The Pathetic Story of Fatherhood II

Last December 12, 2008 our father had a stroke. It was his first time – nearly fatal – that cost him the right side of his body. He is only 61 years old. (Save the obituary page for now).

So much that we, his children, think about how it happened. He’s the only one who knew what caused it. But reading between the lines, he was so full of regrets, full of guilt. At least, we were not short of giving him advices regarding his diet and the binge drinking. Ewan ba, but he can’t refuse to go out from the meaning of Filipino machismo literally and figuratively.

Seeing him limped in a hospital bed, one of my brothers and I thought of the good things we and our father had shared. His strong arms that used to spank us whenever we committed childhood mischief is no longer alert. He just murmured his inaudible instructions so much so that we miss his dry sense of humor. Good thing, his brain was not damaged. He is a good father – a good provider, a strict disciplinarian and a strong-willed person. On the other hand, he also has his shortcomings, particularly with my mother. But at that particular moment she’s always the supportive better-half.

The situation brought another unfair condition for our mother. True, they were bound to stick with each other through thick and thin, for better or worse. But during those times that he was drinking, abusing his physical self, he didn’t think of our mother or his safety or the financial implications. Our mother is always at the receiving end. That’s why we can’t blame her when she snapped irritably and uttered to the doctor that “he’s my roommate.”

At this instant, my brother and I contemplated about our future as husbands and fathers. Would our wife and children be there if we’re in the same situation? Would they be around to amuse us with their humor? Would they be our ears to listen to the doctor’s instructions? Would they be our mouths so that we can speak? Would they be our arms if we’re immobile? Would they be our feet to buy for our simple needs?

Our father’s immobility compels us to be strong and brace for the tough times ahead. More importantly, we don’t want to be helpless. We don’t want to be reduced as a mere roommate or housemate that can be evicted anytime. We don’t want to be taken out from their memories.