The Art of Changemaking

Father’s Day always gives me something to feel extremely sentimental about, as it reminds me of my very unusual childhood and of the soap opera-ish circumstances that have come to define our family. In spite of all that, I am happy to be who I am and proud of where I came from, so this post is a tribute to the FOUR DADS (yes, not one; not two; not three; but FOUR) who have helped shape me into who I am now.

To the man who gave me his genes–to the man I will never come to know, THANK YOU for seeming to be a great guy with a great passion for learning, coaching others, developing people, and expressing one’s creativity. Although I never got your English accent, I seem to have gotten enough of you to appreciate Austen and High Tea; to want to travel the world and make my mark wherever I land; to write and send out cards and connect to people from everywhere; and to keep pushing myself and my boundaries and see how far I can go. Circumstance and Fate have declared that we shall never meet, but I take comfort in knowing that, halfway around the world, there’s someone out there who’s doing wonderful things and he happens to be a part of me.

To the man who welcomed me into this world and taught me how to fly, my Lolo, THANK YOU for being my father during those first few

months of life when I had none. Thank you for letting me crawl into your room as you were reading your precious books and your stash of National Geographic and teaching me the importance of reading and learning. Thank you for all those postcards and birthday cards and typewritten letters that you had sent me, because they opened me up to the gift of heartfelt words and to the joys of receiving letters from the mailman. Thank you for your huge, clackety-clack typewriter that first got me hooked to the sound of words being created on a page; I am still looking for that one perfect vintage typewriter to bring home that will remind me of yours. Thank you for teaching me how to fish; at least I can tell people that I truly now how to hook some live bait. Thank you for that great time we had in L.A. when I was four, and thank you for always singing Eidelweiss to calm me down. You were every bit my father as well as my grandfather, and I have learned so much from you about what it takes to be a man.

More than that, Lolo, THANK YOU for being my angel up there in heaven. I never really cried when you left us because I knew that you would always be with me, and you still are. When I dream of flying and falling, you are always there to catch me. That time when you appeared in my dreams to dance with me and tell me that I had “to fulfill a mission” for you, I never really understood what you were trying to tell me–until now. You were a commanding presence in my life while I was growing up, and to this day I feel your love and wisdom guiding me. I will carry on what you had asked me to do and make you proud.

To the man who welcomed me into his family and became not only a father-in-law, but also a friend and confidant, THANK YOU for the love, generosity, support, and encouragement that you had shown me all these years. They say that there is always something special about the father-daughter bond, and I am grateful that you have extended that bond to me, too. You accepted and welcomed me for who I was and who I still am, and I feel no need to hide anything or pretend to be someone I’m not when you’re around.

Now that I’m a part of your family and am carrying your name, please know that I consider this to be a gift–something that I will take care of and nurture and never take for granted. We may have taken different sides in the past–the passionately political creatures that we both are–but you never imposed your views on me and have always encouraged me to do well. This is something that I will continue to do not only for myself but also for you and for our country, because you have shown us how much you really want to help and serve the people, and THIS I truly treasure.

I look forward to more days and years with you, and I hope to someday add to our crazy colorful bunch and raise a family that we all will be proud of.

And, last but definitely not least: to the father who raised me and gave me his name, my one and only Dad.

I don’t have too many photos displayed at my place, but for some strange reason, I have THIS–and it’s the only photo I have of my immediate family. It’s such a telling photo–me looking scared and unsure and just about to break into tears, and my dad right there behind me, telling me it’s going to be okay. It’s a memory and a feeling that I will always treasure, because, certainly, life hasn’t been easy at all, and reassurance and security have been wanting. Now I’m glad that, of all the photos I could possibly have swiped from my childhood, I have this one.

Dearest, dearest Dad. I have way too many fond memories of you to list here, but possibly the winner in my book was of you and me at the Ateneo Covered Courts, almost exactly 15 years ago (yes, it was that long ago!), you holding an umbrella on one hand and a Gatorade on the other, cheering your head off as I was trying to slam my opponent at a Judo match. I was never an athlete and never really the physical type, but during that time when I decided that I wanted to try out something new and go all out at a tournament, you were the only one with me.

I have to admit: I think I won precisely because you were there–because I wanted so much to show you that I had what it took to be strong and to win something that would mean something to both of us. I was always the lampa kid–the one you had to nurse for motion sickness and asthma (and my HUGE eyeglasses) and whatever else it was that always required medical attention when I was growing up–but during all of those times when I was weak and needed support, you were there. I wanted to show you that, now that I had grown up, I could be strong and brave and win something, too (like Ena). You were always a motivating factor for my independence, even (or especially) during those times when we’d yell our heads off at each other because we disagreed on our political views.

So, now that I’m a bit more grown up and perhaps even feistier and gutsier than I used to be, I want to THANK YOU for having given me the foundation and the pillars on which to stand. You gave me a name and a family that I came to be proud of; you taught me everything I needed to know about boys and what REALLY went on in their heads; you gave me my independence at an early age and you were there for me when I needed you anyway. And although times have changed and our lives have now gone on their completely separate ways, know that I love you with all my heart and am proud to be YOUR daughter.

I hope that, someday in the not too far-off future, we can once again enjoy a night of great conversation, great wine, and some Marley and Santana.

–

P.S. Not everyone can say that they have more than one dad and are happy about it. I have FOUR, and I love them all equally and in their own special way. I thank God and the Universe for this tremendous gift of love.