In The Still Of The Night

When everyone has gone to bed -- hubby snoring his heart out, Josh snuggled under his blanket and Dash looking like the most behaved angel in the whole universe -- I sometimes just lay in bed under the covers and ponder on things. I think about life in general, my life, my children's future, the what if's and why not's. Then I find myself in tears. I recall my childhood memories, how simple life was back then. I think of Dad -- how I was always his little princess. I think about Mom -- how she was always my best friend. I remember the pain and anger I caused my parents. I look at my husband -- I can't help but be thankful for his presence in my life, how I was given a new reason to wake up each morning knowing that for the rest of my life I will have someone to love and take care of, argue, debate and fight with. I stare at my children's faces and can't help but be amazed and stand in awe of the miracle of life -- did this tiny bean really grow in my womb for 9 months?
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I think of Dad -- and I cry. I remember how his drinking problem became a very big part of my mom's and my life. I remember when I was 5 or 6 years old and my Dad came home drunk as usual, my Mom looked so desperate and exasperated and I hugged my Mom and told her, "just smile Ma." My Dad had a lot of hurts, frustrations, anger and bitterness in him. Being the artist and writer that he was, he was a man of few words -- when he was sober. He turned to alcohol as an outlet to sharpen his tongue. But he was a good man. All of his actions were out of the goodness of his heart. He was a very misunderstood man. Often thought of to be a drunk with no other purpose and sense in this world. But I loved my Dad dearly. He always wanted the best for me. I tried to understand him when I was growing up but I guess I only got to fully comprehend all these when he had gone -- gone on to the Great Newsroom in Heaven -- where his talent, skills and love for writing would be truly appreciated.
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My grandfather, Sinai C. Hamada was born a writer. He published a book of a collection of his short stories and poems. He was recognized as a great writer in our country. After graduating from Law School and passing the bar exams as the 11th placer, he came back to our hometown Baguio City and set up his own Newspaper. Here my Dad grew up together with his 5 other siblings -- exposed to the smell of the printing press and the life of a newsman. He went off to college after which he came back to Baguio and worked with my grandfather at the Baguio Midland Courier. He was a good newsman, never giving in to political bribes -- he spoke the truth. After a few years, the older brother of my grandfather Sinai, out of sheer greed, heartlessly grabbed the Midland Courier from our family. A lot of hurt, pain and anger grew in my Dad's heart.
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I remember on December 22, 2003, my wedding day, my Dad walked me down the aisle to the song of Butterfly Kisses. As he was standing there waiting for me to lock my arm around his arm, he looked at me. He gave me a half smile and then my tears just started to fall. I walked down the aisle crying and when it was time for my Dad to "give me away" I hugged him sooo tightly knowing that in a few moments, my Dad would have to share me with another man. The man my Dad would trust my life to for the years to come.
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In the still of the night.