Subscribe Twitter

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Dance With My Father

 
Whenever I hear the song, Dance with my Father, I can't stop my tears from falling. The Hubby, instead of consoling me, often ends up laughing because he thinks it's a drama he's seen over two dozen times.

But the truth is I've never danced with my father. Not on my 18th birthday, not even on my wedding day. Perhaps the only times when he danced with me were those nights he put me to sleep when I was a baby.

My Dad was a very simple and reserved man. Call him shy if you may. He's not the type who likes to be the center of attention, was not fond of dressing up and more than anything, hates formal types of parties. He prefers simple gatherings with only close family and friends, wear his favorite shirt and eat his comfort food of canned mackerel sautéed in garlic, onion and tomatoes, sarciadong itlog, friend rice and steaming hot coffee. Even when I worked in a hotel for over 3 years, my Dad went to dine at our outlet only once and that was after so much prodding from my Mom.

On my 18th birthday ball, he chose to stay in one corner and cry (for whatever reason, my Dad was very emotional when I turned 18) instead of doing The Waltz with me. Then weeks before my wedding day and before I could protest, he told me rather seriously to tell the program host to not ask him to dance or to deliver any speech.

Honestly, those were the very few times when I felt really hurt by my father. Up to this day, I still could not understand why he chose to be stubborn on those two important occasions of my life than make me happy.

So when I hear the song Dance With My Father, my heart breaks and I cry. No matter how many times I've heard it in the past, the same amount of pain floods in not only because I miss my Dad and this song reminds me of him but more because I am reminded of the chances that my Dad missed when he refused to dance with me. I weep for the 'would-have-been-great' moments I lost, to have my Dad sway with me in the middle of the dance floor and be nothing but the father I idolized.

Ironic as it seems that even as I claim that I was a 'Daddy's Girl', I never got to dance with my father. 

Sadly, I never will.

0 comments:

Post a Comment

Related Posts with Thumbnails