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Sunday, June 19, 2011

Like Father, Like Gay Son

I actually really miss Papa. He's been dead 22 years now and frankly, I wish he were still alive to see us achieve what we have achieved now.  I would've taken him to Berlin or London or Paris - settings of the novels he so loved to read.  He was actually the one who introduced us to Jason Bourne of the Bourne series of action novels.  I'm sure he would've really enjoyed watching Matt Damon be Jason Bourne - and since the setting of those stories were mainly in Europe, it would've been fantastic to go around Europe with him and retrace the steps of all the war spies and the Nazi criminals he was so fascinated with.  But of course, that is just a pipe dream.

I admit I was always jealous of some of my best friends in high school who were really close with their Dads.  I went to an all boys school and when I go to my friends' houses, I could see how they interacted with their fathers.  I rarely had those.  When I was in high school, Papa was already in another mining place in Mindanao and if he was home, we rarely talked, and even when he was there, he would prefer to read alone on his room.  I don't even remember having a conversation with him that lasted more than 10 minutes!  As a kid, yes, he did play with us, but as we grew older, I guess problems with his work made him more elusive to us - and I understand that perfectly now. It was not easy sending five kids to school in the 80s.  Even now, parents are still complaining how hard it is, I guess it was doubly harder during the time of the Marcoses when our country was politically unstable.

Anyhow, I wasn't too nice to Papa during my teenage years.  I can't quite pinpoint if it was just teenage rebellion or just my "leave me alone" phase.  I distinctly remember an uncle of mine who was shocked to see me just snub Papa when he was asking me about school in UP.  I was a freshman then.  At that time, when I was not in the mood to talk to anyone, I would just clam up and not talk.  I was comfortable with that and I could that for days on end.  It was like retreating to my own shell.  Of course, now, I know how hurtful that behavior is to the other person, and I guess it came with my own immaturity at that time.  At that time, I always felt Papa abandoned us and just left my domineering Mama run the show.  Since he was far away at work, the home atmosphere at that time was really tough, so much so that I had to create two people within myself.  One person who was cheerful and smart in school, and someone who was quiet and reserved at home. Mama was a very domineering person and a very strict parent.  Don't worry, we complained that to her years later and she said she had no choice.  Raising five teenage kids was not easy, so she had to be really tough on us, otherwise, we would've done drugs or some stupid things.  That went on for so many years that I didn't even want to talk to Papa.  I guess that was my childish way of getting back at him. 

Anyhow, funny thing is, as the years passed and since Papa died so young (49 - I'm already 40 now), I began to be more forgiving of him.  I actually have no baggage with him since my brothers and I really took turns taking care of him when he was dying of cancer in the hospital. I was actually the first one to wake up to find him dying.  It's a memory that is still very clear in my mind up to now.  I really thought I was ready for it (that's one of the nice things about having cancer - it gives everyone in the family time to accept the inevitable) but frankly, nothing prepares you for the final death scene.  It was five in the morning, and Papa waited for Mama's birthday before finally giving up.  It was the morning of the 6th of October 1989, and the night before, we celebrated Mama's birthday in the hospital ward.  You could really see that Papa was suffering for the past three months and just waited to say happy birthday to Mama before he died.  He just held on for that.  Now, isn't that romantic?  Up to now, it brings tears to my eyes, remembering that, even though we all knew he was such a playboy.  Actually now, I just think the women loved being with Papa.  I notice that now too, with me.  Women just come up to me and flirt, even if they know I was gay.  How much more Papa, who was as straight as an arrow! 

Papa was a very handsome young man.  I am fortunate to have pictures of him when he was 16 onwards. He dressed well. He was not baduy or jologs at all. You could see his confidence and demeanor even then.  No surprise we got that from him.  I asked his friends how he was as a person and they said he was a very jolly and talkative person.  People loved being with him since he always made everyone feel that they belonged.  That, I'm sure, we also got from him.  When Paul Smith was not even famous, Papa's clothes were already that chic and outrageous.  No wonder, I too was very confident in my choice of clothes, and I thought that came from the gay part of me. Apparently not.  The Fabe men were well dressed from head to toe.  The pictures from my paternal lolo, then Papa, then me and Vic, prove it.  We all loved to dress up.  As I said, baduy or jologs were not adjectives you'd associate with us.

