My father finally came home after eight years abroad. After every person I talked to about him assumed he already had a family there. 

He did his best to give me a ride every time I went to work. It's his own way to make up for lost time. I was an intern at a local firm but I signed up for a leave to travel abroad with my father.

 We were only less than strangers. But my facial features that mirror his were uncanny. He has the same wavy hair and prominent cheekbones. A receding hairline and a dimple on both sides.

 We could be mistaken as brothers. When he asked me to drink, one on one, man to man, I had to laugh because we wore the same over-pressed black suit and shoes.

No star could be seen in the sky and I shivered in my coat. Villa Maricar was the name of the bar and only a few people were around because we came early. I ordered a blue lagoon cocktail as my father constantly expressed how glad he was to be reunited with his son.

"Drinks on me!" he announced. 

Then, he introduced me to people we don't know, and asked me, "Do you have any lovers?"

"Your work?" 

"How's life?" 

Anything, and I thought he deserved to know.

I've been into interviews like this as if on a first date so I haven't had a hard time telling him everything.

"Pa, I've been with men and women before."

"Oh," he said and it took him a while to say or with nothing else to say, "I'm proud of you, son."

A couple of shots and he was dancing, another couple of shots, when his face turned as red as a tomato, he started apologizing for being absent almost my entire life.

"I'm sorry if I wasn't able to give you the love you needed," he sobbed, "because I was away."

"Pa, you've done enough," I affirmed. "You've provided us a good life."

I put his arm over my shoulder as we walked back to the apartment we were staying in. When we arrived, I gave him a cup of coffee to ease his headache. Then I escorted him to his room and bid him good night. 

Before I left the room he said, "Wait," sitting on his bed and turning his lamp on. I thought he was going to apologize again but it seemed like he already composed himself. I sat beside his bed and waited. 

Snow drifted outside, the wind knocked on the window and my father was only a silhouette by the light of the lamp.  Finally, in all his drunkenness, he spoke.

"One day the world will demand many, many things from you. If that time comes, I want you to promise me that you'll only give the excess and keep what's important to you. And I hope you never lose sight of what you truly value."

I found him in the dark and saw he was crying. I started to cry too. I will never forget those words.

It tugged a string in my heart and by going home did I truly understand what he meant. 

My heart yearned for something, someone, somewhere as if it had forgotten where it belonged. Now it's time to forgive myself for looking for love in all the wrong places.

At twenty-five, I thought my life was over. But not that I want to end it. It's as if I die now, anytime, I won't have any regrets. I'm content with the life I've lived so far. I even felt lucky. 

In comparison, my life was so put together that there was nothing left to ask for. The impudent and improvident fear still lurked within me. I was still scared that I would never be loved back because I couldn't love anyone. I was reminded of my old conundrum, How can you love anyone, if you're not allowed to love someone?

I was only deceiving myself. When I let them go each one of them. Again and again. Even time would testify.

I figure I needed to find someone who has the right tools because at the end of the day, the person who broke you can't be the one to fix you. Although I didn't have that strong sense of passion that I jumped from places to places what I want and not what I wanted even in my course. Like how my studies seemed unworthy so I pursued arts instead. It felt like an arranged marriage. It's embedded in my head that people will come and go.

It's time to grow up. The world is not always about me anymore. I should stop fantasizing about the future and much uncertainty. Instead, look back and focus on what actually happened and not what could have happened.

At least I could learn from it and reduce my fantasies about what could have been. Once again, I realized how insignificant my problem was compared to the rest of the universe.

Haven't I had enough? Don't I need to focus more on myself, to heal? I knew better that I won't find myself if I'm looking for it on someone else.

But when I thought of starting a family or settling down, I always thought of one person. Someone who would never get tired of me. Someone who loved me unconditionally. The next time I fell in love, I knew I already found the one, I just let her go.

After we went home, I packed most of my things again. I made up my mind to go back and fulfill a promise.