Friday, October 12, 2007 Weekend By Rene Lizada Papa's Table
I WAS in Manila last weekend because I was invited to give a talk to a national convention. It was a lot of fun because I got to learn many new things, met a lot of people, and enjoyed good food.
When I arrived in Manila I had a few hours to spare before going off to the Fontana Resort in Pampanga where the convention was to take place. I took those three hours to visit Miguel who teaches at the Ateneo de Manila.
It has been awhile since I last saw him and I really wanted to meet up with him if only for a few hours.
Our host took me to the Ateneo and I went straight to De la Costa Hall where the English department is located. As I was entering the hallway I saw Migoy in a green shirt. He was smiling his Migoy smile. He had not seen me yet.
As I entered the door, he saw me and embraced me. It was a tentative gesture but that is not surprising with Migoy. We talked for awhile but it was interrupted by some familiar faces in the faculty. I asked how my son was doing as a teacher and they all replied that he was doing okay, that he was having a lot of fun in his work.
Migoy showed me his cubicle, which I only saw from afar but I could see clearly the name printed: Mr. Miguel Lizada.
I handed him a bag of chocolates and some food. He took a peek at the goodies and said something like "ang dami naman nito." I smiled. Good old Migoy. After taking our leave I told him that I wanted to see his condominium. So off we went hiking from the green grounds of the Ateneo to the grey streets of Katipunan.
We took some side streets and after a ten-minute walk we reached the building of his unit. We went up four flights of stairs, which seemed like twenty due to the lack of exercise of yours truly.
He opened the door and he ushered me in. It was a rather simple flat really. A small kitchen that had a small refrigerator. A small stove, some plates, some glasses. He had a bed that seemed okay for his size, though it was unmade (which was not a surprise!)
Beside his bed was a bookcase given to him by his Uncle Bien Lumbera. (I mean not all people have bookcases given by a National Artist for Literature!) He had a wide array of books which I probably would not understand even if I tried to read them.
There were a few things beside his lamp, some Ateneo flaglets, painful remains of the Ateneo basketball campaign.
I looked around. I opened his ref, took a poke at the toilet, opened some cabinets.
This was where our eldest son lives. By himself. This is where he writes his essays and his lesson plans. This is where he checks papers and cooks food. This is where he sleeps and dreams of his future. This is where he may feel lonely because he is far from home. This is where he grows and matures into the person he is meant to be.
After looking around I asked him where he wanted to eat and we settled for pasta. We went to this place and ordered. I told him to order anything that he wanted. We settled down and we started talking.
I have to admit that it was rather strange for me talking to him like that. Here was my eldest son doing the thing that was denied of me. He was fulfilling my dream, the dream that I could not do because I had no choice then. And here he was.
I asked him how he was doing and he seemed to be okay judging from the way he was answering. Of course it was also uncomfortable and sometimes difficult for him especially that he had to budget his money and he had to find ways to really stretch out his salary.
I sat there awed by his strength because I never thought he could be this strong. I listened to his stories and I thought of the times that he was a frail kid who was afraid of the rain. And here he was.
I asked him about his classes and his teaching experiences and I was impressed by his creativity and his manner. I asked him what he wanted to do and he was clear in what he wanted for himself. I envied him because I never got the chance to do what he is doing.
After lunch he brought me to this chocolate place. It was actually an old house that served great chocolate in all varieties. Typical of me, I had coffee in a chocolate house while Migoy had a burst of chocolate. We continued talking about so many things. Family (Chona, Eps and Gabo), basketball, classes, friends, his escapades.
He was having the time of his life as he ought to have. We stayed for thirty minutes. Then we decided to go to a friend's coffee shop nearby. We were hoping she would be there and she was. We stayed for another twenty minutes talking and laughing. I fell asleep for awhile.
Then my phone beeped. My hosts were picking me up. So we left.
As we were walking to the meeting place I placed my hand on Miguel's shoulder as I often do when we walk. I had to lift my arm higher as he is taller than I am. I really did not want to leave yet because three hours was a little short.
I still wanted to talk, to listen. When we got to the car we hugged. I embraced him. My heart was quiet amidst the noise of Katipunan. I did not want look at his expression because if I did my heart would break.
My host called my name and I headed for the car. Slowly I turned around and I saw Miguel crossing the street inside the Ateneo de Manila. I stepped inside the car and for a few minutes I was chatting with my hosts. After we settled I turned and looked around. My heart was still as I was still.
And in moments like this I turn to the one person I trust with my life. Chona. I told her what I felt. She texted me back saying let him be, he is doing what he wants and he is happy. I stared at her text message knowing she was right.
As parents we try to do what is right for our children even if it means letting them go.
