RAE WORTHY

A girl should be two things: classy and fabulous!

Permalink Of course at this time in my life I am not ready to have another baby. The main issue is that when I am finally ready to have another one will I want to carry the baby myself? I really have given it a great deal of thought about getting a surrogate mother. I think when I bring it up to Brad he laughs it off and thinks I`m kidding around. My body is young and perfectly healthy to carry another child which I am very much thankful for that. My friends laugh it off too because why would I go pay a lot of money just to rent a womb which also includes hospital bills, providing food, and care, etc.  No woman has a perfect pregnancy. We all get back pains, body swells up, heartburn… I could go on and on what women have to put up with when being pregnant. Some don`t have it as bad as others but we all experience it together. I don`t mean to scare all my young lady friends who plan on starting a family of their own one day but I hated my body after pregnancy. Sure it was “baby fat” which people like to call it that but it is so hard to lose! Especially if your body is recovering from giving birth it is not that easy. The recovery for a mother who had to get a c-section is twice as long as natural child birth! *AHEM* That was me. I had to wait a lot longer before I could start working out again. Don`t even get me started in how much pain I was in. I swear I was thinking in my head how soon or how often I should take my pain medication depending on how bad my incision was hurting because I didn`t want to run out and have to go all the way to the doctor to prescribe me more. Now thinking about it I probably seemed like some drug addict. Yes, I can do the whole gym… diet… just to get my body back but it`s a pain in the ass! If I could avoid how gross my body looked after and just pop out a baby and look like I never gave birth at all I`d do it in a heartbeat again. Some women are lucky and their bodies go back after birth with out even trying but I`m one of the unfortunate ones. I probably sound selfish and shallow to a lot of people and will say that is part of the beauty of being pregnant. Well, I`d like to see them going to CVS every 2 months to try out different products to get rid of stretch marks! Also getting criticized by my mother constantly to lose weight faster because I still looked pregnant. Even got asked if I was pregnant again. That was a real boost to my ego! Thanks Mom (NOT). Not to mention I myself was not happy whenever I looked in the mirror. I have finally started taking off that baby weight and some added extra weight I put on myself due to the fat girl inside me. I`m starting to love my body again and most importantly have confidence. Is it wrong for me to love my body?
Permalink I love having my get togethers with the few people I can call my best friends. The few people who truly know me and have always been there through the laughter and tears. There have been times where we have misunderstood each other but in the end we have always been there for one another. Although we fall into the perfect example of teen mothers we refuse to be the statistics that America expects. Although we don`t see each other every day like we use to when we were young we still get together as if we just saw each other yesterday. I am happy to say that we are taking our lives into control with school and work for the pursuit of happiness. Statistics can tell us we will do poorly in life and raising our kids but obviously we are no where headed into that path. I am so happy that Brandon can grow up with my best friends children and build a close friendship together. I love watching them grow although as a mother my heart breaks that my baby is actually not a baby anymore. As our lives are run by our crazy energetic 2 year olds, I couldn`t have asked to share the experience of motherhood with the best women.
Permalink If I`m not in the mood to snack on fruit or veggies you will usually find me snacking on a Clif bar. Whatever Brad and I eat Brandon will eat so we try to keep a day to day healthy diet. So every time I snack on a Clif bar Brandon will beg for some. Don`t get us wrong we give Brandon treats here and there but rarely so he will appreciate the greens more. Brandon does have a sweet tooth but we all do and that`s normal especially for a toddler. Even when it comes to drinking Brandon will only drink milk when we have to put him down for his nap and bedtime. For the rest of the day Brandon will only drink water. I tried giving him juice when he was 6 months old but he hated it and even until now he will only take one sip of juice and refuse to drink any more. Water is always better as long as he`s getting his vitamins in food I don`t mind. As a young mother I love it when companies come out with healthy snacks. I prefer to feed my son granola bars over cookies any day. I`m happy that I have a son that isn`t a picky eater. He will have his off days but for the most part he will eat whatever we put in front of him. So I`m raving over this Clif Kid Organic ZBaRs! Now Brandon can munch on his own bar specifically made for kids his age!
