My Father

there was a time where every night, time just crept in and i didn't know how to feel it at all. i'd get really upset. i'd start crying. a lot actually.

i know everyone's time is coming. i can feel it. soon.

it starts with my father. a heavy smoker, smoked all his life to get rid of stress. i'm not sure if it kept him happy but i know it kept him going. he gets sick sometimes and i get afraid. i warn him. he budges it off.

and then came the typhoon.

i don't know who in the world or universe or whatever faith or god you believe in, but they sent that typhoon on purpose. not because anyone wanted it. because it was a delay. a sign. words that never came out of its mouth. they knew to push things sideways first, for whatever great or bad outcome was waiting on the other side. and it played a huge role on my end.

there were arguments during and after. my dad and i got into it about taking my sister in because things were getting bad at their place. i didn't grasp it at the time. but he did. he loves all of us, more than he says. he took my sister in, got two flats, figured out how to get through three feet of flood, and when he came home i just high fived him. and in that moment i saw it. the hero in him. quiet, stubborn, always there.

we argued about water too. something small. i didn't like how he filtered it. and not even ten minutes later i apologized because i just knew. this is not the way things work. apologize. seize. learn.

time is ticking. on my end and his. no one knows how deep that goes.

i don't like when the words come out of my mouth about him leaving, about going home. he doesn't like it either. but it destroys me every time. like a little voice beside my ear reminding me that time is a ticking bomb for both of us.

but here's what you're not understanding.

my father is about to get deported for ten years. ten years. and i will never be able to get back everything i didn't take from him yet.

you're not understanding that he is an asset. to this family. to a lot of people.

you're not understanding that he is my father.

the father who doesn't listen. who doesn't care about a lot of things. who smokes, drinks redbull, works all his life, never escaping a never ending problem while others move forward and breathe easy.

people say things like, just leave if he doesn't give back what you put in. all input, no output.

but what i'm saying is i have one father. one. and i will forever give everything. i am the glue to a broken family. i am the one who will keep things together no matter how far or how broken things get. i will be the one crying when it's gone. i will be the one regretting at the very end of this story.

happy birthday dad and thank you for everything!

my father.