Eighteenth of March, 2000- the day he told me he'll never forget. It was one of those extraordinary days when he felt so blessed. He said he was very excited and nervous at the same time. His palms were sweaty and his heart full of joy.
It was seven in the evening when I was born. And my daddy believed it was the start of his wonderful journey.
I was always a stubborn child to both mom and dad. I've been causing their terrible headaches for a long time now. But still they held on and raised me as to who I am today.
My hero was the one who took care of me. He suffered every day and night, not being able to sleep and rest. He sterilized the bottles, changed my diapers, gave me a bath, and experienced all the things a mother should have done to her child. Yes, my father was my mother since mom had to work.
Dad and I shared the best friendship anyone could ever ask for. We were interested in the same things especially music. They say it's hard to be close with your dad. But in my case, it was the other way around.
When I turned seven, things became complicated. Mom and dad often fought. I always hear them yell at each other during my bedtime. From that night on, I knew something was wrong. And not long after that, my parents separated.
I wasn't able to see dad for a long time. Months have passed, and I miss him so much. But I couldn't do anything but cry.
Just when I thought I was going to live the rest of my life with no father, that is when I started believing in miracles as a 7-year old.
My dad came back to us.
When I asked him what made him do such thing, he said "You are my hero. You saved me from doing the wrong thing. You are the reason why I came back."
I swore I'd never forget what he said.
For me, he is the hero.
Dad loved to talk about his childhood. And I loved to listen to him.
He's from a poor family. He was forced to sell eggs early in the morning before going to school. After class hours, he has to be home immediately and start with the cleaning of their house. It was tiring for him, and he said he never had time to play with his friends. But he never complained.
Dad wanted to be an accountant. He was already enrolled for college but then stopped eventually because they don't have enough money to spare. It must have been so painful on his part, I thought. He wanted so bad to fulfill his dream, but now it is quite impossible for him to achieve it.
He worked as a waiter on a resort in Cavite to help his parents for the meantime. "This is for my college." he often told himself.
When they finally had money, dad went to college again. But this time, not to reach his goal of being an accountant. He had to shift because their saved money is not enough for an accountancy course. But still, he never complained.
And here he is now, teaching business management to college students. "Aren't you sad you did not become an accountant?" I asked dad. "I am." he said. "But this is what God has planned for me."
Thank you, dad for inspiring me with your beautiful story. Thank you, Giezi R. Mangoba, my hero.
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