Permalink One of my pet peeves are people who post pictures of their food late at night. I wish I could eat a big juicy burger with a side of fries or chicken and rice at 1AM in the morning and not care what it does to my body. I turned my life around and right now I`m trying my best to keep away from late night binging since I`ve been working out and dieting. I don`t want to cave in but it`s hard when you have people posting food at 1AM. So just to be an asshole since I consider posting up pictures of food at this time in the morning is ridiculous and how I`m pretty much hungry myself right now I just wanted to say to all those people… “I HATE YOU! I hope you`re enjoying your food as your digestive system is converting and storing most of the food as fat. Have fun with your body this summer! Hope it was worth all those unhealthy calories.” I`m going to bed now and looking forward to breakfast because that`s the next time I`ll be eating.
Permalink Let me point out this is not an attack but an intervention. FACE REALITY AND STOP LYING TO YOURSELF AND TO OTHERS. I don`t have a diary or journal and when I did I was 10 and you would secretly read it. Even if I did have a diary at the age of 23-years-old you`d still secretly read my diary and then publicly embarrass me. So because of you I`m not for diaries so you`ll have to settle for my public blog. This is why you never fuck with little sisters. (This is still an intervention and not in any way a revenge.) You don`t like how I talk about family business publicly then don`t put up a status on Facebook about me. You just proved that you`re a hypocrite. Ever since I decided to bring Brandon into this world I promised myself and him that I will always try to provide him the best values of what the meaning of family is. Families have their arguments and we are not perfect. I would know coming from a not so perfect family growing up. I have always been a firm believer that blood does not make you family but family is who cares about you, there not only through the good but the bad, and can hold conversations without it getting hostile. Sibling quarrels usually make me laugh. I never take it seriously because I tend to be so laid back. But when you start to tell me I have no family values especially since I am a mother, you`re pretty much attacking everything that I am and stand for. From here on now no more jokes and giggles. I don`t have to make a joke out of any of my family members. No one can make a joke out of you besides yourself. If you`re mad at me because we clash in our beliefs and I call you out on exactly the kind of person you are and you want to tell your friends I`m making a joke out of you then so be it. You can only play the good guy for so long. You should be the last person to tell me that I have no family values. How does someone like you make a judgement on values to me. I guess maybe you and I have different meanings of what family values are. From what I know of you (which I pretty much know you pretty damn well considering I`m your sister) then these must be your top 3 family values you live by: Disrespect - You don`t even respect your own family. Did you not use our brother Ayn`s truck for months and would never fill up the gas tank, change the oil, and would get tickets when using his truck WHICH he paid for so you owe him money. PAY BACK! You took his truck and drove your friend(s) to Boston yet you wouldn`t even go pick Ayn up at the Hackensack bus stop when he needed you to. Respect is indeed earned and there is a very fine line between the respect he has for you now. The only way to earn and keep someone`s respect is to first show them respect yourself which you failed to do numerous times. Dishonesty - Remember the time when money went missing in the house from mom and dad. Mom came to me TWICE asking me if you stole money from them and TWICE I held my ground and defended you because you were my brother. I got upset at her for even accusing you for stealing and my defense was that you had a job why would you have to steal? I stood by you and you made me look like a fool. You didn`t even say “I`m sorry I didn`t tell you the truth” and and not even a “Thanks for having my back” at all. To this day you never even admitted you stole that money but you admitted it to Ayn. He took the blame for you and paid back what you stole. So AGAIN you owe him money so PAY BACK! Lack of Communication - I always tried to talk to you one on one as an adult. It never worked. Whenever you and I have a disagreement communication runs out the door. You flip out on me and hang up the phone. You get to speak your mind but when its my turn you want to cover your ears. Small issues grow into larger ones and when they eventually boil to the surface it`s unlikely they will be resolved calmly hence the reason for this blog. I am not ashamed or embarrassed when I talk openly about my relationship or to better put it the non-existent relationship that I have with “mom” if I can even call her my “mom” since I don`t really consider her one. I have no reason to be ashamed or embarrassed because I know I did everything I knew I could to build some kind of mother daughter relationship. So when asked about my family I tell them my family is my brothers and my sister, the people who truly matter to me. When dad passed away you attended the disgraceful lunch they held in honor of dad in which they invited about 200 to 500 people. Instead of spending it with the very few people who really cared about dad you spent it with strangers who never even met you until that day and of course only probably met dad once or twice since he`s been with mom. Oh and don`t for a second think I`m not going to leave out that you forgot your little brother was there too at the lunch. You forgot about the people who mattered and in the end you`ll have no family. I don`t mean to instill fear in you but the reality is mom won`t be there for you forever. Stop making excuses for yourself not to succeed on your own. You care too much on wanting to be a momma`s boy. You`re 25-years-old now get over it. How many times have you quit Primerica? I give you another year before I hear that you`ve quit yet again. Without Primerica you`ll have nothing. You want to be rich but how does one become rich if they are a quitter in everything they do? You have no attempts to go back to college and finish. You set goals for yourself only to not finish it. I hope you`ll prove me wrong and succeed but I think the person you want to prove wrong is your own girlfriend who herself expressed she`s afraid she`ll be the only bread maker if she stays with you. This is not a lie she told me this personally! The day you decided to stop working was the day that you put more of a burden onto their shoulders. You tried to guilt trip Ayn to giving mom $100 for food. You live there he doesn`t. You eat the food off of their table. Why don`t you get off your lazy ass and chip in $100 to feed yourself. Dad has passed away and now you cannot use him as a clutch to why you stopped working to help out mom. Also, don`t portray our father as a religious man. You`re disrespecting his memory and who he was. When you first started reading this you were probably pissed off and now you probably hate me. You know what I`m okay with that because at least now I put it out in the open that maybe you should start making changes. Stop judging my life and my beliefs and work on your own. Stop taking out your anger on me just because you don`t know how to face your demons. Since there is no God I guess I`ll be the one to put you in your place.