The truth is, now that I'm forty, the only difference I think between Papa and me, is that he played for the straight team, and I played for the other team. Otherwise, I am definitely his Junior.  I do look better than him now than he was when he was forty.  Smoking and the pollution from the mining work he was doing was not too kind on his body.  But he was definitely more handsome and more confident than me when he was in his teens and his early 20s.  All the pictures of his life then has proven that.  Mama said he just loved to dance!  Now I know why, even though I'm forty, I still love to join those hiphop classes which are really meant for people half my age.  And really, I don't care. I just love to dance.  Because Papa loved to dance.

He also loved to read!  And I love to read. He was a party animal, I love partying up to now.  I'm sure he was a natural flirt, something which I can do if I'm in the mood.  Even my brother is shocked at how I flirt with women (I don't know that I'm flirting with them by the way), but he would say afterwards, "Oh my God, you're just like Papa!!"

I just really hope he's happy where he is now.  I guess he is.  He has not made anymore paramdams to us.  Mama always said that if he does that, that we have to offer a prayer for him. But it has been ages already. 

He was the kindest, most gentle man I have ever known.  He actually looked like Idi Amin in his late forties, which was good, according to Mama, since no one in our neighborhood in Cebu would dare harass us, since he really looked mean, but his heart was very kind and quiet and gentle.  I have never heard him say "Putang ina" or any mean words against us, his children, or to Mama.  Frankly, I am always shocked when I hear men say that.  Just shows that these guys have no breeding.  Kami kasi doberman eh, so.....Or maybe, their Dads were just kanto boys.  No Mercedes or Jaguar can hide that you're a kanto boy just by the way you talk.  Papa was never that type of person. 

He was also very smart.  His contemporaries would always say that to me.  Of course, where else would we get that, although Mama would always disagree!   If you go to the UP College of Engineering lobby, there is a marker there showing all the graduates of the college.  My maternal lolo is there, 1949 Mining Engineering.  Papa is there too, 1964, I think, Civil Engineering.  In a way, I was the third freaking generation in our family to be in that college.  Looking back now, I was the bad choice to do that.  Vic would've been more at home there.  Anyhow, past is past and no use looking back now.  We all have made our life choices and live with it.

Actually, one good thing that awaits me when I die is that I can get to see him again.  Of course, we won't know when that would be and its weird that I'm comforted by that fact.  Frankly, I just have so many things to tell him when that actually happens.  I want to say thank you to him for always respecting me and loving me as his son, no matter what.  I know maybe his friends ribbed him about me being effeminate or binabae at that time, but he never, never scolded me or chastised me or humiliated me for it.  Now, I meet a lot young gay men who had to run away from fathers and families who think they're worthless or unloveable or a shame to their families.  It must be very difficult to be in that situation where the man who is supposed to support you and nurture you as a person, hates you very much.  The consequences to that is just unthinkable!

Papa died when I was 18.  Not a very good time to lose a father.  Frankly, I had too many questions to ask him, and at that time, I just wanted him to be there.  He died when I was going through one of my worst semesters in UP.  He died during finals week.  There was no time to be very sad since Physics teachers and Chemistry teachers and Calculus teachers don't care if your Dad dies on finals week. If you fail the finals, chances are, you will fail the course, so again, I had to be two persons that week, the nothing terrible has happened person, and the grieving person on the other.  I had to deal with it, one problem at a time. 

In November of that year, Linda Ronstadt released an album, entitled, "Cry Like A Rainstorm, Howl Like the Wind" and the first song in that album was "Still Within the Sound of Your Voice".  That song and Linda's album helped me deal with Papa's death.  If you listen to her songs there, it's really shocking that several of them talked about death.  (Maybe not death, it's just that when the song says goodbye or something like that, to someone who just had someone die on him, that automatically means death.) That song, arranged with an orchestra, was my prayer to him everytime I wanted to talk to him.  These are some lyrics of the song -

If you're still within the sound of my voice
Why don't you let me know
I just can't let you go
If it's wrong then I have no choice
But to love you until
I no longer have the will
Are you still within the sound of my voice

Of course now, I realize that it's a lover's song but as a kid of 18 then who didn't even experience what romantic love is, the song took on another meaning - and with the sound of trumpets and the orchestra, it really meant like I wanted to reach out to him, from the dimension of the living to where he was. 

Well, we all deal with death our own way, and Linda Ronstadt's music really helped me grieve. 

We never celebrated Father's Day before.  I have no memories of it since it was not a popular holiday then.  But we were all by his side when he died.  We were able to say our goodbyes properly, even if it came too early for all of us.  We will meet again soon, Papa.

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