The small gestures of patting my head and shuffling my hair

The small touch when we do high fives as a sign of greeting

The small bonding times when we watch your favorite noon time show and laugh together

The small and random compliments that you say like how I am pretty because I look like you

The small and really corny jokes that you tell but I still laugh at them

The small pranks of copying what I do and say like how kids do

The small act of noticing really subtle changes in me on how I got fatter or have a fairer complexion

The small reminders if I brought my umbrella and to take care as I went to school

The small talks when you ask "how are you?" everytime I got home from school

The small acts of waking me up in the morning and cooking my food

The small things like still calling me "cutiepie" and "Patskie" even I'm already turning 20

The small acts
that shows your great love
The small things
but are the sweetest ones
You are the man with few words
But you never fail to show
your abundant love
In small gestures,
in small acts,
in small things
And for me it contributes the biggest on how proud I am
of the greatest dad I have

I think about him often
and on Father's Day, I dwell...
upon the things he gave to me
and taught me oh, so well.

I go back to those early years
when on my father's knee...
he'd give to me a special hug
and then he'd say to me:

"...life is what you make.
Don't look for special breaks.
Keep your chin up
when the world seems doomed,
for goodness sakes.

Always keep love in your heart.
on that you'll always count.
And when you do...well..
there's no obstacle you can't surmount.

You can be, all that you want
for you have that kind of power.
You're not as fragile, as it seems
though, I see you as a flower.

Do not be afraid to love
freely, with all your heart
I will protect you always
but you must also...
those times when we're apart

That day will come along
when my body falls apart.
And then, I must be moving on
but I'll remain forever...
within your heart!"

He left me in 2013
to go and be with God.
I knew he would someday
of course…
yet still, I find it odd...

that I can still recall his voice
from all those years ago.
And I'd just like to say that...
I listened, and I love him so!

My dad warns me telling me that alcoholism runs in the family.
I laugh and tell him not to worry because I hate the taste of alcohol.

It's true, I do.

The smell.
The burning.
The warmth.

But then again,

the numb feeling it gives you is undeniable.

Sometimes it feels like alcohol is the only way to not hurt.

But remember to make sure you drink a lot. Drinking only a little wont do you any good. The last thing you want is to be MORE emotional. As if you thought that was even possible.

Drink until you feel nothing.

Your hangover might be awful in the morning, but then again it can't be worse than how you felt before drinking, right?

I'm starting to think my dad is right in worrying.

Fourteen Years Old

They're fighting again. I can feel it.
She tells me to be careful.
He.... He says nothing.
and I'm not surprised
Why won't he say anything? Why won't he tell me? Doesn't he think I can handle it? Doesn't he think I'm strong enough? Old enough? Enough?
Just enough?
And then I start to wonder.

Is that why?
Because I'm not enough?
Or maybe I'm too much?
Didn't he want this?
Didn't he want me?*

Didn't he promise me forever?