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Permalink My condolences go out to Whitney Houston`s family because death of a loved one is never easy. It just upsets me that people take drugs and couldn`t care less anymore whether they`ll come out alive or dead. My father fought to keep his life while others take it for granted. I will NEVER feel sorry or hold any respect for anyone who chooses to risk their life every time they do drugs. I don`t care about who she use to be because she seemed to not care either. Yes, she was an amazing singer and she touched many lives at some point and helped girls and boys to always chase after their dreams. But through her drug addiction she became a bad role model. It goes to show you that money isn`t everything and it can`t buy you happiness. I don`t know her reasoning for taking drugs but it`s never okay. Drugs are a way for people to escape their depression or problems and I think its an easy way out of having to face reality. Whitney Houston had so much talent and its sad to see that she passed away at 48-years-old. A fatal cocktail of prescription drugs and booze killed the 48-year-old singer before she became submerged in a bathtub. My dad was only 58-years-old when he passed away. At 58 that`s still young and many of those years he battled sickness to stay alive as long as he could for his family. So for someone like me to feel bad for someone like Whitney Houston will not happen. Everyone wants to remember her of how she use to be but the way she should also be remembered is how she passed away because of her drug addiction, so that everyone will be more cautious of the results that drugs will have. As a mother I`m scared of how celebrities will have an affect on Brandon when he grows older. I want him to know and be aware of what drugs can do to you and how it can change who you are and what it will make you become. It`s heartbreaking that Whitney herself was a mother, you`d think that she would for once stop thinking about herself and think about what her actions were doing to her daughter. If thinking about how drug addiction was hurting her daughter couldn`t make Whitney stop taking drugs than all hope was lost from the start. Importantly she should have asked herself what kind of role model was she to her daughter in the end? There are rumors going around that her daughter is doing drugs. It`s becoming a cycle and it needs to stop. So I will be the few who refuse to celebrate who she use to be and willingly talk about who she ended up becoming because that is where you can stop it from happening to others.
Permalink I am not a Catholic and I pretty much do not practice any other religion for that matter. I have attended Catholic school from kindergarten all the way up to high school. It was my mom who brought up my siblings and I to be Catholic. As for my father he was not at all a religious man. I personally think its a waste of time to pray and go to church. Instead of praying for something good to happen go out and do it. There are so many hypocrites that claim to be devoted Catholics. The most religious people are usually the ones that talk the most gossip, selfish, and the least forgiving. As for priests all they do is talk out of their ass, thinking they know more than you do. For the priest that came to my dad`s wake, I wish I could smack the idiocy out of him. He claimed that in the “Filipino culture” when someone passes away, we don`t come together to not honor the person who just passed away but we come together because we are a community. It`s like NO, YOU DUMB ASS. We`re here to pay respects to my dad and that`s it. Obviously, you`re here for the wrong reasons. I wish I went up to him and told him to get the hell out because he was insulting my dad, a man who was the least religious person I knew. I don`t need to go to church to get advise from a man who claims to be the most connected with God. I know from right and wrong. I don`t need anyone to help me remember how to live a good life. For anyone who invites me to a religious gathering of that sort can stop wasting your time. I will never show up ever again. If there is a heaven then I will surely get in because I am a good person and not because I did good things to get into heaven. I don`t believe that the repetitious prayers or being a church goer will do anything for when I have to get into heaven. I don`t believe in God, spirits, or an after life. I guess I`m an atheist now.
