One time, my dad brought home a rag doll with blue hair for me. I knew that it was him who chose it, it was him who bought it and that my mom had no hand in it whatsoever. And so I love that doll very much. It was special because I knew my dad took time for that gift. I really felt sad when I discovered that my mom donated it to charity without my knowledge. I would have wanted to keep it until it was hardly recognizable. However, to make myself better, I just imagined that doll making another child happy, and at least, I will always have the person who gave it to me.
In college, Daddy gave me a shirt which had an art contest winner for Coca-Cola Foundation. I loved that shirt as much as I loved that rag doll. Unlike that doll however, I still have that shirt with me. It's at least 17 years old already! That shirt was with me when I became a Jesuit Volunteer in Mindoro and Bukidnon, when I did field work for JVP and for Assisi, when I studied in Netherlands and whenever I travel for work. That shirt has been places. It was my way of having Dad around and reminding myself that he will always be there.
I probably would not be able to let go of that shirt. I'm a hoarder that way. I'd rather keep my old stuff and get rid of newer items which I have less emotional inclination for. That shirt, in particular, is too special.
But even if I no longer have that shirt (I hope because one of the boys swiped it), Dad will always be there. A big part of me is from him. Things he taught me without knowing he has taught me. Like, even with the bad rep men have, good men are capable of loving a woman beyond what she expects, therefore there is no point to settle for less. He taught me dedication to duty. He has taught me love for family. He has taught me compassion for others. These were greater gifts none could take away but something I hope to pass on.
He was gone too soon. Physically. But his spirit has never left. I thank the Father for giving me my father.
Happy Dad's Day, Dad!
