Superman

Those who don’t believe that Superman is real have not met my father.

My parents married young. My father had to put his masters degree on hold because he needed to find a job to support my mother and me. He enlisted in the Philippine Constabulary shortly after I was born and assigned in Mindanao, the southern part of the country. 

My mother told me a story of how when I was two years old, I ran towards her screaming, “Ma! There’s a stranger in the house!” It was my father. She said that scene broke his heart so he left the military and finished school because he wanted to be near his children. 

But fate had a different thing in mind. He found a job as an accountant in a bank but because he was a new hire, he didn’t have a say on where he was assigned. His first post was in Cotabato (Mindanao). It wasn’t what he wanted but at least, he got to see us once every 2-3 months instead of once every two years.

So Tats, as my sisters and I fondly call him, was away from home for a good portion of my childhood. He was reassigned a few times to different parts of the country depending on where he was needed. It wasn't until he got a managerial post that he was transferred to a bank branch in the city where we lived. I was already in highschool by then. We could’ve all gone everywhere with him but he and my mother decided it was best for them to give us a more anchored life. So my mother practically raised us by herself (with my grandmother’s help).

Perhaps, juggling a full-time career, raising three girls, and being away from her husband for long stretches explained why my mother was very strict, especially towards me. My rebellious streak and stubborn tendencies clashed with her headstrong nature. Needless to say, my mother was my least favorite person growing up (now, I am extremely grateful to her; but that’s a topic for another time). So I counted the days and nights till Tats came home and “save” me from her. 

Tats made everything better. He is cool, calm, and collected and it seems that nothing fazes him. He brings out the best in people, especially my mother. When he’s around, she is more relaxed, happier, laughed a lot, and was not as hard on me and my stubbornness. This is probably why, as a child, I saw Tats as my hero. Sure, he grilled me on my fractions and multiplications, made sure I knew about the country’s history and the state of its politics, and pestered me about homework and brushing my teeth and cleaning my shoes; but he made me laugh at his corny jokes and I looked forward to his homecomings the way children expect gifts on Christmas. Because when he’s around, it felt like Christmas. Not to mention that he always brought books!

Tats is an optimist. He has a way of seeing things through rose colored glasses and saw humor in everything. I knew it annoyed my mom a little bit. One day, I heard her say, “Tay, do you think we should buy a car?” To which, Tats replied, “Sure! Tomorrow. How many?” My mom rolled her eyes. I laughed!

The way I idolized him as a kid, one would think that we were close. We were not. He was closer to my youngest sister. When he finally lived with us full time, I was a teenager and preferred to be left alone in my room to listen to music, read, write in my journals, and daydream.

He made every effort to reach out to me. He drove me to and from school every day and we discussed politics, religion, values, driving, college degrees, dreams, goals, movies, and books; a lot of grown-up stuff. He gave me advise on how to manage my time and money, to not take advantage of people, to always give your best even when no one is watching, and to never lose the appetite for knowledge because you’re never too old to learn new things. We bonded over our favorite TV shows, James Bond movies, and food. But as much as I enjoyed our chats and loved the times we had together, I did not reach a point where I felt close to him.

Intellectual connection is something I look for in people. But it's often not enough. I crave emotional connections as well and Tats and I didn’t talk about what made me sad or what scared me or what made me extremely giddy with happiness. And because of that, I was a little uneasy talking to him about certain things such as boys and dating; I think he sensed that and never brought it up. The closest he got to giving us, his daughters, relationship advice, was when he said this at my sister’s wedding: “It is every father’s dream to see their daughters happy and if it involved having to give away their hand in marriage, hope that it’s to Godly men who will love them and keep them happy.” I cried (of course). No, my father and I are not close but we are not strangers either. And that’s a good thing, considering how our first meeting went when I was 2 years old. 

Maybe I lionize my father a tad too much. It’s hard not to when for most of my life, he could do no wrong. Perfect was how I looked at him. When I was younger and extremely naive, I told my mother that I would not marry anyone who was not like Tats. And she wisely replied, “No, don’t say that; you’re setting yourself up for disappointment. You will never find anyone like him because there’s only one him. A Godly man who loves you will do just fine.”

But as I got older, I realized that my father is not perfect. He is human. I saw temperaments and quirks that I didn’t notice before and his relationship with my mother is not all roses and chocolates. Yet, those faults I discovered endeared him to me even more. He’s all wrinkly now, his hair is more silver than black, he’s thinner and shorter, and he no longer looks as strong and powerful as he appeared when I was kid. But he will always be my Superman.

..in my father's footsteps.