Permalink I have finally decided to post up my eulogy and my brother Ayn`s that we presented at the wake to my loving father, Elso Canete Dayday (October 10, 1953 - November 12, 2011). It wasn’t always easy being with my father. But, being a father is also not always easy. Nor is it easy being a husband, a friend, or a brother. But, I ask myself: Is “easy” always the best way to be? Through my relationship with my father, I became strong. He passed his intensity to me and through me it burned and enabled me to press through any challenge. Whether it is being alone, finding myself, finding my soul m­­ate, or raising my extraordinary son. I remember when I was a young girl; there was much about my father that I did not understand. Before coming to America, while in the Philippines, it was my grandmother who raised my siblings and me while my dad was frequently away. He would be gone for months at a time. But he would always come back and explain to us that while he knew we were confused and saddened by his absence, he was working so that we, as children, could keep playing. However, later when we came to America there was something different that I did not understand. I did not understand why now he was always at home. Although I was a very young girl, the one thing I did know was that I did not like to see my father always at home without the excitement and spirit that he had in his former life. It was his life at sea that he so loved. Here, in this country, my father was now a “stay at home” Dad, while my Mother worked for the family income. Her distrust of childcare and the American system forced my Father into a life away from the sea and away from his soul. I began today by saying that it was not always easy being with my father. I say this because as a land locked man, with the free spirit of a sailor, a part of him had already died long before he ever became ill. As a man, and as a husband, he yearned to be the one who provided for his family as all men do. However, despite all of this, in my Father remained strength and dedication to his children and his family. He raised all of us the best way that he knew how…. and for this… I am forever grateful. Even though my dad thought less of himself after he stopped sailing we all thought only the best of him… and he in us. One day I came home and found he had left for me an entire suitcase full of art supplies. It was my dad, who believed in me when I decided I wanted to go to fashion design school. However, to me it was never the gifts of colored pencils or charcoal for sketching that mattered, but it was his unwavering belief in me and support for my dreams. Just as he once dreamed of the sea, he saw in my eyes the same fire that once burned in his to make my dreams reality. It was my dad who believed in me and my Dad alone. Just as I will also do one day, my Dad did live out his dream. He traveled the world as a sailor and it was only that lingering dream to travel that attracted him to Primerica. When he was well, Primerica gave him that chance to see a bit more of the world and reignite that fire that once burned in his eyes, if only for a fleeting moment. He did not do it for the money. A man like my Dad, a free and adventurous man like my Dad, does not become a sailor for the money. He does it for the joy of seeing the world and for experiencing life. Beyond the sickness in his final years and beneath that skinny body, which was only a shell… was a strong man… a big man… an independent man. Underneath it all was a noble and quiet man who did not need to depend on anyone’s help. He liked to keep to himself and his thoughts. He was a man of few words. If you knew my Dad well, then you knew that he did not like party going or much socializing. By his choice, his birthday parties only consisted of his children, grandchildren, close friends and family. There were no invitations sent to his former high school classmates or the men with whom he used to sail. There was never a circus, because he protected the intimacy of this family. He wanted to laugh and to dine with the people he loved and not with… say… 200 to 500 people.  My father’s last years, months, and days were also not easy. At one point in his life he was in control, but he lost that control through the system in America in which he found himself living, and through his body’s many imperfections in which he found himself trapped. Always wanting to give, now he was able only to receive. Always the one in charge, now he was in charge of no one, not even himself. However, with time, slowly but surely through grunting and groaning he began to find again his way and his spirit. He found a new way, a softer way. He found a way to be a free man and a Father even in his final moments through his ongoing dedication to his children with his kindness and compassion. He kept learning and teaching new lessons even as he approached death. These were lessons that had perhaps been previously inaccessible to him while thriving in the prime of life. No, my father was not perfect, but who in this world is? Although life with my Father was not always easy, my Father was, I am happy to say, perfectly himself… a warrior… a survivor… a man of integrity… and for this… I truly admire him. Lastly, to you Dad: I am sorry you did not get to go back to the Philippines and did not get to see your family one last time. I am sorry you had to pass away in a hospital room in the ICU hooked up to machines and needles poked into you. I am sorry that you were forced