A reflection from the past...the day I met my dad..

As I am traveling this time around, I realized that I have had to talk about my family, history, friends, all over and over again.  The day I met my dad always came up....as promised, here is that famous story again..

This is Eugenio "Gene" Miranda.....my dad..

Thought I would share…

As i said earlier on my blog, 2008 marks a new and different stage in my life.  For once, although comfortable with many aspects of my life, I  always felt the need to feel secure about my personal history and my past.  I wanted to learn more about my roots and 2008 began with my search for my biological father.

I started with no plan even to the day that I was heading to Manila.  I had no leads.  No pictures, no address, no phone numbers...just stories.  My mom and I never really talked about it but I guess it was more that I was questioning how genuine my feelings were about meeting him since  I have always asked myself "why should I look for someone who didn't look for me?"

Nevertheless, I wanted to know the truth of what happened.  I always wondered how different my life would have been if my parents decided to stay together?  how different would I be? where would I be living? Those questions lingered but I always believed that everything happen for a reason...and who and what we are is a true representation and manifestation of what we believe is important in life...after all..just like an old friend used to tell me...who are we to judge how one chooses how their life ends up to be when everyone is just out there trying to find and seek for what makes them genuinely happy......

So here it goes:

So Wednesday, the 6th of February.....I just got back from Boracay and heard word that my dad is now in town and rode a 24 hour bus from Leyte to Manila.  (My dad comes from a region where it was known to have killed the Spaniard (who first sailed around the world) Ferdinand Magellan. ..(hence the name for one of companies that manufactures GPS)..lol

 I was a bit tired and had a little misunderstanding with a relative of mine so I was in a daze and was craving to go out and dance my frustrations off..My aunt told me that he wanted to come over that same night so that we could sleep together and talk for two nights..I said it's better if he comes the next day. I wasn't still sure of how I was supposed to feel til that day.

The next day...he was finally coming.  It's around 11 and I just finished breakfast with my family (eggs, lots of bread, rice, and porridge...odd combination but very good)...I decided to take a shower and I heard a knock...'YOUR DAD IS HERE'

I took about 30 minutes, just sitting on my bed, thinking out loud as to how I am going to come out and what would be my very first words...I could hear them talking and I could hear his voice...I was getting nervous and I started having difficulty breathing.

Then I came out...I saw my dad with his cargo shorts (very popular with the Filipino men), and a white t shirt....his big eyes looking really tired staring at me as if its asking for forgiveness.  I couldn't say anything....and tears just started to roll out of our eyes and we hugged for about 15 minutes....tightly in silence with about 20 of our family members surrounding us..sobbing with us.  For that moment, it seems that all of us shared the same feeling and they felt my feelings of loss.  Can you imagine living for 30 years not knowing your own father?

I looked around and everyone was crying...for the last two weeks, all they saw was a happy ...daring..and very vocal Elizabeth....that was the first time they ever saw me express my emotions about my father..

My aunt told me to go to my room and take my dad..so that we could talk..

for the next two hours, we were surrounded by the sound of a noisy electric fan , a room with no windows lit with a small bulb illuminating from the restroom, and me and my dad sitting in the bed.

I asked him, "what happened"..as he held my hand...

His answer was a combination of hardship, poverty, hatred from my grandparents who wanted the best for their daughter, and guilt.  He told me that he love me and my mother very much but he didn't know what to do.  He's been wanting to see me but was afraid of rejection and was afraid that I might have so much resentment towards him...

I explained how happy and delighted I was to finally have met him. I explained how I understood how it must have been for him as a parent and that I could never be mad at him just by the simple fact that I have never met him and I simply just didn't know the truth.  I told him of stories of how many times I've wondered how nice it would have been if my dad took me to school just like the other little kids in grade school....or if i had a dad that would take me to the park or protect me when I'm being bullied by the boys...

Most importantly, I appreciate him and I thanked him for bringing me into this world.  It was tough but I have learned so much moral value because of this experience...

to be continued...

So now it's been two weeks and the memory is still fresh..after that intense conversation, we went out of the room to hang out with the rest of the family.  We both decided that we need to go back together and thank all the people that helped him get through the hardships.

So we took the afternoon and went to the neighborhood that I grew up in and said our thank you's.........it was a very nice feeling....

He was so tired from his 24 hour bus ride that he fell asleep early and I couldn't wake him up.  It was so weird because I didn't know what to do.  I was sort of expected to serve him as a dad and fix him dinner and wake him up and make sure he ate before bed, etc (I had a martha steward moment).

I went out with a friend that night and came back and fixed "papa" dinner (that's what he wanted me to call him). It was a long "silent" dinner....just the two of us.  Then we went to bed..and he held me all night crying...

The next morning was the day of my flight home to cali.  The same day I went to a couple of more people to bid my farewells with my papa.  Then we had a small dinner together with the whole family that same evening...

9 pm , friday.....he dropped me off the airport and he said "I am glad that we had the opportunity to finally meet after 30 years of being lost............we gave a long hug and he gave me a kiss goodbye....he was tearful once again.  "I will see you again and I want to meet my brothers and sisters"....

So what now?

On the plane, I had a lot to think about.  It was nice because I sat by a woman that resembled my grandmother and I played granddaughter on a 13 hour flight....making sure she was sleeping comfortably and making sure she ate all her food....I missed my grandparents when I saw her...

Now...I know who my biological father is.  What does this mean?  My aunt said I should look into getting him back to the states.  Is that what he wants? I certainly don't.  I have a Dad now.  All in all, I was content that I met him but it's amazing how experience and time can heal so many things.  If my Dad is reading this now I think he would be glad to know that although he's my stepfather....in my heart.....he is and will always be my Dad.  He means the world to me and my family...and I know he'll probably be worried that it may change the way I feel about him but in all honesty..I realized how much I love my dad for his love for family.

What's next?  Well at least I know what he looks like and where I come from.  It's very humbling.  My hopes is that I do get to see him again and meet my other sisters and brothers...but also spend some time with his sister (my aunt) and her kids..

So do I look like my Dad or my mom?

--
"...And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy."

written by Max Ehrmann in the 1920s