Oh, My Papa

As I am writing this poem, my heart aches with sorrow. Yet, a smile is on my face remembering you, knowing that you loved me, wishing I could hug you tight and bury my face on your shoulder and say “I love you.” There are no “ifs” for you have been gone for ten years. There are no “ifs” for I could not turn back times and it would also be a waste of time going over and over about our father daughter relationship for we cannot redo it. Ours was lukewarm making my heart weep for I felt you were supporting Mama’s indifference to me. She being your wife and my biological mother, who gave me to her sister when I was one year and three months old. It could have been better, sweeter and warmer and there is something I can do to do that for deep in my heart I admired a lot of things about you, your warmth and musicality you enthusiastically shared with many. When we were children, you weaved our palms for Palm Sunday making us so happy to carry to church, you made and hung Christmas lanterns in our windows and you played your guitar or ukulele while we sang. As a grandfather, you were the chauffer taking most of your grandkids to and from their schools and you were the only one who could calm and pacify the little ones crying their heart out and put them to sleep. You entertained playing the piano, guitar, ukulele, harmonica, dancing the Tango with Mama, led line dance, like Mambo and Cha Cha, sang in choir and helped charities by serving in community centers. Although we rarely talked, you called to check on me and took me to and from the airport when I was traveling for work. I was surprised that you told an associate “I was the brightest among your children.” I visited you many times to spend time with you, gave you sponge baths and massages before you passed. I was surprised when I heard Mama in your viewing, “She could not believe you embroidered my diapers.” After Mama passed three years ago, my youngest brother told me that you told him that when Mama gave me to her sister, you were not home. You only knew when you got back home. It broke your heart. I was shocked, stunned, heartbroken, silenced by the revelation. I wished I knew. Why didn’t you tell me? One of my sisters-in-law told me how you praised me and the way I dance in our language making me laughed. I went to your grave, cleared and stroke the headstone. I told you “I was grief-stricken to know how heartbroken you were when you found out I was gone and I was so sad Mama did not even have the fortitude to tell you.” I added “I am sorry I was blinded all these years thinking you knew and I am so thankful to know what I did not know and how proud you were of me, thank so much! I wish you could let me know you hear me, I love you.” I sensed a presence and felt a very cold air hugging me. I really freaked out and said “Don’t scare me, I am a scary cat!”. The presence was quickly gone. I ashamedly said, “I am sorry. Thank you for being here, hearing me.”