dad

trying to write about a day with my dad as a young kid was hard last week. it was hard for me to think of a particular day. dad wasn't a very present figure in my life. at least not in the sense of how i perceive parents should be. present meaning, he was home most of the time, but he wasn't really there emotionally. he didn't really talk to his kids much. very distant. he was more of a "you're my kid and i'll provide for you and maybe play with you once in a blue moon" dad. dad never talked about his feelings or even his past much. his emotions that he let out was always just anger. my happy memories of dad when i was young was of him cracking jokes, hanging out with his friends, and going to his tennis matches. we would occasionally go to pongol, my grandfather's farm in the mountains of bukidnon. i remember that to be a place where i saw my dad laugh, relax, and enjoy time with his family. that was the happy, confident dad that i remember. the not-so-happy times were there too. memories of my dad's short temper, getting drunk till the wee hours, and fighting with my mom are vivid memories. at a young age, i was both curious and scared of my dad. curious in that he seemed so distant and i wanted to get to know him more. and scared because of his volatile temper.

coming to america changed him though. the social dad who had many friends in the philippines became a recluse here. the thick bisaya accent coupled with working at convenience stores and gas stations shattered his petty bourgeois sense of self.