Pops

An FB friend posted how she was spending quality time with her dad. How her dad scolded her for taking a picture of the food they were about to have for breakfast.

I was envious. I will always be envious of people who still have that time to be with their father. To argue with, to talk with, to whine to, to complain to.

I didn't get that chance. My father went too soon. Now, I only get to talk to him in my head. And I seldom do so because every time I think of him, talk to him, I become a melting goo. 

Sometimes, I wonder if he would like the person I grew up into. Is he proud of me? I'll never know. What I know is I would surely be a different person than I am now had he been around. 

I miss him. There are times in my life that I badly wished him back. Because no matter how old I become, I"ll always need my papa. Always. 

Every now and then, I stumble upon people who can't wait to get rid of their fathers. I had a classmate in high school who went to the trouble of telling anyone who would listen that his father died leaving him an heir to a farmland in Davao. Then, a man came to school to talk to the principal and teachers about his declining performance and interest in academics. That was his father. 

I wanted to strangle him. How dare he? I kept wishing my papa was still alive to give me hell about school and boys and everything else that comes with a father's love and protection.  And he conveniently 'killed' his. I hated him for doing that.

It is indeed true that some people never   appreciates a person or a thing unless they're  forever out of their grasp, nothing but memories left. And memories are not quite enough. We just make do with what's not enough because it's the only one we have.