ph: miguel angel candiotti
This entry is dedicated to my dad and he will never read it. Sad thing.*
When I was 16 I had to write an essay in school about the person I admire the most. So I wrote about my dad. My dad is not famous, nor is he rich or talented. He is not a scientist or a professor. But he is the best man in my personal world even if he doesn’t know. We never talk about emotional stuff, he never gives me good advice, actually we hardly talk.
When my dad was young he was a biker. Motorbikes were his lifestyle, his passion, his love. But this love became his doom. A few years before he met my mother, he had a terrible accident. He was actually supposed to be dead but somehow he was strong enough to survive. I know that he was in a coma and it was still not sure if he’d make it. But after 2 long months and 2 days he finally woke up.
He had millions of traumas. He couldn’t move or speak. The doctors had to use skin of his thigh for surgery on his arm. They said he would never be able to walk again. It was so sad. My dad slowly became a healthy man - I mean he slowly learned how to speak again but at the beginning, my uncle even had to take him to the toilet and wipe his bottom. He was as helpless as a newborn baby.
After a few months he said to himself: I won’t spend my life in a wheelchair. So he went to a rehabilitation centre where he fought for the strength of his legs. It took him 2 years to learn how to walk again. He still limps. His brain works slower, too.
Well, after a few years of deep depression my dad met my mother. She was visiting her cousin in Germany, whose husband was one of my dad’s friends. They immediately fell for each other - he took her to an Italian restaurant in his red VW - my mom was so impressed because at this time normal people in the Philippines had no cars. They talked English and my mom told me that my dad had a terrible German accent. But he was gentle and sensitive, caring and funny so she couldn’t forget him back in the Philippines. And a few months after they had met for the first time, my mom decided to move to Germany to spend her life with him. Best decision ever, if you ask me.
However, my dad told me once that he fought because of this little thought:
What if I have my own family one day? What if I have kids? Who will teach them how to ride a bicycle?
I cried so much when he told me this.
Today, my dad is helpless again - not as helpless as after his accident, but he needs my mom. As his brain works much slower than the brains of healthy people, he is not able to work. My mom is the main earner in our family. I know that he hates it, it must be very hard for him, so he does little jobs at his friend’s garage (my dad was a mechatronic engineer). He is slowly turning into a mentally handicapped person. That makes me so sad. He forgets things easily, he stutters a lot. It hurts so much to watch my daddy get weaker and weaker.
I love my dad. Sometimes I think he doesn’t know that because we fight pretty often. We hardly get along. My mother always says: I can’t believe that you wanted to marry your dad when you were in kindergarten. In fact, people wouldn’t belive it. I’m a total bitch and I hate myself for being like this sometimes. I’m so impatient when I try to explain something to him and he doesn’t understand immediately. My dad often has to fight my bad temper.
Last Sunday I watched a German TV show. There was an old man who was left completely alone after the death of his wife and the death of his beloved dog. And I asked myself: What will happen to my dad if my mom dies? I know I shouldn’t think about stuff like this. I started to cry.
Well Dad, I know you will never read this but here is my apology. I want you to know that no matter what I say, I love you. I admire you for your love. I want to thank you for showing me how to ride a bicycle. And thanks for the bicycle tours to the ice cream parlor. I’m sorry for saying you’re a bad cook - you just shouldn’t experiment with spice, that’s all. I want to thank you for watching my sister and me riding horses when we were young. I’m sorry for all the dreams you had that will never come true and I’m sorry for saying that your dreams will never come true. I promise that one day - when the time is right - I will do anything to make your number 1 wish come true: seeing the world with mom.
When I was 3, you were my hero. When I was 6, you were my hero. When I was 13, you were my hero - you held my hand while I got a dental brace and after that, you told me I was still beautiful. When I had a car accident at 15, you were my hero. When I had financial problems at 18, you were my hero.
You’ll always be my hero.
*reader submission
