The Joy of Giving (in)

Today is another Sunday and I am reminded of the first Sunday of this month when my family deviated from our Sunday routine. Just like what happened in my blog the previous Sunday when we attended mass in a new church, we went to the Cathedral instead of the usual chapel inside the village.

It was quite a big deal for me because it was my father’s insistence on having his haircut that morning that led us to the Cathedral at the heart of the city. A haircut when in fact he just had it a couple of weeks ago and his white hair had not grown that much anyway (well at least in my opinion).

My father had been living with us for a few months now ever since he suffered an asthma attack. An earlier mild stroke that left him limping on his right leg did not force him to change the routine he had for years. He was resolute in living alone in his house at the center of the city to enjoy all the freedom he’s been accustomed to.

It all changed one morning as he went about supervising a small project at the third floor of his property. According to him, he already felt heaviness in his breathing as early as eight o’clock but only decided to seek assistance from one of his tenants a couple of hours later. Instead of going straight to the hospital less than one kilometer away, he instructed the tenant to bring him to my house, which is a good 15-20 minutes drive from his house.

My initial reaction was to rebuke him about his decision to come all the way to my house at the other side of town only to take him back to the hospital close to his house. But I later realized that my father was afraid and just needed me to be there for him. Moreover, he must have felt that there was no way to contact me as he already tried desperately to call the whole morning but to no avail (I imagine panic must have contributed to this).

The incident made him more acquiescent that led to the current living arrangement. My wife and I speculated that as he recovers and gains more confidence, he would want his independence back.

There were already a number of instances prior to that Sunday wherein he made some demands to go to certain places and do certain errands. It was becoming clear that he’s feeling well enough and slowly becoming restless. But for now, let us leave those stories - our (mis)adventures as he regains his confidence to venture by himself in a future blog.

Giving in to my father’s wishes did not come easily as we interpret them as merely excuses to go out of the house. However, it occurred to me that I may not always have such opportunity to bring him where he wants to go. I was just probably afraid it might become too frequent to handle. Anyway, he and I can always come up with certain compromises on how and when to do them should some conflicts emerge.

To accommodate his wishes to go to his barber, we went to the Cathedral and found it overflowing with people. The kids, my wife, my father and I content ourselves standing on the stairs leading to one of the three or four Cathedral entrances. We literally “heard” mass as we saw neither the priest nor the altar.

The Cathedral was just across the street from a park where a children’s playground was recently added. So while my father was having a haircut, the three kids had a blast with the animal statues.

It was particularly exciting to our toddler as he’s been learning to sing “Mr. Rhino…got one tail, four feet, twelve toes” much to our amusement, especially with his cute rendition and all. He proudly got on to each of the animals: the rhino, the tiger, the giraffe, the elephant, the zebra, but not the monkeys as they were literally on a tree, while the crocodile, tortoise and eagle were fenced and beyond reach.

I thought we would run out of things to do as it might turn out to be a long wait. But what a relief! It really takes so little to please these kids. I guess it was the fact that they were all there together to enjoy the rides and each other's company that made it fun, plus a chance to each demand from me a lift onto the back of the statues.

The baby happily watched us from her mother’s lap, while the latter got a chance to play catch up with a couple of long-distance friends over the phone. My father was of course happy not only because of his new haircut, but I guess also the importance he must have felt when we worked around our schedule to accommodate his needs (or whims).

The new week witnessed our toddler talking incessantly about the animal statues as he vividly recalls the giraffe’s long neck and the elephant’s big ears. It was the same excitement when he first rode a horse in a merry-go-round and the many other “firsts” that never fail to remind me how inconsequential the price I had to pay for the joy my children brings me.

Thanks in no small part to my father’s insistence and my decision to give in that the day became one of the family’s best Sundays. It turned out that giving in to make someone happy is actually a gift we give ourselves.