I
have never met my father. Ever. I have never seen his face, nor have I heard
his voice. No pictures, no memories. As if he’s non-existent. He was just a name on my Birth
Certificate. A name that was blatantly
vague. I couldn’t dare ask questions,
thus, I couldn’t dare demand answers.
Having no father figure,
I dread Father's Day, the most. For me,
it is the loneliest holiday ever, even ‘blacker’ than all Black Saturdays,
combined. Of course, I acted
nonchalantly, to save face. I gave the
impression that I couldn’t care less, but, literally, I was in shreds.
Now,
I’m all grown up, yet certain that I never outgrew the little boy lost persona
inside me. I’m still that boy who has no
one to call Dad, Daddy, Papa, Tatay, Ama.
Still crying silent tears. Still
unrelentingly praying, wishing, hoping, longing and yearning to be complete.
Until
last week.
I accessed my Facebook
account. And there it was: a friend
request. From someone I have never
met. Ever. Someone whose face I have never seen, whose
voice I have never heard.
It was from my Dad.
TO BE CONTINUED…..
