Dad

Anyone can be a father, but that doesn’t necessarily make them a dad. When I was just a kid, my parents brought me and my sister from England to America shortly before divorcing due to their differences. Growing up, I remember crying myself to sleep at night every night, wondering when my dad was going to come back. Every night I’d fall into a fitful sleep, wishing that I could just go home— back to the place where things were “normal” in my eyes. Sometimes he would call, but it was a rare occurrence and it only became less and less frequent until one day it just stopped altogether.

I still remember the night my sister and I came running into the living room when our mum had invited the man she was seeing over. We’d heard talking in the other room whilst we were supposed to be asleep so naturally, we’d jumped out of our beds thinking that our dad had finally come back. Instead, we found her with another man whom she quickly introduced to us, unsure of how to proceed. Despite our mum insisting for us to go back to bed, her date told her that it was okay and spent the rest of the night talking and getting to know us. After a couple of months of dating, my sister and I were begging her to marry him and surely enough, they married in March of 2003. We were lucky that fate had allowed us to pick him as our dad. I honestly can’t remember a time that we hadn’t called him dad— because he is and will always be— and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

As the years passed by, I won’t deny that I did a lot of bad things growing up. I made poor decisions and choices in life as a kid, though they also moulded me into who I am today. Despite everything, however, he never gave up on me or resented me for it. There were times that I cursed at him, told him he wasn’t my dad, and even said that I hated him. I can’t count the number of times I was an awful son, but there were only a couple that he’d said he gave up— that he was done trying. Through all of it, he never once told me that I wasn’t his son. He never said he hated me no matter how shitty I was to him. Even though he had said that he’d given up those couple times— he never did. It hurt worse than anything when he did say that though, because I realised in those moments that my actions had pushed him away. They say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone, but luckily I realised it while I still have him. It took me a while to realise just how great of a father he was, but luckily I’d come to appreciate him before it was too late. This is the man who taught me respect, discipline, work ethics, self-assertion, unconditional love, and forgiveness.

When I met my wife online she had a 2-year old daughter, Maddie, at the time. In our early stages of dating, she never imposed that Maddie and I should get along. The grave responsibility of being a father figure to someone else’s child disturbed her so much, she didn’t even know how to introduce me to her. We both knew what it was like to grow up with a broken family and at that time we were both in the process of moving on from bad relationships. My wife and I would video call each other every day as much as we could despite the time-zone apart. On those calls, I saw Maddie playing around, singing, or just peacefully sleeping beside her. It was normal to see her in the background during our calls, but then one day, Maddie just walked up to the phone camera calling me “Daddy”. From that moment on, I felt something inside me light up and that’s when I started to call her my daughter.

Seeing how happy she was during our playdates on video calls, I never wanted to take that joy and happiness from her. It's easy to get caught up in the moment and lose sight of the bigger picture. That was why I decided to take full accountability of not letting my own wants and desires take her mother away from her either. It was a huge responsibility she’d blessed me with and I definitely didn’t want to mess up. Deep inside I told myself, “This child has chosen me to be her dad. I have to be the best— she deserves nothing less.” As it turns out, Maddie made the best dad out of me and it was a natural bond between us. We would always talk, sing, and even play peek-a-boo on video calls for months and over that time we grew comfortable with each other. My wife didn’t have to choose between spending time with one or the other because we all spent our time together. We gradually learned to balance our time with each other to keep our priorities in check.

There are so many things I’ve realised with having Maddie in my life. My wife and I even joked a handful of times about how cute it would be if Maddie tripped over herself running to jump into my arms in her excitement while picking me up in the airport. We were all so excited for the day we would be united in the Philippines. Theyknowing are both Filipino and ironically enough, my dad is Filipino-American. He was excited for us too, telling us about the plans he’d already made with mum to go on a trip to see his father’s hometown in the Philippines since he has never been there before. I’d moved back to England when I was 18 so I totally understood where he was coming from. It made it all the better that he’d be coming to visit us too so that we can show him around and finally introduce him to his daughter-in-law and granddaughter personally. I spent nearly a year saving up money to move in them. We even got married online in September of 2021 in preparation for it. We’d become a couple on 20th of April 2021, and my plane ticket was booked 5 days before our first year anniversary.

The months flew by so fast and before we knew it, it was finally the day when I was to be united with them at long last. I was so excited upon my arrival, but I noticed Maddie wasn’t even approaching me when we finally met in person. The adjustment of talking from a virtual world versus real life had finally dawned on us. We had figured that Maddie was probably so overwhelmed by having me around in the flesh that she couldn’t even react to it. My wife started stressing, trying to get her to come near me and be comfortable with me, but I told her that I didn’t want to force or rush Maddie into it. During walks in the mall, Maddie wouldn’t even hold my hand or answer when I called her name. She would remove my hand from her or move away when I’d sit beside her. She would always run up to my wife and hold her hand.

That’s when I realized, how hard must it have been for my dad to adjust with me. How hard was he trying to be a good role model for me in his own ways? How much effort did he actually put into making himself a part of my life? I finally saw it full-circle. He had always been there for me— even when I didn’t deserve it. He never held any of my mistakes or misbehaviour against me. I see now, with my daughter, the patience and empathy that it takes for someone to own up to someone else’s responsibility— to be a part of her life. The understanding to wait for them to accept you when you thought they already had. Dealing with their outbursts as calmly and lovingly as you can without giving up the authority that a parent needs to nurture them. It’s easy to befriend a child, but it’s harder to raise them. And I really didn’t make it easy for my dad.

I had to be patient until Maddie was ready, and I still have to be patient— even now. There are times where I’ve slipped up and shouted at her in the midst of her tantrums. One time, I even took all of her books away to keep them from getting damaged because she’d thrown them in a rage. As soon as I did that, Maddie immediately ran up to my wife crying, telling her that, “D-d-daddy… took… stories…” Something pierced my heart hearing those words from a now 3-year old child. I quickly came up to her and apologised for my harsh actions and ever since that day I worked harder not to raise my voice anymore, being a better dad for her. Shouting doesn’t help— it just shows the child that whoever talks louder has more power, the same way that hitting a kid teaches them that violence is the answer to unjust behaviour.

Everyday, I teach her how to communicate her feelings, wants, and needs using her own words. When she throws herself on the ground, kicking and screaming, I pick her up and tell her that throwing tantrums doesn’t help— she has to use her words. Ever since I started doing that instead of raising my voice or slapping her hand, she stopped throwing them as much and started expressing herself more. We play at home, draw, colour, or read stories during weekdays, then we go out on a new adventures every weekend. My wife and I want to give her the best childhood memories she could possibly have. That was yet another reminder to me that my dad tried to do the same for me, and he succeeded. It just took me the first quarter of my life to realize it. Looking back though, I know for a fact that he loved and cared about me more than my biological father and that’s why I don’t think blood defines a family— love does.