Don’t die on me yet. I think back to when I just thought, “Oh, Dad has diabetes. No big deal, every Filipino father has it.” I was so wrong. In biology class, my teacher wouldn’t stop talking about how killer it is. I was about to cry, the entire block I looked down. People thought I was just upset over a stupid DBQ.
I asked my Mom how her day was, she said my Dad was in stage kidney failure. My Dad always looks so lively, he goes to the gym every day, drives to and fro, but even then that’s not enough. Every day he sits on the couch waiting for his blood test, his pressure. Fifteen minutes before and fifteen minutes after a meal, he gives himself a shot of insulin, his stomach is so purple I wonder how he sleeps at night. My Dad is so strong, and I cry over a flu shot.
There’s so many other families that have fallen apart without their dads, and others that grow stronger. But without my Dad no one would bring my brother’s to school, and make my Mom smile like she’s a teenager. I won’t be asking, “Hey Dad, how was your morning?” even though I already know the answer.
Dad, just stay strong. Stop telling me, “I’m dying. Forget about it.” It isn’t funny, no matter how much humor you use to make the pain more bearable. At least wait for me. Wait until I graduate, so you can send me off. Wait until I get married (and for you I’ll try my best to be married early), so you can walk me down the aisle and kiss me away. Wait until you hold your first grandchild. If anything, wait until I’m 18. It may not be possible, but I want to be the first candidate for your kidney donor.