“I cannot t think of any need in childhood as strong as the need for a father’s protection,” so said Sigmund Freud, the famous psychologist. I strictly affirm to this. Literally. My father’s protection to our family on top of other else is the one deprived from me from the time of his demise when I was all of eighteen. Two thirds of my life now was and is spent without a father, but the one third of it with him was enough to bring fond memories in my lifetime.
I grew up in our hometown with a sense of security because I have a father who did not only provide protection to us his family but in whose job was literally to provide protection to the entire citizenry of our small idyllic town. It was literally so because he served as the Chief of Police in our hometown and would have took job promotions by serving as the Station Commander to about five or more neighboring towns including our own and another stint as Chief of Police to a bigger and busier municipality next to ours.
My fondest memories of him is one with him standing tall in his police uniform, handsome, dignified, an officer and a gentleman and people looking up to him with respect. Being her daughter, I stood tall too for having him as my father. He had this strict aura and demeanor in him, but when it comes to us his children he turned entirely into a sweet thing.
He took pride in everything that we did. I don’t remember an instance that he pushed us to achieve more that what we can offer at any given moment. Take for instance during my high school, when my other siblings studying in the same school always brought home academic honors while I did not. With my obvious academic shortcomings notwithstanding, I did not heard him uttered words that would caused me to be insecure with my other siblings in this area. What I may lacked in terms of giving him pride from garnering academic honors, I would make up by taking center stage in oratorical and declamation contests and I could see that these would delight him immensely.
While oftentimes I would be regarded as a pain in the neck to my mother and siblings for being outspoken, he would take the matter in stride and would allow mom to settle things by her own.
When any one of us his children would be down with illness, he would see to it that there would be no overtime work for him and he would never compromised us on that aspect.
We lived modestly but comfortably enough. That would mean that although we may have been sent to good schools and there was always enough good food on the table, we knew quite well there wasn’t enough for luxury and leisure. However, dad made sure Christmas is one occasion that we would have good memories with. There was this huge piggy bank at home which he would by the start of the calendar year put coins to everyday such that by the time Christmas came, he would break it which by that time had accumulated enough money already. He then used the money to treat us to a holiday in the city. This he did not miss from the time he started doing it when we were still small until the time ailment succumbed him.
As I am writing this and tried to reminisce the memories long gone, I could say he was certainly the father any daughter or son would have wanted to have. Sometime during my youth I would have taken that fact for granted, until a playmate or friend would just suddenly comment how lucky of me to have a father like him. See, I never flaunted the kind of close relationship I had with my father and neither my siblings did, yet, it occurred to me that it just showed naturally to elicit a comment from my playmates.
My dad died of a lingering kidney failure. On his sick bed, he talked to me in whisper if I could offer him one of my kidneys if my older brother’s will not be compatible.
He did not live long enough to receive it.
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