to remain here in America so you could get medical treatment. I am sorry you had to stay in this country, and in this world, suffering just because others could not stand the thought of being without you. I am sorry you had to suffer due to the selfishness of others. But now at least in death you will get to return and be buried in the land that you love, in the Philippines. Although I am reminded of my childhood when you were so often away at sea and I again feel a great sadness in your absence, I too can now rest knowing that you are no longer suffering. Now you sail through the seas of heaven with joy in your heart, and bliss in your soul. You are once again a strong and free man of the seas, a man with spirit and a man of perfect imperfection. And for this… Dad… we will always and forever love you. My brother Ayn`s eulogy: During the last half of my father’s life, comfort was a foreign word. So it is only fitting that I warn you, some of the things I’m going to say today are going to be uncomfortable. So I apologize ahead of time if this eulogy will offend some, but I cannot properly praise this man without telling you what I am about to say today. When I was a child my father could shoot lightning bolts out of his eyes and move mountains. He was a powerful, quiet, and mysterious figure to me. From the little that I know of my father’s youth, he was born October 10th in the year of 1953. When his sisters were born the doctor said, “It’s a girl!” When his brothers were born the doctor said, “It’s a boy!” When my father was born… the doctor said, “It’s a MAN!!!” My father was a man’s man, but he was never afraid to show a feminine side… so it’s too bad he didn’t have one. My father didn’t think too much of education so he never thought it important to go to college because he never really cared to read. He’d just stare a book down until it gave him the information he wanted… and if the book refused…pages would start tearing. After he got bored swinging from tree to tree in the jungles of the Philippines, he decided it was time to see what the world had to offer. So he packed his bags, tied together some bamboo sticks, and sailed to Manila. There he worked for his uncle, but he was a nomad and wouldn’t stay there for long. Sure he could have swam all over the world but he figured it would just be easier to jump on a ship, relax, and enjoy the ocean breeze in between adventures. In the 1970s, my Dad arrived in Hong Kong. No, my father didn’t meet Bruce Lee. Rather Bruce Lee… met my father… and we all know what happened from there. My father told me that Tokyo was the cleanest city he had ever been to. Not many people know this, but Godzilla is actually based on a true story. Let’s just say that after my Dad’s visit Godzilla disappeared into movies, myth, and folklore. During the 1980s, Steven Spielberg had the honor of meeting my father while he was stationed in California. He was so intrigued by my father that he asked if he could make a biographical film based on my father’s life. My father, a solitary fellow, refused. After a lot of nagging, my father grew annoyed. So he told Steven, “Only if it’s off the record.” The movie was called Indiana Jones. I asked my father once what he thought was the most beautiful city in the world. Without hesitation he answered, “Venice, Italy.” It was there that my father honed his skills as a cook. It’s no wonder he was so good. During his visits to Korea, my father became a master of singing. In our living room is a thousand dollar karaoke machine, because just like most Asians, Filipinos like to karaoke even when sober. At the end of every song, the machine would score you. The machine can only process a double digit score, so the highest score one could possibly ever get is a 99. I kid you not, my father once got a score of 102. It’s really why he didn’t sing when people were around. He was a humble man and didn’t want to embarrass anyone else with his harmonious voice. A few years after my father met my beautiful mother Josie and had kids… he announced his departure from the Nautical field permanently. If you look at the numbers, there is actually a direct correlation to a rise in the number of pirates in the open seas after the retirement of my father as a sailor. Every year when discussing with my siblings what to get our father for his birthday and Christmas, if we suggested something that we thought our father would not like, we would often jokingly say, “Send it to the Philippines!” iPod Touch? Send it to the Philippines! Blu Ray player? Send it to the Philippines! My father’s thoughts were so extreme that it sometimes bordered on insanity. In fact, he once told me, “You don’t drive your Cobra enough. You should just… send it to the Philippines.” And he wasn’t joking as he proceeded to tell me estimates on prices of shipping a car overseas. I don’t think my father ever realized how hurtful his rejection was of our gifts. A lot of times he would simply tell us, “Why didn’t you just give me money?” I often thought it was cultural, but I began to realize that it was just part of the nature of my father. As I said before, I cannot properly praise this man without telling you the most important thing of all… he was human… a human with flaws equal to the size as he was amazing. As I grew older and became a teenager, I began to see the imperfections inherent within my father. His fists were cast from iron and along with my mother that is how our household was ruled. Much like a lot of immigrant