Lucky I Always Have My Dad With Me

Papa is not the perfect dad. But it won't make me think any less of him. He may not be the ideal father, yet I love him for just the way he is. I couldn't really ask for more. He is just the right dad for me.

When I was a kid, the first things that come to my mind when I hear the word "Papa" are new toys, new clothes, new shoes, voice-tapes and greeting cards. He was away then to work at Saudi Arabia. I remember how it felt like whenever he comes home, I was always excited at the maximum. The surprises were always the greatest thrills. I wouldn't have an idea he's coming home until he's here. There even was that one time when he picked us up after school and we were really surprised. I don't know if it was also the same time when he carried me on his back all the way home. The only thing I am sure about is that I was really wanting everybody's eyes on me and my dad. So there won't be a need to say, "Hey! My Papa is home."

Things changed as I grew older. I got so rebellious as hell when I was 16. I learned to smoke cigarettes (and weeds), and started to get addicted to alcohol. I got along with the wrong group of people, the ones who won't think of their futures. We would spend every single night at our hang-out drinnking until morning, if not until we're wasted. I would always find my self in trouble. I fought a whole lot, blotter records are going to prove that. My so-called friends and I even had chases with patrol cars, and there were times we ended-up being caught. By then, Papa was really furious with me. We would always have a row, everyday. We would forever shout at each other everytime we felt like doing so. I was being rude and thoughtless, I know I was hurting him so much. Maybe not physically, but I got him hurt emotionally. Technically, I hurt him. It was awful. I was so pathetic. It felt impossible to gain trust from him anymore. But as a rebellious, teenage-dirtbag that I was, I still can't stop doing things I thought were cool. Until I finally realized what I've done.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror one night, and I saw me there. Piercings everywhere, bloodshot eyes, hevy eye-liners trying to cover those huge eye-bags, filthy hair and the air of angst and notoriety in my aura. I was sure then that Papa isn't happy to see me like that. I cried. The softness of the inner me ruled. I realized I'm not proving anything out of being rebellious. I'm giving a bad name not just for my self, but also to my family. And so I turned my back from the supid a**hole I had become.

I am having a perfect relationship with Papa now. Maybe not perfect in it's truest sense, just perfect for me at least. I completely forgot about being the black sheep and even got my self in church activities and youth organizations. I learned a lot from that episode of my not so picture-perfected life story. And I don't want to turn Papa down again. Papa really is the best dad in the world. My friends even say they wish they have a dad like mine. I am proud he's my father. I want to show him how I really am sorry for what I've done before. I want to thank him for he carried me home an awful lot of times because I got drunk and wasted. For he covered me with the warm blanket, it made me feel secured. For he gave me that sponge bath with warm water and isopropyl. For he accepted my apology with no hesitations. For he is never turned down inspite of what I am. I want to tell him I love him so much. And that I feel lucky to have him for a dad. I hope he feels it when I kiss him.

I wish we can be closer than ever. I want to spend time with him more often. I want to try to do his stuffs like constructing wooden chairs and tables, and gardening. It can be a good bonding activity for us. I want to laugh with him at the gag shows on primetime TV. And to fix our messed-up sound system with him. Maybe I can even talk to him about the guy I like, I wonder what he's going to say. I want to take care of him when he's old. And more importantly, I want him to know that he still have a son in me inspite of what I am.