincent hit his head and needed stitches when he was six; Daniel crying over the phone that he missed me when I was at the Olympic Games when he was four. My wondering if all the travel was worth it. Their first basketball games, and frustrations. Adjusting to high school, all our conversations in the car or the living room. How they had cried for days when a teammate was killed in a car accident. Their first girl problems. All the things I wish I could have shielded them from or hoped I had guided them better for. We had been through so much, more than many other fathers and sons.

Thank God for my sons. Without them I would not be the man that I am today. I felt God’s hand on my shoulder on Father’s Day, and remembered who I was living for, and the first Father who will never forsake me.

When I die and am buried, Superman, the book and the two cards are going with me. Those are the only things I’ll joyfully show off to the Almighty, and I know He’ll smile, too.