Confessions of a Closet Daddy’s Girl A Father's Day Entry
One of my most favorite memories that relates to my dad was a scene that happened when he wasn’t even there. I think I was around four years old, when my mom was giving me a bath and I was being a bratty kid. Obviously, I wasn’t enjoying being bathed because I was sleepy, and my mom was aggressively pouring water all over me and scrubbing me. In that moment of desperation, and in tears I shouted, “Isusumbong kita kay Daddy!” I don’t know why I thought the statement could save me, but somehow, I think even as young as I was at that time, I just knew that my Dad will always come through for me and will always save me from whatever shit I get into… no matter what.
Growing up, I was a good daughter; I never disobeyed my parents, and NEVER did anything to jeopardize the “future” that my Dad would always rave about when he’d talk to me about school and my grades. I have only been spanked twice by my Dad, the first time was when I got a low grade in my Christian Living periodic exam in grade school. Well, it wasn’t really low, it’s just that I ranked third in that exam. The second was when I got into a fight with my brother and sister and he woke up, not too happy about it. He used his belt on all of us. My brother and my sister got hit more, but only because they were more “pasaway.” But if there’s anything endearing about this whole “spanking” thing, it would be the fact that my Dad always explained why he had to do it. He made us sit on his lap, would ask for a kiss and explain, carefully why we deserved to be hit. Surprisingly, I did understand. Years later, I would always remember those moments and remember the valuable lessons that he taught me in relation to them. The first time, he wanted make me understand that it is acceptable to not always be on top, but what wasn’t acceptable was to not give it your all. The second time, he needed me to remember that my brother and my sister will make mistakes, big and small ones, but I should never ever give up on them in the same way that they shouldn’t ever give up on me. He wanted us to learn the importance of family.
My Dad is the only one who can get away with giving me the nickname Tabachoy without me taking offense. He’s the only one who can call me Frenchie Dy, Marissa Sanchez and sometimes, Marissa Delgado, when he feels that I’m fastly gaining weight, he’s the only one who can call me Heidi Yorac after i get a haircut with bangs, Dennis of GhostFighter when I got a layered haircut and Nazareno when I had my hair curled. He’s the only one who can caution me from “artsy looking, madungis guys” because he thinks they look patapon… notwithstanding that fact that he isn’t good-looking at all. He’s the only one who has accepted my fashion eccentricity enough that when I was walking with them in the mall with my skirt half-lifted all the way to my butt, he didn’t tell me because he thought it was “my style.”
To my friends, my Dad is the cool one. He embarrasses me every time he gets the chance and they love it. One time, my Dad was teasing me about my weight in front of the Perksquad and to my defense I said, “Wow, nagsalita naman ang payat.” I thought I won, but he had to give me a really malupit comeback, “Ako may asawa na, e ikaw?” Personal attack! He loves my friends, he genuinely cares for them and never forgets to ask about them when he gets the chance. My Dad values the simple things in life, he is not a big fan of grandiosity but he only heeds to materialism when the ones being material are US. He’d choose Argentina Corned beef over all the imported ones, he’d be most happy with LIGO / MEGA Sardines and never enjoys Spanish sardines. His simplicity just inspires me and reminds me that nothing matters more than contentment and love.
Most importantly, my Dad has taught me to NOT BE AFRAID TO FAIL and COMMIT MISTAKES. He has fallen gazillions of times, and I have never seen him resign to the idea of hopelessness. He has always been calm, occasionally making fun of the gravity of the situation. He’d shrug his shoulder and move on. He taught me to be strong but acknowledge that there will be times that you will have to be weak with God. He taught me to have FAITH.
My Dad is not perfect, far from it. But his imperfections do not offset his acts of love for us. His willingness to sacrifice and to endure even the most difficult of challenges for us gives me hope. He inspires me to reach for my dreams because I know that he wholeheartedly believes in me. He’d often tell me how proud he is of me but really, I am prouder to have the best father a daughter could ever have. I get the occasional pat on the back and big hug and they mean the world to me.
To my Dad, Happy Fathers’ Day! I love you and I could never thank you enough for loving us and taking care of us. I promise to make you prouder, and to take care of you, Mom, Ichie and Hazel when it’s my time to do so. Don’t worry I don’t plan to get married when I’m 28 nor when I’m 29 (You and Mom should acknowledge that your argument re: the right age to marry was just pointless.) and when I find the right man, I will make sure that he will live up to the very high standards you’ve set. Oh, and I promise that he wouldn’t be madungis!
