Jia Mercado

Whenever I got into trouble at school and they said, “We’re calling your parents,” I’d confidently give them my grandfather’s number 😅

I already knew Daddy wouldn’t get mad.

He and Tito Dennis would drive all the way from Caloocan to Las Piñas just to talk to my teachers first. Eventually, they’d tell my parents too, but not before making sure I wouldn’t get scolded too much.

I guess that’s when everyone knew I wasn’t a daddy’s girl or a mommy’s girl.

I was my Daddy’s girl.

Looking through our photos, hindi naman ako nagulat na you were there through it all. Birthdays. STC Family Days. Graduations. Random munchies.

It was never a question kung sasama ka ba. Automatic na yun na kasama ka.

Every plan somehow revolved around you (and Joaques ofc). Hindi puwedeng masyadong malayo ang lakad kasi mapapagod ka. Dapat may Chinese food para may chicken feet o noodles. Lahat ng checkups mo, na-book ko na in advance para alam mo na kung kailan ako mag-o-overnight sa Fairview at tabi tayo magssleep.

I never thought I’d have to imagine a life where you weren’t automatically part of the plan.

Kanina, as usual, sinilip ko yung CCTV para tingnan kung kumusta na kayo sa Fairview.

Saka ko naalala… last hello mo na pala sakin kahapon.

Wala na tayong susunod na pandesal o McDonald’s breakfast. Hindi na tayo manonood ng Dolphy o James Bond. Hindi na tayo tataya sa lotto o makikinig sa DZBB.

At wala na ring, “How’s my baby?” na text o tawag.

I could keep babbling about all our big and little moments together, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

I love you so much, Daddy.