Papa was once a healthy and reasonable man and a father whose daughters look up to him. He was a silent type, rarely gets mad, and agrees to things most of the time. He laughs very often and seeing from old photos of him, he's much into sports. I like to think the intrest I have in photography and film is one of the things I got from him. He was quite a father, you know. He will always be.
However, my siblings and I can't help but feel like what he was then is different, if not so entirely, from who he is at present. The medicines he's been taking for his health has done so many things inside his body that though its the same skin he's been standing in all these years, it feels as if there have been too much alterations. Too many for our liking. Changes that goes with aging, the person heart strokes had turned him into and really, just growing old. Here I found him one morning sleeping in front of the TV.
I have written bits and pieces about him before and it doesn't take much for my eyes to swell up just thinking about it. Whether it's a product of frustration or the longing of times that has taken for granted, whatever it was, and whatever it will become in the future, it will remain to me a Sunday morning and I'm a little girl again riding on his shoulders walking home from church.