The father who stood by me; and
the father who left me wounded.

The Father accepted me as I am
With all my imperfections
the sound of my distorted laughter
the pain in my cries of mourning
the loudness of my pride in times of distress
the rudeness in my voice everytime I complain; and
the vile words I utter
in contradiction to His plans;
With all my inabilities
the faintness of my voice
when I want to fight for my truth
the shortness of my hands
when I reach out
the shallowness of my understanding
when He speaks to me
the weakness of my love,
and the cynicism in my faith
All these…
loving me still.

While this father that the Father gave me
as a gift became a pain
Instead of taking care of me
has broken me into bits of pieces
has shattered my dreams of completeness
has evoked incomparable hatred
has questioned my upbringing,
when in fact, I grew in his absence;
Instead of sheltering me
has left me in the open groping for love
has brought me so much shadows
haunting my childhood… my youth
has outlined my path with so much emptiness; and
has deprived me of the chance
the chance to love him despite of and in spite of
whatever difference there may exist in between
the chance to forgive him face to face
alive and breathing
not in a glass-covered casket
unresponding.

Yes! He left me
not just once or twice or thrice
but left me many times I can no longer remember;
yet I can vividly recall as loud as my cry
as clear as my tears welling from my eyes
that this time, when he left
there is no chance of returning; and
he carried with him my luggage
of hurt
of loathe
of grief
All these…
loving him still.