In his youth, he was the most gentlemanly of men. When his job allows him to have his wife's dream house,men in the neighborhood including his siblings, unashamedly, envied him.
But when years took toll on him even if his heart and mind refused to give in and give up his youth, each one of these began to chide him openly. He took all of these in strides. Yes, he did. But more than the years' toxins, it's the dent to his pride and manliness of a once glorious man of his career that makes the sag in his skin and the dim in his eyes show.
To me, who have seen his brilliance and youth, he remains the first man to have ever given me the idea what chivalry is all about. And that makes him the same young man in his heyday beyond that stooped body and slow walk. To me, he remains the first man I thought is the picture of what a husband and father is like.
Today, he celebrates his 63th birthday. I know that with his recent stressful bouts with mama and my not-so behaved siblings and sons-in-law, today is no better than his ordinary days. And what's worse, my critical financial status could not even help him feel any better.
But one day, I'd like to read this and my other poems to him when he can sit down with me and just eat his favorite meal in his favorite pants and suit.
No comments:
Post a Comment