The Day I Opened The Door

           Exactly 16 years ago from the most recent July 4^th, I freed myself of the hatred and disgust I had for my father’s “other woman.”  Ironically, that day was Independence Day.  I went to visit him at the Queen of Angels Hospital in Los Angeles, where he underwent an emergency quintuple bypass surgery.  Seeing my father on the hospital bed sparked a life-changing memory from the past.

            It has been the tradition in our family that as soon as you finish high school, you then go to college in the “big city.”  So in 1978, I started my journey to Manila to join my older siblings.  I was excited to be reunited with them after many years of living in the school convent’s dormitory.  However, after all the excitement, I soon found out that this move also marked the beginning of my “adulthood.”  This meant finding out the harsh truths about my family.  My three older siblings (Meldit, oldest sister; Bingo, older sister; and Dinky, older brother) had disclosed my father’s infidelity.  They said that it has been going on for at least 15 years.  I took a deep breath and cried incessantly.

            My once perfect image of my dad was beginning to yield colors of darkness.  However, my mind kept remembering those times when he would always pick me up as a little girl.  He would raise me as though flying through the air and catching me with his strong arms.  The warm embraces from my father when he came home from his out-of-town job were heartwarming and always made me feel secure.  I adored my father.

            The next years that passed by were full of anxiety whenever my father was around.  Even though I now knew his “secret,” I pretended to be oblivious so he could be the perfect father that I wanted him to be.  He gave me anything and everything I asked for.  Just one word and he would give me a new purse, new shoes, money to go out, and bring me wherever I wanted to go.  Even though I got older, he never mentioned anything about his infidelity.  Perhaps he knew that I knew, so he showered me with gifts and gave in to my every whim to cover up his guilt.

            Even though I took advantage of his guilt, he still had another woman.  He chose to live with this woman over my mother.  How could he have done that?  Oh how I hated that witch!  She was a home-wrecker and a selfish wretch.  I hoped that I never had to see her because I wouldn’t have known what I might have done out of my soul-deep hate for her.  Everyday I prayed for lightning to strike her dead or for a truck to run her over.

            I knew that my father was not the confrontational one.   Through the years, he would always meet with us and never the other way around.  There was never a chance for us to see him with the “witch.”  He made sure that we were protected from this scenario.  However, on July 4^th, 16 years ago, I had to visit him at the hospital. 

The day before, he was taken to the emergency room at Huntington Memorial in Pasadena because of chest pains.  After tests and scans, his cardiologist immediately admitted him for a bypass.  However, they had no staff that day because the nurses went on strike.  He had to be brought by ambulance to Queen of Angels Hospital in Los Angeles.  He underwent a successful quintuple bypass surgery.  When my sister, Meldit, told me about the whole incident, my whole body shook and I sobbed.

            I had to go see my father.  What if he did not survive the surgery?  I had not told him how much I love him.  I hadn’t told him, “Thank you for everything.”  But he was at the hospital and I had to see him now.  This meant the possibility of confronting the “other woman” face to face.

            But she was the home-wrecker.  She was the “witch”.  She was the selfish SOB.  She shouldn’t be in the picture.  She was the worst person ever in my life and I hoped I didn’t have to deal with her.

            Mixed emotions were running through me as I was walking through the lobby of the hospital.  My heart was racing and I could literally hear the gradually increasing beating of my heart.  I was nervous, excited, happy, angry, and anxious.  What if she was in the room?  What would I say?  Should I scream at her?  Should I go and beat her up?  Must I force my husband to go and hit her with my purse?

            As I opened the door to Room 25491, I became weak and almost fainted.  The room smelled of chemicals that made my head spin for a second.  It must have been from all the drugs that they gave my dad or emissions from all the equipment hooked on to him.  There was nobody in the room except for my father and this woman on my father’s bed.  Her back was facing me and she appeared to be feeding my father through a tiny opening on his mouth.  I walked towards my father without saying a word to the woman.  I kissed my father’s hand as his cheeks were strapped with gauze bandage. 

There was silence that seemed like an hour long, but in reality, it was just five seconds.  My father was holding on to my hand while this woman (I could now see her face) tried to give him a spoonful of soup.  In between servings, she would grab an alcohol-dampened washcloth and wipe my father’s arms and feet.  She would get a soft comb and run that through my father’s hair making sure no strand would go to his eyes.  My father squeezed my hand while he mustered a tablespoon of the soup.  After he was able to consume three tablespoons, he bravely uttered, “I would like you to meet Rosario.  She is the woman I love.”  I took a deep breath, looked at Rosario and just nodded my head. 

