It was January, just a couple of days after New Year’s Eve when my mom was about to deliver her sixth child. I felt the excitement in the atmosphere, especially when I looked at my stepfather’s face. It was as if his whole body was in chaos. I envied the unborn child.
While looking at them, I made a conjecture why kismet deprived me of having my dad worry this much when my mom was about to give birth to me. I’m not in ire with fate or what, I just wonder how it feels to have a dad of my own.
My mom just graduated from college when she was impregnated. My dad was still studying then and was forced to continue schooling from afar when his parents knew that mom was pregnant. He left without leaving a single word of assurance that he’ll be back after several years or even a decade. So my mom suffered nine months of discrimination even from her own family. Though I never felt the shame she had, I know she had it badly but dealt with it bravely. A big wow to her when she was forced to drink something to abort me but refused to. She even flew away to escape from her own family.
Next day after she gave birth to me, she was threatened when her aunt proposed to adopt me. Before they could settle the matter, mom registered me under her. She stood up and went to the civil registrar of the place through the help of the midwife. She suffered but she was so strong that she did that.
Now that I’m already 18, I realized so many things about premarital sex and the like issues. I know my mom was not bad when she was younger. I know she didn’t really plan giving birth to someone without a father. Maybe she forgot or got blinded with the promises that all men could raise to any woman they wanted to make love with.
I’m still dubious if my father really thought of marrying mom. We’ve seen each other for several times already but we’ve never really talked about serious matters.
When I was seven years old, he went back for good, maybe to marry mom but it was too late for him to do that. Mom was already three months pregnant. He was not even allowed to see and talk to mom. He had no choice.
I believe that finding and having are two too different things. Yes, I did find him but this just makes me more sad. I only found him and have my whole life dying to have him.
I don’t actually put so much emotion on this issue of my life. In fact, I’m happily enjoying everything that life is offering me. It’s only during the times that big problems confront me that I remember this and have the idea that I should have not suffered or even encountered such problems if only my dad made a good woman of my mom.
When I look at kids inside churches and parks with their father, I can’t help but ask myself “what if I have my dad with me?” Ode et amo (I hate and love) to see fathers kiss their kids anytime they wanted to; those who know the first words spoken by their children; especially those who play with their kids. These kids got something I have to live without.
This issue has never been a secret to me. Mom was open to me about what happened and I’m really thankful. When mom knew that I was already able to understand, she started construing everything. Most people ask me what made me so mature so early and I guess it’s all because I was exposed to mature issues even at my young age. I sometimes realize that I’ve never really felt being a kid. I remember when I was younger, I didn’t play with kids. I preferred talking to elders and even got scolded so often for doing that. Well, mom and grandma always told me not to interrupt to mature talks. Now I know they were right when they said so. However, I still did. I believe that my playmates who were of my age didn’t had the same level of maturity as mine, though I was not underestimating them. When we talked, they always asked me to explain things further and all I had to say was “it’s not that I can’t explain; it’s just that you wouldn’t understand.” It irritated me when they kept me explaining everything.
My early years were not so easy. I had to nimble with things especially in dealing with practical issues in life.
The situation and misfortune itself truly changed what the whole scenario should have been. It gave me the edge; it changed my perception about life, about everything, especially about love.
However, I have my step dad with me. Our relationship is okay and he treats me as his own. This makes me happy and sad at the same time. The idea that this man treats me this and that way, keeps me figuring out what could have been if he’s the real one.
Worst is, I lost my dad without even having him.
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