Father's Day

A lot of advertisements for Father's Day have been out since a month ago. Some featured June 12. Others featured June 20. After a bit of research I finally figured out that we celebrate Father's Day on the 3rd Sunday of June - so that would be June 20 of this year.
I will not be able to let this day pass without mixed feelings for my dad. He passed away in May of 1998. I had just come home from school and was staying at a friend's house. Someone called to tell me my dad had just had a stroke and was in the hospital. I forget now who called me; whether it was my mom or one of my brothers I don't recall. But that isn't important.
Dad was a lot of things to me. I saw 2 sides of him no one ever saw. One side, the father who was caring, loving, doting, who loved to spend afternoons in the bookstore, loved watching movies, loved classical and jazz, and who loved an early dinner at Mcdonald's or Shakey's or wherever I wanted to eat. The other side, obsessive compulsive with neatness and order and cleanliness, manipulative.
He was very lenient towards me - me and my stubborn ways. I hated him telling me what to do. I was very precise with what he wanted. He bought my clothes. Taught me how to fold them in crisp orderly fashion where the shirts were organized in colors and sizes, my pants all hanging on one side of my cabinet, my shoes lined up like soldiers. Everything had it's place as he would often tell me and would frown if he saw something out of place.
My mom spent the afternoons playing Mahjong with her friends so he says, 'he took the responsibility of teaching me everything I needed to know' He was dead serious about it. The biggest fights I ever had with him were always about my wardrobe. He generally let me have my way with food as I wasn't fond of eating back in the day unless I had Mcdonald's. He dictated what books I read, friends I should be with and who I needed to see and talk with - So I was a kid who was not too good with friends as I knew what he wanted but made my own all the same. So we go back to my wardrobe. Everything had to fit me perfectly. No loose clothes. No tight ones either. Everything had to be ironed right down to my house clothes. He couldn't stand me in wrinkly clothes. He couldn't even stand tiny holes or minute threads sticking out at the seams. Those had to be cut. My clothes starched. If my clothes had a chance - they probably would have stood on their own. If my pants were a bit long, then he had them tailored. My socks had to be a certain length; not too short and not too long either or he had me fold them. So there I was a teenager folding her socks like I was a 3 year old going to a party. How I hated it when he inspected what I wore and hated myself even more for feeling like a turd because I followed what he said all the same. He was even more obsessive compulsive about my underwear. What bra size I wore, what kind of panties. It stressed me to no end. It was not until college that he kind of gave up on me.
Another thing I kind of learned from him was how to do my homework, my projects and to this day, how I organize my files. He was meticulous when it came to filing. All his bills were filed and each had a folder of its own. No paper was out of place. Paper that stuck out was like an eyesore for him so he would line and cut the paper to the precisely desired size. Doing my homework with him could be a torment at times. Everytime I had a project where I needed to cut stuff or write, he always had to dictate how it should be. It would be years later when I learned to cut paper without first having a ruler and lining it. Now, I can cut without worrying about cutting outside the lines or that a mm. of paper would be sticking out. Needless to say all these was stressful.
But at least out of all the "training" I got, he and I were still able to enjoy each other's company. When we weren't arguing or rather when he didn't need to stress a certain point, we kind of enjoyed the movies together. Almost every afternoon during the summers would be rewarding for me. I didn't have to think about my chores, about fixing stamps (that was my dad's past time), didn't have to worry about cleaning and arranging my closets, didn't have to worry about scrubbing the floors or the walls of my room. Movie time was fun time - especially if he slept through the entire thing.
Another thing I enjoyed was when he would take me out for an early dinner. I wasn't fond of eating really. If I didn't see food I didn't look for it unlike now. He was always worried I wasn't getting enough to eat. I guess I never really gained weight when I was in school because of my studies and other activities. So we ate almost anywhere but especially liked Mcdonald's (I am sick of it now) or any place that served Chinese or Japanese food. Sometimes he would feel extra generous especially if I had really good grades and would spend about 1 thousand to 1.5 thousand pesos in a fine dining restaurant. This was back in the early 90's. So that amount was pretty big.
So much so for my interaction with my dad. He was very hands on in many ways. Too much of it in the later years made me uncomfortable really.
One thing he did right was to let me go and allow me to live on my own at 21. After years of being with him - it was kind of a relief to finally be on my own and decide what I wanted to be. No regrets on my part to this day. Much of his training paid off. I no longer fold my clothes in the fashion he wanted me to. But all other else - I keep organized in an unstressful fashion. My house is not a pigsty (and never will look like one) but it is inviting. A little of mess, no dirt (If I can help it) and just looks like a home of any single woman (won't be one soon hopefully so ahem ahem Tom).
So a Happy Father's Day to all the fathers out there. I could go on and on about a lot of things and would probably fill this whole blog spot with stories of him. But that will come in time.