families, he moved here for the American Dream and the American Money… but refused to accept the reality of American Culture. My parents’ ideals were something that always clashed with ours, the children. Our household was devoid of hugs and I love yous. It wasn’t how my father was raised, so it wasn’t how we were raised. My father’s silent nature was only matched by his need to constantly judge others. To my father, if you had tattoos you took drugs. If you wore baggie jeans you sold drugs. Hence, my siblings and I have no childhood to speak of. There were no sleep overs, going to the movies, or having friends… because no one was safe enough… no one was good enough. When my father passed away, I don’t think he could even name any one of my few best friends. The only activity my father ever let me partake outside of the house was basketball. That is literally the only time I ever got out. Our house became a prison and my father was the warden. From grammar school to high school, I played for 6 years. My father never attended one game. He found it a nuisance to drive me. Near the end of my first season he yelled at me for asking him. I retreated to my room crying, not understanding why my father was the way he was. Ever since that time, it was my head coach Mr. Clifford who would pick me up and drive me to games. By high school, when my best friends Jerry and Matt got their driver’s license it was them who took over the duties. I always wondered how my friends saw my father. I always wondered how they saw me. I became ashamed and embarrassed, not for my father, but for myself. There was a period of 2-3 years that I did nothing but come home from school, go to my room, stare at the wall, and ask… What was wrong with me that my father did not want to be with me? What was wrong with me that my father did not love me? My father was not a religious man. Every single day, my mother would make us pray the rosary in front of the Santo Nino. I often always wondered why my Dad would just stay in his room or in the living room watching TV. If my mother was running late for work, my father was put in charge of making us pray. I’m sorry to reveal to my Mom today, it was one of the few rules he never enforced.  He was often times very materialistic. He bought only designer clothes and designer jewelry. He was the type of person who was more concerned with what to wear for church than actually going to church. Growing up, the things I found of value: comic books, video games, and sports cards… my father could care less for. The only things that were relevant were the things he thought had value, so whenever I would ask he simply refused. I feared my father, feared his rejection.  By 7th grade I stopped asking my father and mother for birthday and Christmas presents. My father could not understand why I wanted to spend $60 on Sonic the Hedgehog instead of a $500 watch, so I simply never asked. To this day, there are still remnants of those feelings. I have become an individual who would rather give than receive. Conflict, is a word that describes a majority of my father’s remaining years. Conflict with his children, conflict with his wife, and conflict with his very life. Before we all became independent from our parents, we fought for every freedom we had. My oldest sister Daphne had the toughest road and it was her who had to make the biggest sacrifice by being the eldest. Along with my brother Rhaiz, little by little we chipped away. When it was my sister Sherae’s turn, she shattered whatever was left of the walls of imprisonment my father and mother had built. There is no denying that my sister Sherae was the one my father held the most dear. Sherae, I am sorry I never believed in you like Dad did. It was these events that I believe my father realized that as disappointed as he was, his family was more important than ideals and traditions. To my youngest brother Darnell, by the time it was your turn, Mom and Dad had already learned from their mistakes. Please forgive me for feeling the way I do. No matter what I say, I know you will never understand. I’m older than I look. I’ve seen too many wars and have too many scars. There are eternal wounds open that perhaps will never heal. You were raised by two amazing parents. Your relationship with Mom and Dad was something I always wanted. I once tried to fill the void that Dad created with you, but as you grew older our relationship changed. For a long time, I did not understand why. It was then I realized, there was never a void to begin with. Mom and Dad were ALWAYS there for you. I just want to tell you that please do not forget you have 4 brothers and sisters who sacrificed so much to pave the way for you. To my brother Rhaiz, I know in anger you once asked me, “How do you know Dad’s life?!” The same reason you know Dad’s life… because we are his sons and he is our father. We have our opinions, but at the end of the day our love is our blood and it will ALWAYS be stronger than the differences of our thoughts that divide us. Always you will be my brother, always we will be the sons of Elso. People often ask me, “Why don’t you travel? You’re young and you have money!” I always answered with, “Well, my Dad… yah know, he’s sick, I want to be here in case anything happens.” I don’t have to answer that question any more. However, to my sister Daphne and my brother-in-law Matthew… I know both of you chose a different path. I want to tell you that Dad would have been proud of you. There was a time when my father was 17 years-old, ran away from home, away from his family… to pursue his own dreams and to create his own family. There was a time when Dad would’ve said, “Are you crazy? Leave me! Get out of here! Go and see the world like I did!” In his final moments, while you were away seeing the world, he knew both of you were coming back for him. