stitched back together, with love

By Keilani Jasmin

I like to think of my Dad as a giant teddy bear. He’s big and strong, and his hugs are all encasing and warm like fresh pastries from a local bakery. You could sink into his embraces and find comfort in every single one.

Ultimately, I never really knew much about him. It was like he kept his past inside him as little messages embroidered in Build-A-Bear hearts, all kissed full of secrets and tears. I’d never dare undo his stitches and risk losing trust like stuffing without reason. But, this time I was emboldened by the sheer curiosity of something long left alone, the prospect of learning something connected to somebody that I love.

So when I say I never really knew much about my Dad, I mean that I thought my dad grew up in a completely different country than where he actually was born and raised. And so, with bated breath and a tiny seam ripper, I slowly learned of a vulnerable side and what once was hidden from my view.

The separation of my Dad’s parents came as a mystery. I had never really stopped and wondered until after my Mom made an offhand comment about their divorce one day. It was then I realized that my step-grandpa wasn’t my actual grandparent by blood. He was all the way in Guam — more than 9,500 miles away. What happened? Why did they part? Apparently, my dad was just as clueless.

Dad: “There’s nothing, I don’t know why. We just woke up one day and my mom is gone. She left somewhere.”

But according to my Mom, she left for another man. Why? They both don’t know. But his family was broken. The tapestry meticulously intertwined at every thread and stitch was torn and broken down—left for my Dad to pick up the tattered remains and make sense of how he could try to repair what stayed around. What didn’t go flying out the window, swept away by a voice better than who she had maybe once loved, cherished and treasured. So at the ripe age of 16, he started working.

Dad: “I had to step up, grow up really fast. So at 16, I started working already. Taking care of my 3 siblings. Started driving, taking care of my siblings, watching over my dad because obviously he was going down that dark road. Drinking, and stuff. So, I had to step up.”

This was news to me. Being so independent while still juggling school and a recently broken family was admirable.

Dad: “At that time? Hah, learning how to drive. Nobody taught me. So, I had to drive standard, or manual you could say, not automatic. So yeah [chuckles], that one and y’know, working, going to school. So yeah… full time work. No, not full time. At least 6 hours, five hours work here, going to school, weekends working… It was just me being a big brother.”

I had always known that he was such a hard worker. Coming home from working at the hospital stocking shelves of medical supplies for 8 hours, Dad works himself to the bone. He comes home at 2 in the morning and gets around 5 hours of sleep before waking up and driving me and my siblings to school. He’s always been caring like that.

It just never crossed my mind as to just how long he’s been put to work for the sake of his family. When I look at his palms so much bigger than mine, I have started to wonder what burdens they held, how many responsibilities stacked on top of one after the other he’s carried like a card tower. So ready to topple over at even the slightest mistake, the slightest brush of contact.

I care about my family a lot. My siblings I like to joke about how they're chaotic, loving menaces. My parents I like to appreciate and idolize, seeking comfort in the rare times their sayings resonate with me and pull me from underneath the rushing waters of doubt and frustration. I love them. I love them a lot. And I’ve realized I’d also be willing to do my absolute best to make them happy, and feel loved just like they make me feel.

Dad: "When I realized coming here to America, time owns you. That’s why everything’s all fast paced, it’s not laid back. Everything is about time."

I have always had too much time to think. Whether with subtle background music, or in the dead of the night tossing and turning in bed my mind runs rampant concerningly often. Thoughts can spiral. I know, I've experienced it before.

But it's these little things, in the way my dad's lips quirk into a slight frown whenever I'm cross with my siblings, or defiant against watching over them. When he subtly turns up the radio whenever I comment about how I recognize or like a song. Surprisingly for how much I look into and think about things I couldn't piece together what made him do this. Why he did what he did and what he went through that resulted in these small characteristics.

He drives us to school every morning on the weekdays. He always spends time with us at home on the weekends, instead of visiting his friends. He makes sure we travel together and never solo for safety. I speculate it's because he doesn't want his family to be torn apart and ripped at the seams. Edges fraying and material withering away.

Our little family's tapestry is still flowing free and filled with the utmost care and warmth. It's soft to the touch, color seeping through and casting a vibrant display of playfulness and jovial mirth. Adorned with sampaguitas from the islands and grape vines straight from our backyard, our piece on our family tree's mural shines bright with love. "I love you"'s are intertwined within every square inch, glowing radiantly between the fibers of carefully woven wool.

So what if there are warp threads hidden behind it, strung with slight underlying tension as thick as the built up grease on the gas stove we always use whenever we do barbecues together? So what if there are tiny almost unnoticeable stitches meticulously crafted by hand, nearby a small spool of thread and a needle with my dad's name on it?

I love my dad. I always have, and will never stop. Every night I kiss and hug my parents goodnight, every weekday I hug him goodbye when he goes to work. And if his stitches are anything to go by, he'd better be ready for a whole lot more.

Keilani: "What do you think makes him strong as a person now?"

Mom: “His love with his family, especially with his kids and wife. That’s me.”

Music Credits

Chill Night

Amine Maxwell & MICHAL

https://youtu.be/fpITRo-HV4E

Dreamy Piano Soft Sound Ambient Background

WinxingFoxMusic

https://pixabay.com/music/modern-classical-dreamy-piano-soft-sound-ambient-background-4049/