(Tribute to my beloved Dad's 28th Year Death Remembrance)
CONFESSION
This love story has been waiting to be published for years (like three years over-due in the oven). In fact, I have re-drafted it multiple times; though, the message never altered. It was "locked down" in thoughts for so long because the bread never came out ready ... 😃. "The baking struggle was real".
DOWN THE MEMORY LANE
"Why do we need to walk this far every morning if it only makes you feel winded (or "out of breath"), Dad?", the 7-year old me observed.
"I need to, anak (daughter)", Dad uttered each word in between his heavy breaths.
"But why do we have to? Please, Dad, let's just ask someone to buy the PANDESAL for us", I complained.
He smiled and touched my head, "Don't you worry, anak! You see, I really want to walk. I want to exercise my heart every day so I can spend more time with you".... 💓💓💓
MY LIFE WITHOU HIM
Those were the "fondest", "cheesy-iest"... yet, also, the "heaviest" childhood memories I have of Dad. His "heart" always disturbed me during my growing up years. It was like a ticking time bomb my little praying hands tried best to suppress for as long as I can. However, at a young age of 22, I lost him, just the same. I guess, that was simply how far my prayers could go.
Thus, his untimely demise was truly the "most heart-breaking" experience for me; but, it was also the ultimate "turning point" to my adulthood. After that loss, I swear I strove the hardest to serve justice to his lifetime -- no matter how short or fleeting it seemed to be. Somehow, I made a personal vow that "what I would become after losing him", would be the living proof of his entire life's legacy. His death, I said, would be my life compass.
So, whenever I see Pandesal, I remember "him" and my promise! But when my family migrated to the U.S, I hardly found bread rolls close to what I was used to (Pinoy cravings!). And with every frustration is a feeling of "homesickness" for my country ... and for those "loving years" with my father. Thus, for 3 years now, I got obsessed with all "Pandesal" recipes. But, I never came close to a success. "Just epic baking failures; one after the other".
Until I mused, that, just like Dad's morning gait, every struggle is a time well-spent. And every try can eventually lead to one's perfect serving... "Tiwala lang sa sarili hehehe".
So, here's the closest I can go ... my own "Pandesal" (which is, actually, more of a "monay". But what the heck? I got that familiar aroma I missed so long...)
Cravings fulfilled!)
Cheers to you, Dad,
Tatan
To my readers: Cheesy, huh?! But always remember that, with every childhood memory we honor, lies stories of a rich family tradition of love!
So, how 'bout you? What bread story do you have ;-)?
Beautiful story
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