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise. My father was at times careless and irresponsible. He drank and smoked too much and ate whatever he wanted. A combination of bad habits and bad genetics was eventually what ended his life. However, in his illness and suffering, perhaps becoming aware of his mortality, it was in the hospital that I began to know who my father really was: stories of his adventures, his hopes, his dreams, his disappointments, and ultimately his remorse.  My father was a slave to his memories. Bound by the chains of times long gone, the sea was where he belonged. There are not enough trees on this planet to make paper to write down the number of regrets my father probably had in his life. Often times I would wonder if our family was one of them. My father was not a social creature. He was an independent and kept to himself. If he could get out of being at his own wake, he probably would. I know there are many of you here who never knew my father or perhaps only met him once or twice. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for being here today to support my Mom, aunts, and uncles who knew him well. Tomorrow afternoon, there will be a lunch in honor of my father. I will not be attending. Just like my father, I too am not a social creature. My father believed in the sanctity of his close friends and family. In most of his stories, there were never any names, just places. His birthdays were never big affairs. It was the people who were there and had always been there, not just when he was healthy, but most importantly when he was suffering. If you do not know who I am, if you do not know who my brothers and sisters are… then you did not truly know my father. Many of you who are here, once again I thank you. It means so much, but you are still strangers to me. I invite you to change that… and get to know me… get to know my brothers and sisters… but today is not that day and neither is tomorrow. In my state of mourning, I will be with my sisters. The few people I know who truly knew my father. In our place to represent us will be my two brothers. As divided as we are, bonded by our love of him we will always be. I accepted my father’s fate 2 years ago. Now that the day has finally come, I feel exactly what I believed I would feel. A sense of relief… not for me or my family, but for my Dad. He is no longer suffering. I am an atheist. I do not believe in an after-life. I do not believe in church, in prayers, or in God. But I do believe my father is in a better place, right here. There are those who would say that because of my beliefs, I will jeopardize and endanger my father’s entrance into Heaven, and in fact, risk eternal damnation. If in fact I am wrong and there is a God, a Heaven, and a Hell… I think my father had it right. My father will go to Heaven NOT because of repetitious prayers and masses… but because he was a good man who lived a good life. And Deh, if they tell you that you can’t get in because you didn’t pray enough or didn’t go to Mass enough… I want to tell you, to Hell and back I would go back to, if that’s what it took to get you. When my father passed away, he believed I was selfish. Despite the 60” HDTV in his living room I got him. Despite the stove Matthew and I bought for him one Christmas. Despite the fence that I paid for and my brother put up in the backyard. Despite all the paint I bought for my brother to repaint the house. Despite all the money I gave to my Mom for the first few years I started working. Despite all the laptops I bought my brothers and sisters. Despite all the HDTVs, Xbox 360s, and PS3s in their rooms. Despite the first few semesters in college I paid for my little sister Sherae. Despite all the electronic gadgets I would buy and fix for my family. Despite the last 5 years my birthdays being spent in the ICU with my father or waiting in the surgical waiting room not knowing whether my father would live or die. Despite spending 3-4 hours with him 5-6 days a week after a 12.5-15 hour work day every time he was at the hospital… Despite having to clean him because his nurses wouldn’t… Despite all this, my father died believing I was selfish.    My father used to love motorcycles. He only stopped riding when we crashed in the Philippines while I was in the back, luckily I was not injured. When my father was in the hospital 3 years ago, he told me, “Sell your car, just get a motorcycle. Ride it at night when there are no cars. It’s cheaper and more fun. Just don’t get a license. You’ll get rated when you get life insurance.” My brother Darnell once asked me, “Why 3 motorcycles?” Darnell, the same reason why I bought you 4 HDTVS, 4 Xbox 360s, and 4 PS3s. It was never about the things… it’s being with the people whom I loved. You, Sherae, Rhaiz, and Ateh.  