An advanced Fathers' Day gift for my dad was in a small corner of today's newspaper. I didn't think he would react the way that he did. I haven't seen my dad cry since his first Christmas after his stroke. When we called his mom and he realized he couldn't greet her Merry Christmas.

Old dad, new dad

I miss my daddy.

A few years ago, my father suffered from a stroke. He’s never been quite the same from that point on. His weight dropped down. He can no longer walk without the help of a leg brace or a wheelchair. He can only speak limited words or phrases. He no longer plays golf, the perpetual sock markings on his feet have now faded.

These days, mornings are signaled with a cheer from him at the breakfast table.

“Kamusta?” I ask.

“Mabuti,” he answers, almost automatically as if it’s already been programmed into his system.

It doesn’t matter if our exchange is in English. The words remain practically the same.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

It can be quite frustrating to have a conversation with daddy because half the time, I’m the only one speaking. But I’ve learned the art of interpreting his hand gestures, his one-syllable utterances; I’ve re-learned how to understand him.

A lot has changed after his stroke, and I feel like somehow, he’s not the same person that he was before. And I do miss my old dad. I’m even scared that I might have forgotten how conversations between the two of us used to be like.

But there are also new things that I am thankful for. I’m his favorite tooth brusher. Since his right side is paralyzed, he has difficulty in doing simple tasks like brushing his teeth, or taking a bath. I don’t know why exactly, but he likes to ask me to brush his teeth whenever he can. I’m touched, in a way.

We like watching TV together. Recently, he has acquired a new favorite TV show. There was one morning he was trying to say something that all of us couldn’t understand. He was making all sorts of weird facial expressions and hand gestures. We all thought he was trying to remember the name of a friend, or a relative. Then, out of nowhere he blurts out, “Mr. Bean!” All of us start laughing because he got the actions down pat. Apparently, he thought Mr. Bean was aired everyday. So, now he looks forward to Wednesday evenings.

He’s had a second chance at life and he seems that he has become a much lighter person now. He’s excited about the simplest of things like a really good meal, or an even better dessert. We all enjoy the sound of his voice, even if he only says our names. And sometimes, I feel like his smile is happier now.

There are a lot of changes and daddy really is a new person altogether. It might take a while before we can have lengthy conversations again, or walk around the mall together. I may never get my old one back just the way he was.

I do miss my old daddy, but I love the new one so much more.

They changed my title and left out some parts. But wow, the look on my dad's face was just precious.