The Man I Became

Inadvertently, I was beating the bass drum with the drumstick. He beckoned me so I can take glimpse of the sliding motion with the stick's head. Having two drum sets in the house is technically noisy and incommodious. He was sweating, he asked my youngest sibling to fetch a towel while still making invisible half-notes in the air. My father never had a proper music class training but I admire how he learned to write notes for his drum rips.

"Okay, ganito yan Joe, lalagyan mo ng friction para magawa mo yung tunog pero bago ka mag-half note itatas mo na yung stick kasi nagva-vibrate pa yung string sa baba, kaya may tunog pa rin. Subukan mo," then he would beat my stick so I could tap out just in time. "Yon! Nakuha mo, sige ulitin mo yan hanggang mag-chorus, tapos 'yung dalawang tom tapos yung cymbals sa kanan."

He is a perfectionist. He should be, after working for almost ten bands in more than twenty years. Being the only son, he wanted me to follow his track. I needed to learn how to play the violin, piano, drums, saxophone, lead and bass guitars.

A consequence of his job is to be abroad most of the time. According to my Psychology professor, the absence of an older male figure in a boy's early years paves way to the boy's attraction to other boys. Attention was pivotal to gender accountability. This is how I became. It was, probably, because of him.

I never deprive him of the right to be lauded, though. He is my greatest music mentor. He worked for us to live decently. He never lacked for our provisions. He is the best man that I know. To me, he is the greatest drummer. He is the second best provider, next to Him. He is my father.

We barely speak for the past years. Maybe, because I don't know what else to say whether on the phone or at home. We were never tie-close. In the course of time maybe he too, noticed that I was dodging conversations with him. To me there was little to talk about.  I always admire those cool father-son relationships I see on TV, wishing I also have that to brag. I always had hope that we will reach a point when both of us will engage in a conversation not relating to music or school, to give us a tighter bond. He is getting older and so am I. But these never materialized. There are what-ifs.

There are a few ocassions wherein I could have told him this but there is a brevity in the courage of my tongue to release the words. Words which might have been the only thing that he needs to hear to weaken our differences, if not erase them:.

I love you, Pa.

Iskolar

I was blissed by the discovery that I have once again reached the average grade required for a College Scholarship.

Yeah, Dean's List! Thank You Lord! :)

Long Time, Mom

I can't write anything to my Mama but I think I will be able to write anything about and for her.

PreScript: This is long. But this is for my mom. I don't wan't to set a limit for her.

I remember when I was four to five years young, my Mama and Papa used to work abroad, though not together. Mama went to Japan and Papa went to the Diego Garcia, one of the British Territories in the Atlantic. My mom was a singer. She works in a lounge and sings Japanese songs with a band. My dad is in a band too; he gives beat to the drums.

Even if you say I'm too young to possibly remember it, but I know I was crying hard when my mom left. Probably harder as compared to when my dad left. I guess it is because I'm used with dad leaving (even up to now).

I was six when mom came back. I think my parents had an agreement at that time to have only one of them working. From then on, it is my mom who tends to us. Papa comes home every six months or worst, in every two years.

This is the reason why I'm more of my mother's son than my dad's. I tell almost everything to my mom. I wanted her to know that I am trusting her and that I'm going to grow up as the son she had always wanted.

Being eldest in the family, its hard to set aside your responsibilities over your desires because your parents always looks at your faults and gives you a hard time if you can't live up to their expectations, if you can't follow whatever they have to tell you. Everyday is a training to being a Team Leader. Everyday, you get punishments like a Commander from the General whenever you break orders. You are always expected to be better than a babysitter when it comes to working with your siblings.

This is not a rant. But its more of giving my mom all credits because she made me into a good Team Leader, Commander and Babysitter, perhaps we could also include Housekeeper, Chef, and Butler. *LOL*

There were a lot of times when my mom and I had misunderstandings. The worst of them was when I was in high school. I did something to my neighbor which pissed my mom off. What she did was to talk it over between me, the concerned neighbor, and my neighbor's mom. I was so much of a rebel at that time, that I didn't care less of what I had to say. She slapped me in front of my neighbor's family because of that. Feeling humiliated, I ran away cursing her on my mind. Later, I knew that I was so wrong. When we got home, she cried and hugged me and said sorry in innumerable times, told me to never do it again and if it hurts me, it hurts her tenfold.

We never learn our lessons once, and in the later years there have been more instances of me and my mom fighting, either because I don't get what I want which I'm sure I deserved, or because she doesn't get what she wants which she thinks is good for her. I bet in their point of view, its the other way around.

As I figure it out, my being busy and her being workaholic brought about, somehow, an enstangement of feelings. When we eat dinner, we seldom talk and I always tend to get water or something when she starts asking things. There were times when I get home late just not to intersect with her late uwian time, to avoid either her afterwork rant or paglalambing. I go to school early so we won't have excuse to talk during the morning. I don't text her except if there is something important that I need to tell her. Whenever we stroll, I always make sure my iPod is with me so I can always get away from a conversation. I answer back everytime I 'think' I have the more right explanation.

But, I also realized, that I was much of an insensitive son which grows deeper to an insensitive man. Naaawa ako pag nakikita ko siya from work. She works 8 days a week which is if you sum up all the unpaid overtime and after work transactions. She doesn't even have time for herself. She comes home late and wakes up early for the next day. She can't treat herself unless all of our needs are fulfilled. As I think of it, all that she wanted was just make our lives easier yet, ganito ang ginagawa ko sa kanya.

Sometimes, when I'm on emo-mode, I think about the things that I should have told her. Of the secrets that had branched into more complex twigs of lies and false pretense. Of the times when I could have helped but I worsened the situation. Of the times when I refused to follow even if I knew she was right. Of the should-haves which could have been one step closer to a renewal: I hate myself that I screw as a son.

However, I still believe that it resolves to the proverb All Is Well That Ends Well. I regret the times that I did not tell her my true feelings. I disgust the lies that I had to tell even if some of them would make her feel better. I hate the moments when I had to follow my wrong self. I just wanted her to know that she is the only woman that is worth my life and that my life would suck without her. I wanted to give her an assurance that I'm always here to back her up and defend her if I need to.

There are a few ocassions wherein I could have told her this but there is a brevity in the courage of my tounge to release the words. Words which might have been the only thing that she needs to hear to weaken our differences, if not erase them:



I love you so much Ma.


*This post came from my old blog and was published 8th of May, 2010. Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers in this Earth.