I wait. Because Dad said so.

I learned the value of waiting from my father.

For hours he would wait for my mom dress up and prepare her hair, change into this and that only to decide later there’s something better to wear than the five get-ups she tried on. We never heard our dad complain. I guess for him, it wasn’t about the time wasted, it was seeing the person he loves so much change from being pretty, to beautiful and then on to astonishingly lovely right before his eyes.

So, my dad would just sit there listening to the tension, the chaos of seven kids and the sweet funny indecisiveness of the lady of the homestead. And when it’s finally time to go and rush off to church, trusting that everything’s in order, we’d realize the youngest, Sam, was left behind playing at the frontyard. We were often late for the Mass. I don’t know about you, but I’d say it’s still one facet of keeping the Sabbath holy: preventing seven kids in a van from having fistfights and quarrels.

My dad’s patience is emphasized when mom did her grocery shopping when we were young. He would sit in a coffee shop waiting for hours for mom to finish buying the week’s supply and it would later turn into a major shopping venture. Mommy knew what we needed and these would have to be secured. (What we wanted, now that’s a different matter altogether.)

Through all that waiting, my dad stayed in the background. And looking back, it was a wonderful way of teaching me patience. We never felt the tension. He never made us feel any of it, if there was. If at all, he’d break the tiring experience with his funny one-liners.

It’s not much different today. After Sunday Mass, dad would sit quietly in a coffee/donut shop while mom did grocery shopping. I have often wondered what went on in his head while waiting. And back then, when we were young and at a time when gadgets like celphones and iPods haven’t been invented yet, all he had were his coffee, paper and his fountain pen (Darn, I miss the smell of Quink ink.)

Did he kill time by thinking about work back then? Or the state of politics in the country?  Or reminisce, as I would often do when I am alone in a coffeeshop?

Waiting, for some, or most/all of us, is a pet peeve. It is losing control over our time and activities. Yet, my dad doesn’t seem to think so. He was in control. At least, he didn’t lose his control.  And lest you think my mom had no respect for my dad’s time, I think it was the opposite. By covering everything in one trip while dad waited, they were both in control of the family’s direction.

Now what about waiting? I learned from my dad to patiently wait. I had accompanied Dimples, my sister, when we were young to many errands (classic was her final interview with Honda Magallanes, I finished three movies at their waiting lounge) and I patiently waited, often, by daydreaming.

There is “glory” in waiting, I believe. That after the long wait, as exemplified by my dad, there’s a smile when it’s ready to go back home. The glory there, I would suppose, is seeing everything in place or falling into place - my mom making sure everything’s in order like food and clothing and what not, kids enjoying the day out, bonding time for us siblings (I was just following Alain’s lead everytime we’re at Rustan’s Cubao!!!) - and he would be right there with a smile for the family he started.

And so, at a time when I am feeling much has been too long to come by my way, I look at my dad and learn from his patient wait when mom’s doing her grocery shopping.

Never mind the long wait (career, lovelife, big dreams), as if my dad would say. Because, just when your patience is about to run out, it’s just like waiting for mom - you will go home with everything you need, always!!

(Posted this orginally on my Facebook for my Dad. The inspiration, I should say, comes from a couple of things. 1. I love my Dad. 2. I’m waiting for someone. Someone I would introduce to my Dad. Ha ha ha!)