Dear Bugsy,
Today is your 8th birthday and I can't thank God enough for giving you to us.
I'm going to tell the whole story of how you came into our lives. And I'm sorry if it took me all of 8 years to do so. But I'm sure you'll understand.
God laid out His plan on a clear Saturday afternoon, 96 full moons ago. Coming home from my graduate class that day, I saw your Lola Bebe---Dad and Mom's first cousin---watching TV with a scrawny lass about 15 years old . I smiled and nodded at them and went straight to my room and slept. Lola Bebe has grown familiar to this habit of mine, she being a frequent visitor.
Your mommy woke me for lunch. At the table, the girl was seated farthest from me. I looked at Lola Bebe and winked while pointing my lips at the girl. Lola Bebe smiled and said: "Si Tata, my working student." An intelligent Math teacher, Lola Bebe lives in Gamut, Barobo.
I had a class that afternoon and I was ironing my clothes (because I don't usually repeat what I wore in the morning) when Lola Bebe came up to me. She said Tata was pregnant (how and by whom the story was quite incredible to print here) and that she wanted Tata to stay with us until she was ready to give birth. The plan was to haul Tata somewhere after her stay with us.
I'm doing this, she said, because Tata's father would kill her if he knows about her condition. Her alibi to him was that she was bringing Tata to Tago to be the caregiver of Mommy Gly who was supposedly sick.
I told her we'd talk about it when I'm done ironing. At the executive sala I sat in front of Lola Bebe. Mommy Gly was watching TV. I had a feeling she already knew what Lola Bebe was about to tell me.
Hidden from us by a wall, Tata was sitting in the sala by the main door, alone.
Lola Bebe repeated her story. It was already apparent that you were up for adoption and that Lola Bebe wanted me to be your surrogate father. Alas! she didn't have the courage to ask me. Finding the responsibility of raising a child overwhelming, I played dumb. Then I told Lola Bebe I would call my officemate (who happens to be her husband's relative) who once told me that she wanted to adopt another baby and another one for her childless sister. The phone was busy. I tried again. The same. For five times that I dialed her number, her phone was busy.
(The same officemate would later tell me that she wasn't using her phone at the time I told her I called her and that her phone, which was always by her side, didn't even ring.)
I felt thirsty. On my way to the ref I looked at the girl sitting on a chair in the sala. On her lap was a tattered cloth bag the size of a short brown envelope. I knew that all her belongings and all her hopes were contained in that tiny bag. She looked at me and smiled in a way so awkward it pierced my heart and shattered my resolve. Until the day I die, I wiill never forget that smile. And in that very moment, I stood there transfixed, a vow forming in my head: Even with sights unseen, I will adopt your child!
Bugs, maybe I can tell you the rest of the story personally. What I want you to know is that you're luckier than all of us: While we didn't have that rare privilege of choosing our parents, you had God choosing your parents for you! That's our way of declaring our unconditional love for you.
I look forward to the day when I can share to you what happened inside my room on that rainy night when I talked to your biological mother who was to leave the day after, probably never to come back. God knows I cried buckets because I felt her helplessness of leaving you to us. But God will strike me dead if I didn't promise her that you will grow up knowing she's your biological mother, and that any time she can come back and make up for lost time with you.
Bugs, we love you no matter what. You know that, don't you? And here's our promise to you: Nothing's gonna harm you, not while we're around.
Love you much,
Daddy
