The Reunion

As I walked to the train station, the cool Japanese spring wind against my face, inside me was a tangle of emotions. I came there determined to find my father. For a whole month, I searched incessantly. But when the time came that I finally found him and all I had to do was board a train to get to him. I�m suddenly having second thoughts.

Despite the chilling breeze my hands were all clammy and I was a little out of breath. It was probably just the weather, I thought to myself. I glanced at my watch. I had only 45 minutes left to get to Edogawa-ku, the place we were supposed to meet which was still two train rides away. I started to walk faster subjecting myself to the biting cold.

I tried to recall the exact moment when I last saw my father. I couldn�t... All I got was a jumble of random memories.

I didn�t know my father. He had been a big question mark in my life. In the years that we were still a family, if you could call it that, I barely saw him. He would come home to Manila every two months but I wouldn�t even feel that he was there. For me, his presence was just a sign that I would have great new toys and pretty dresses. It was not that he did not try to get close to me because he did. But unlike other kids, I didn�t feel at home in his arms or on his lap. Even then, he was a stranger to me. Being a child at that time, he was merely a person who went to our house once in while and provided for my material needs. Nothing more. I never really got to know him as a father in the true essence of the word. I would have wanted to though, had he given me a chance.

As I reached the Sumida-ku station, I was still trying to recall the day I last saw him. The day he left without the intention of ever returning. How I wish I could replay that scene in my mind so that I could see his face, the way he looked like. I wanted to see if there was even the faintest sign of hesitance on it. I wanted to see his reaction at the moment he looked at my face knowing that it might be the last time he would ever see me. I wanted to know if he was hurt.

I wanted to know because I wanted him to be. I wanted him to be hurt because he should.

Just like I did.

The painful fact that I was abandoned became all too real to me. I felt like I was torturing myself because I know that deep inside, I wanted him to be the one to look for me, to return to me, to remember that no matter what I�m still his daughter and he owed it to me to be my father. I pitied myself. Tears started to well up my eyes but I wiped them dry even before they could wet my cheeks. I promised myself I would not shed a single drop of tear. At least not in front of him.

When I reached his restaurant, a part of me wanted to run away and leave. A silent battle of whether to leave or proceed raged in my mind for a minute or so, a minute that to me seemed like forever. I drew in a deep breath and started walking towards the door. When I entered he was right at the entrance waiting for me. I felt numb. He came closer and hugged me tightly.

�I�m sorry��, he whispered softly.

It sounded so true and sincere. What I felt was something I didn�t expect. Instead of the uneasiness I felt as a child in his arms, at that time what I felt was comfort and relief. I was actually happy to see him and to be in his arms. It was a far cry from what I expected.

�I know��, I said,

It was all that I can say. All of a sudden it seemed like all the pain just vanished. For the first time I�ve felt that I really do love my father. That love was probably there from the beginning, it�s just that I�ve learned to ignore it. And I became so good at ignoring it that seemed it wasn�t there at all. And then it happened, the thing I vehemently promised myself I would not do.

A tear fell.

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