I never thought this day would come.  I asked to be excused.  I walked out of the room and ran to the restroom at the end of the hallway.  I cried incessantly.  He said he loved her.  She genuinely cared for my father.  I saw in Rosario’s ways that she truly and sincerely loved my father too.  “She is the woman I love.”  This was enough to make me realize that if I truly loved my father, I should also accept everything and everyone he loves, including Rosario.  I cried some more.

I went back to his room and as I opened the door, I saw Rosario’s face.  Tears flowed from my eyes as I looked through hers.  “Thank you,” was all I can say.  She was teary-eyed too and we hugged tightly.

My dad recovered in “record-breaking” speed.  His doctor told us that he had never seen any patient of his improve so fast.  Three weeks after his surgery, he was already back in his office.

The months and years that followed were marked with weekly dinners and frequent family parties.  In all of these, Rosario was present.  My relationship with my dad had become one of pure and sincere love for each other and I have learned to accept Rosario as “the woman that he loves.”  He eventually married her and she naturally became my stepmother.

Now, Rosario and I have developed a relationship that I never thought I could be capable:  one as friends.

Face to face with VINCENT MICHAEL TECHAIRA SALAS

In my brief interview with Vincent, he struck me as one kid who will not offend anybody even if his actions might be considered offensive by most.  It’s his personality of being cheerful and happy that convinced me that he must be a “confident in his own skin” person.  He is a self-pronounced gay person, and he is proud of that. 

Vincent is an 18 year old, full-time freshman.  Except for English, he attends all his other classes at Ventura College.  Though raised by his aunt and uncle, he considers them as his true parents (vs. biological).  He affectionately calls them Mom and Dad.  Vincent, through the guidance of his Mom and Dad, have grown to have deep family values.  Needless to say, Vincent’s driving force to succeed and do well in school is his parents.

He admitted that Beyonce was one person he admired.  What does he like about her?  It’s her determination and “don’t care what other people think” attitude.  Her focus on succeeding was a trait Vincent wanted to imbibe in himself.

Vincent is still undecided on what to major in college.  He foresees himself with a career in marketing, retailing or merchandising in the fashion industry.  He is leaning more towards a business degree.   With his attitude and determination, I am sure that he will attain his goals.

I asked him what three words would he describe himself.  “Respectful, fierce and fabulous,” is what he replied.  I couldn’t agree more.

Please text responsibly

In this ever growing technology, the telephone has evolved into the most effective way to communicate.  With your cellphone, you can virtually and literally do anything and everything - call, get online, check and send emails, play your favorite video game, video-chat with your family and of course, write and send text messages.
Texting has formed a whole new way of spelling words and forming sentences.  In some, I thought it was a whole different language.  The message sometimes become misunderstood or misinterpreted.  At most, the texting boom has corrupted the English language.

Another concern of mine is texting while driving.  I have seen people who have no consideration of their safety and that of others when they start texting while on the road.  So many accidents have been reported that were caused by texting while driving.  I think this is worse than driving drunk or asleep.

Nowadays though, texting has been the only form of communication which I get immediate response from my three sons, who are all at UCSB. They all have cellphones but there's always a reason why they will not answer nor return my calls. But if I send them a text message, it's not even two minutes and I get a response! For me, this is the only thing positive about texting.

The REAL score on TV

Reality TV shows have mushroomed into unbelievable proportions.  The themes have ranged from finding the love of your life (The Bachelor/Bachelorette) to changing lifestyles (Wife Swap) to changing lives (Extreme Makeover series).  There are shows that caught my interest but I must say that most of them disgust me in more ways than one (Jon & Kate, Kardashians, Jershey Shore, Real Housewives of OC/New York/New Jersey).

With the limited time I have for TV viewing, I am drawn to some reality shows that have positive messages.  Why do these shows have so much viewership?  I think the fact that we could identify easily with the characters and believe the emotions that are expressed make these shows interesting.  A lot of them go overboard though.

Among all the reality TV shows I have watched, I must applaud one though... "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition."  At the end of the show where they reveal the NEW house after a week, I always cry.  The look of joy, awe and happiness in those families were all real and spontaneous.  The message of hope is evident in every episode of this show.

Some shows have gone extreme though.  Vulgar scenes and obscene language are not appropriate for television where young people, especially young children, might be watching.  These shows may be causing some erosion in our society's moral values.  These TV shows could be considered as culprits to our cities' growing crime rates - rape, murder, robbery, prostitution, and the like.

As like any issue in our lives, the viewing of reality TV shows has its pros and cons.  It is up to us, the viewing public, to decide whether to make these shows affect our lives and how we live them... IT IS ALWAYS A CHOICE.