MOVING ON

I've written many times about my bad memories as well as the good ones I've collected on my late Father, who was not exactly the ideal one (at least, not even one of those types you read on stereotyped characterizations of fathers). I'm grateful he and I had managed to deliberately patch many of the issues we had on each other before he passed on in late 2006. It is an understatement to say that I've learned so much from these really bad experiences with my late Father. I'm just shaking my head over postings I've been reading from relatives and friends who have been expressing their salutations to their fathers on Father's Day . I'm really, genuinely, very happy for them. In my case, I know I won't be able to say something really similar to my late Father. I'll leave it at that, and I'm grateful that my father was very instrumental in turning me into someone I am right now. I would not take it any other way, or I'll be dishonest with my

Something similar to what is described below happened in the past few days to someone I know. I'll just be sharing a different narrative to put some kind of heavy drapes to cover the actual identities of those involved. The experience is still so fresh as of this writing. And I know I'll be gaining more wisdom from having learned much about one of these relationships that happen every now and then in our respective lives, the narrative just changes depending on individual circumstances. I'm slowly gaining back my sense of humor and beginning to laugh again at myself. But days ago, I was almost in deep depression. I couldn't accept the fact that I was being dumped by someone who I thought would be an excellent lover for a long time coming, considering the space we've allowed ourselves to meet up with others while we continue being more than lovers. I was probably taking him for granted, and was sending all the wrong signals to him the past 3 years that we've kn

While on the ferry to Manhattan, I browsed into my Facebook profile on my celfone, and curiously read a status update from one of my friends about what she wants to share online these days. She mentioned about "Kyle," who has turned grade 2 in school now, and has remarked about how time flies so fleetingly fast, without us even becoming aware of it. The bright upbeat of this day, and the breezy wind plus the movement of the waves against the ferry have got my mind into pondering. How could it be that I've not met this "Kyle" up to now that he's most probably 9 years old as indicated by his Mom's message? Then it dawned on me in a bright sparkle of a thought that he's actually my nephew, as I got myself reminded of this fact, he being the son of one of my brothers, in a former relationship. I think I can not take it against my friend, just like most Moms, if she would be always championing for her son, Kyle, who I just said happens to be my nephew. I