Falls Church, VA
I’ve completely forgot about this blog until recently and I’ve decided to restart it in hopes that my son would be able to read this in the future. Something he can look back to about his father’s struggles and love.
I am the dad of the most wonderful human being I have ever met.
113 days ago a deluge of events that swept my bearings away has led me to who I am and where I stand today.
Chain smoking American Spirits as I was walk endlessly around my neighborhood was a painfully familiar feeling. With every step I had wished, I had hoped, I had prayed that it was all just a nightmare. I’ve never wanted to turn back time as much as I did then.
I was aimlessly backtracking every thing that I have ever done, trying to dissect every choice and every decision I have ever made that could’ve changed the way things were. I wasn’t just lost, I was… gone. A gaping void formed in my core that ate me up from the inside out. I could audibly hear my heart breaking. That sound was haunting and I constantly heard mine deteriorating. Death would’ve been a relief. I had a bullet with my name on it and at that time I would’ve gladly rid this planet of another shitty person. The weight of not knowing where it went wrong and how far back did it start going awry was a burden that pressed on me every chance it had. I could only blame myself for being abandoned.
I recall what she had told me from our first break up: “I don’t love you anymore” “I don’t see a future with you” as she looked me dead in my eyes while I was on my knees in the middle of a busy path in Alki Beach. That stinging feeling is something that will always be embedded within the confines of my soul. I had no one else to direct the blame nor was there anyone else responsible for how I was. But I’ll be lying if I said that wasn’t the catalyst for the wall I’ve slowly built between me and Her. For as long as I can remember now, the words “I’m not going to beg for you again” would always come out when we would argue. Now THAT was a lie. Because begging for Her back, for my family back, was the first thing I did when this happened.
I was fumbling to dial my dad and tell him that they’re gone. I choked as I was finding the words to tell him that not only had I lost the only person I’ve truly loved for 15 years but I’ve also lost his grandson.
She left on March 22, 2022. She said She was done and She was going to her cousins that lived 15 minutes away. Little did I know She had already purchased tickets to WA for Her and my son the day before. I had to leave the fucking apartment when I found out. The same apartment we’ve been for years, the same apartment where we started a family, the same apartment where my son learned to walk, and the same four fucking walls with memories in every corner were closing in on me. I don’t have claustrophobia but I would imagine thats how it felt. I was suffocating. I had to talk to someone. To anyone. I went to my sister. I broke down as I told Amani how my reasons for existing is gone. How I singlehandedly sabotaged the very thing that is most valuable to me.
Ezra, I wouldn’t be here right now writing this without your Lolo, Lola, Titos, and Titas.
I could not have asked for a better family than the one I was born into. I’ve also been fortunate enough to have crossed paths with my friends that have supported me throughout this ordeal. They we’re constantly reminding me that I was needed, that I was valued, that I matter. I couldn’t comprehend that. Not at that time. I couldn’t accept that I was anything other than pathetic for losing my family. But what gave me courage to keep on going was them telling me that I can not give up. I can not give up because if I do, I’m giving up on not just myself and them… but on you. And that is something that will never happen son. I will never give up being your dad.
Amani helped me find a plane ticket to fly there on March 24, 2022. I booked a motel in Fife from the same branch that I had stayed in aeons ago when I went to WA for the first time to see Her.
October 26, 2007 was when I first met Ezra’s mom. I still vaguely remember how excited I was flying to SeaTac. That feeling is now long gone. As I sat staring outside the plane window, restlessness, resentment, and longing was gnawing at me. I got there late from what seemed like a never ending flight and took an Uber to Tacoma. “Whatever happens, it will always work out.” I held on to my Uber driver’s words as I sit on the same step on the same stairs as I did back in May 2012.
Kuya and Papa saw me outside. Same way they did back in 2012 during our first breakup. She didn’t reply to any of my messages but still I waited for 3 hours until Kuya went back outside. He offered to give me a ride to the motel to rest and sleep. He was right. I couldn’t let my son see me at my current state. That’s not the kind of person I wanted him to see me as. After more cigarettes and a meaningful conversation with Kuya I finally retired to the motel. I couldnt tell if it was the room that reeked of nicotine and despair or if it was me.
I woke up while the sun was still down. Hopped in the shower in a surprisingly clean motel bathroom. I wondered if it would shine like the Milky Way if I used a black light. I shrugged the thought of being in a murder scene as a dried myself off and hurriedly walked to the gas station close by to grab some coffee; God knows I needed it. I called for an Uber and impatiently waited as I go through stick after stick of these damn cigarettes.
Ezra was already awake when I got there. With the same big smile that can brighten the darkest of my days, he said: “Daddy! do you want to see my toys?!!” as he grabbed my hand and showed me his collection of dinosaur figures. My son can wash away any grief and any shadow of doubt that I had or will ever have. He’s my home.
Ezra, ikaw ang mundo ko.