This New Generation….


“Dad, I’m in love with a boy who is far away from me. I am in Australia, and he lives in the UK. We met on a dating website, became friends on Facebook, had long chats on Whatsapp, he proposed to me on Skype and now we’ve had 2 months of relationship through Viber.  Dad, I need your blessings and good wishes…”

“Wow! Really!! Then get married on Twitter, have fun on Tango, buy your kids on Amazon and send them through Paypal. And if you are fed up with your husband….sell him on eBay.”

I love you, Dad. Happy Birthday

See this picture? It means a a lot to me. This picture is always on my bedside table as I sleep every night. The man beside that child on the roller coaster in that picture is my dad. Today is his birthday, and I wanted to share my favourite picture of the two of us.


My mom and dad have helped shape me into the young man I am today, and if my dad hadn’t worked graveyard shifts so he could spend quality time and play video games most day with me as a child, I wouldn’t be who I am right now. Why the video games? Also, you’ve probably wondered why I’m obsessed with The Legend Of Zelda.

The thing is, when I was younger, I was diagnosed with echolalia. In other words, I couldn’t exactly communicate or speak for myself without repeating what someone would voice out to me. Sometimes I would make noises instead of talking. I also had this bad hand problem to go along with it. My hands were so weak I could barely pick up a crayon. I couldn’t draw a picture or anything. My parents went to see a few specialist to get help for me. When the doctors told my parents to get me a toy that would help the muscles in my hands develop, my dad was the one who thought of buying a Nintendo 64 for me. The one game I just couldn’t put down was “The Legend Of Zelda: Ocarina Of Time”.

As a kid, all I knew was that I was this guy who would make random loud noises every time I would swing my sword in the game. But every time I played that game, my hands got better, and better, and better. During that time I was also attending a special needs pre-school to try and rid me of my echolalia. Going to that school mixed with the quality time playing video games throughout the day with my dad helped my verbal communication develop quickly.

Eventually I started speaking normally like any other kid. I think it was the fact that I was learning how to verbally ask my dad to help me out in certain parts of the game. I want to dedicate not only this picture, but also this day to my dad. Without any of his unconditional love as a parent alongside with my moms, I wouldn’t be anywhere close to being the guy I am today.

I love you, dad. Happy Birthday.

Photo of Christopher and Angel.  Written by Christopher for his dad, Angel.  Angel is my sibling #13, the baby in our family.

If this is not love, then what is?

When it comes to perfect love, I can only think of my Mother.  
Mother has so much love to share.  The story of Mother’s love is no different from others but in my mind, of course, is the best. 
Everybody calls her Mother: her siblings, my family and our friends. 
What kind of love did Mother shared?  These are collective stories shared by one generation to another generation. 
Mother gave up her own education in order to take care of her younger brother.  She reached Grade 4.  Why on earth would a young mind give up her future for a younger brother?  Don’t they have anybody to take care of my Uncle?  The family is rich, for one.  They can afford to hire a nursemaid.  But that is beside the point.  Mother took care of her brother. 
Mother married a soldier.  They had four children and their father died at a young age, cancer of the lungs.  Widowed young with four children.  Who would marry her now?  Who would take care of the children?  During those days, fathers are the one who is a provider.  Enter my Father. 
It was a whirl wind romance.  Father married Mother and he adopted all four children.  Mother must have been an extra ordinary person for Father to fall in love head over hills with Mother. 
Investigating how my parents met, I’ve asked my Uncles.  They didn’t even know that Mother married again.  No wedding pictures to show off.  
Father is a beautiful man, a woman’s man.  He must have been a good provider to my Mother because he was a Civil Engineer.  He travelled to remote places to build roads and bridges.  Being away from home, there must have been so much activity in the bedroom because they procreate 9 times.  In total, there are 13 of us including my half-brother and three half-sisters. 
On top of that, I heard there are other siblings outside the marriage.  Mother went through extremes of getting to know this family.  She helped them.  Why on earth would Mother do such a thing when Father was philandering outside the marriage? 
Then Father died.  We are left with Mother’s love. 
The love of Mother does not end there. 
When there are children born out of wed lock in our family, Mother will search for them and bring the children to the family.  I heard that Mother bought (yes, paid for) one child from the mother in order to bring up the child properly. 
The house we lived was only a two bedroom apartment.  People come and go.  My siblings’ friends call her Mama Chuchi.  It was full of life and love even though we were poor. 
Mother helped young women  by teaching them how to sew.  Mother paid for their work even though they lived in our tiny apartment and received free board and lodging.  It was a symbiotic relationship.  One remained with us until to this date.  We managed to take her to Canada and she is my 14th sibling.  She and I grew up together. 
I don’t recall hearing Mother say to me: “I love you, Lady”.  No. 
Words are not important for Mother.  She laid her life not just for me but for everyone.  Mother’s love is based on her faith. 
If this is not love, then what is? 
“No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”
Related link: Weekly Writing Challenge:  Love in the 21st Century

We have been told

No greather Love
 We have been told
We’ve seen his face
and heard his voice
alive in our hearts.
 Live in my love
I have seen his facewith all your heart
as the Father has loved me
so I have loved you.

Walk with me

I am the vine
you are the branches
And all who live in me
will bear great fruit.

Father's DayYou are my friends
if you keep my commands.
No longer slaves
I call you friends.

I love you
No greater love
is there than this
To lay down one’s life
for a friend.
You tube:  We have been told

DP: The Early Years – In my dreams

“Write page three of your autobiography” 
Chapter One – Where is Father? 
Page one:
Wednesday child is full of woe, so the saying goes, but life itself is full of woes. I was born on a Wednesday…. 
Page two:
What’s wrong with this baptismal picture?  Mother is carrying me, she is so beautiful…. Where is Father…? 
Page three:
The house I lived in Davao City, Philippines.  It’s a beautiful big house and darkness envelopes my little brain.  Dark and alone in the mezzanine, I was looking down at the wooden bars.  Can’t see what’s down below but I can see myself sitting on the wooden flooring.  A doll in my arm made of plastic and hairless.  One eye missing, the other eye closed as if it’s sleeping with long black lashes.  The arms are movable as well as the legs.  The head can turn 360 degrees around just like the head of the girl in horror show Exorcist.  It’s a hand me down doll from my other six sisters, I am the youngest amongst the girls.  Why am I alone in the dark?  Have I just woken up or am I sick?  Where is everybody, yet I silently sit in the dark, not a whimper came out from my innocent lips? 
Another image:  I was standing at the foot of the bed starring in excitement at this small baby lying in the middle of a humongous bed.  My youngest brother, he is Brother Number 6.  Brother 4 and Brother 5 were standing beside me.  I was suffering from a cold and mucous.  Being sick, I have to stay away from a newly born baby.  Mother does not want the baby to catch my colds.  A mucous started dripping from my nose.  I stuck my tongue out, curled it upwards and licked the slippery white substance to clean off the upper part of my lips.  It’s salty and thick. 
 Where is Father? 
  “Lady, I’m lonely.  Come and stay with me.”  Grandma asked.  I obeyed Grandma’s request for I was terrified of her.  I climbed into her coffin.  One of my legs is already in the coffin and Father showed up.  “Lady, go home.  Mother needs you.”  Then I woke up.  Father came to visit me, in my dream.