How would I ride motorcycles without my brothers also having motorcycles? Despite all of this… my father died believing I was selfish. He was unappreciative and as I stated earlier… unaware of how hurtful he was… but I accept my father for what he was and for what he was not. There are those who would say that my father died a poor man. He never had money to call his own. He was not as Bisayans would say… he was never “ha ya hay.” There was always that sense of disappointment with my father that none of his five children ever became wealthy to allow him to be free again. But as his health deteriorated, I think my father knew the truth. The truth is my father was the wealthiest man on this planet. Before my father took his last breath, he did not call out for money. He didn’t scream out for designer clothes, he didn’t ask for expensive jewelry. He called out for his children. He called out for his grandchildren. I stand before you today and am not afraid to say that I speak for my father when I tell you, his ultimate treasure was his family. I have a memory of my father leaving for the ship to finish out one of his contracts. He hugged my sister Daphne and I so hard that it was like I became a part of him… he cried so much before leaving us with our grandparents. He would tell us, “I’m going to miss both of you so much. Daphne I’m going to buy you the most stunning dresses. Ayn I’m going to bring you back the best toys.” As much as my father loved the world and its many wonders, it was no match for the beauty of his family. I now know why my father never said I love you. His actions spoke for him. He sacrificed everything that he loved… for us, his family. So… in comparison to what my father has been for my family… I am selfish… and would be happy to be even just half the man he was. Looking back, I have no regrets to the decisions he and my mother made for us. The good, the bad… I take it all and embrace it all. I am not who I am today without them. It was during my father’s time as a sailor that my father was truly alive. From when he was 18 to when he was in his 30s, he traveled the world. There is not a port my father has not been to. He used to collect the currency of every country he visited. In his room used to be a box with more coins than the United Nations had flags. Back in 6th grade, there was a big lunch room discussion about whose Dad could beat up whose Dad. I wish I could go back in time and tell them that before Saturday, my father was 14-0 against Death and Suffering. How many Dads can lay claim to that?  I said to you before, I am an atheist. But life does not end when your heartbeat stops. My father in a fit of depression once told me, “Remember not how I died. Remember how I lived.” There are those who would say that my father is now dead. I tell you… my father is alive and well. I look up every day and I see my father… Rhaiz, Sherae, Darnell, and Ateh… every day I see you I see Dad. Gavin Earley, Alexander Earley, and Brandon Stolworthy. Which one of you will be the adventurer? Who amongst you will be the rebel? Who will be the one who makes the sacrifices that he made? Elso Dayday lives on, not just in our memories, but within each and every person he cared for and loved. Now that I am an adult, I now know the truth… My father could shoot lightning bolts out of his eyes. My father… could move mountains. From what I know of his remaining years, he had more riches than any man could have ever dreamed of.
Permalink I am far from being the perfect mother but every day I strive to be. Being a mother is hard work, all mothers can relate that it`s not a walk in the park. Every day is a new day full of different surprises. I plan to go back to school this spring, summer, or the fall. I say this because it all depends on my financial situation. It will be another accomplishment that I can add on to my list. Getting my Associates degree will be so exciting because right after I can get right into police academy. Knowing all of that, I cannot wait to go back to school. As of right now I am currently working towards one of my goals which is to move out and get my own apartment before Brad leaves to train for the Navy Seals. Then everything else will follow. I know my life will be so hectic but I believe that I can do it. I`ve done it without anyone`s help and I can certainly do it still. The truth is I will be a single mother even if Brad and I were to marry. That`s what is expected when you become a military wife. I support Brad`s dreams 110%. I will find the balance of going to school, work, gym, and raising Brandon. There are times where it does scare me but I know I can adjust to changes with time. I already balance 3 out 4. It will be easier once Brandon is enrolled in day care but I`m hoping I don`t have to do that. Right now Brad`s schedule with training and my work schedule require him to be with Brad while I`m at work. Once Brad leaves I just plan to enroll Brandon in pre school because he`ll be old enough by then. I`m just rolling with the changes. As of right now I have been concentrating on opening my own clothing line for toddler boys. As a young mom to a little boy I am unsatisfied with the clothing. I feel like I`m buying the same clothes every year as Brandon gets bigger. Oh and besides the fact that a lot of the boys clothes are not funky and cool! My line is geared towards mothers who enjoy dressing up her son but also that he is comfortable in what he wears as he plays. My looks are edgy and refreshing but fashion forward. Sometimes I don`t even think how crazy it is to be a cop and a fashion designer at the same time. My friends have a joke about me… “Super mom and fashion designer by day and police officer by night.” Hey, it`s about time we had a cop in my family! Pursuing my own clothing line is just a dream that I love to chase and it`ll be amazing if I can make that dream a reality.