Dear eldest children, it’s not your fault for knowing too much while being too young. While I salute most of you for being the street smart of the group or the wiseman with all the words of wisdom up your sleeve, I believe that many of you are still a child inside.
I get it, some kids grew up with father figures, and it is an unfortunate case that others end up figuring things out on their own.
Most of my friends grew up without a father, too. Physically, emotionally, and financially. They didn’t have the father to teach them how to ride a bike; they didn’t have the father who would carry them, put them up on their shoulders, and run near the riverside like there was no tomorrow; they didn’t have the father who would pay the bills every time they go out.
So, I know how hard it is to have no father figure — to act like a pillar of a house you didn’t even build, let alone, didn’t even wish to have.
You had to be the “second parent” when no father was present. And you always be the right-hand man because no father was around to take charge and be the 'man of the house.'
That’s why I also know how hard it is for one, with no experience, to figure out how to assemble a personal computer once it goes blue screen or disassemble an electric fan once it makes unusual noises. These things are, stereotypically, tasks and jobs of a man, particularly, a father. Yet, eldest children somehow learn these things anyway, out of the need or the force, because there is no one really there around to ask.
Despite all the applause and praise of how you’re so mature, I still believe that underneath all the maturity you carry, there’s still that carefree child buried in the rubbles of responsibilities. I can only imagine the difficulty of wearing shoes several sizes too big for your feet.
What nonsense it is for a 12-year-old child to walk around in father’s size 12 shoes.
Yes, you're brave for learning how to walk in your father's shoes. But I hope you never forget that those shoes were never meant for you to wear in the first place. A part of you still deserves to run barefoot, to be carefree, to be young, and to simply be a child.
If you're tired, angry, or left grieving for the childhood you never got to live, your feelings are valid. You have been deprived of the freedom every kid wishes to have. You have been taken away a privilege to live like yourself and live to fill a void left by a father who failed to stay.
So, what if you’re older now? There’s still that open scar of what if: What life would've been like if you had a “daddy” to lean on instead of becoming the one everyone leaned on. What if you lived like a kid like everyone else did?
And maybe that's the tragedy of it, where the world looked at you and saw strength; it saw maturity and responsibility in your innocent and juvenile skin.
Yet rarely did it stop to ask what it cost you to become those things. Rarely did it acknowledge that before you became everyone's father figure. You were just a child trying, crying, and surviving.
You did so well being a father to your siblings. And to yourself as well. With all that said and done, I think you also deserve to be greeted: Happy Father’s Day.
