Jeepney Press : Marilyn Rivera

The Leap by Marilyn Rivera

He was gone and I am still here. "Take the leap," my father said. "But I am scared of failure," I quietly added. "Don't be afraid to fail," he keeps repeating. "It is a prerequisite for success. That is life when you’re living it." With these words, my father's voice still echoes in my ears.

My world was full of standardized restrictions. It revolves around strict rules of what was expected of me. I was in a form of a bubble full of expectations, certainties and quanti able outcomes. However secure I felt inside that bubble, I can also feel that it was about to burst sooner if not later. When my father died, I told myself not again. I nd myself in that same vulnerable spot where I feel so weak like a twig in the middle of a storm. It was exactly how I felt eight years ago, when my mother passed away. I was so angry then when my siblings asked me to arrange my father's clothes for his burial. I already did it for my mother and the pain was agonizing. No! Not for the second time. Yet again I told them yes, it would also be best that I do it for both of them. So I can choose something for him that matches what I bought for my mother in her funeral before. Both will appreciate the matching décor.

Sitting quietly in front of him, I saw his life rolling in a lm played in front of me. From when I was a child until I become an adult, happy and sad moments with him, fights and making peace with him. And in the back of my mind, I was also constructing his list of rights and his list of wrongs. And the list of wrongs definitely was almost twice as long as the good things in his life.

Why did he do these things? The pain he caused and the things he lost. Was it all worth it at all? In a split second, so many things ran in my mind, then I finally realized why. Suddenly his list of wrongs slowly added to his list of rights. Yes, all these were worth it for him. No doubt in my mind.

Days earlier before his demise, we had a short conversation in his hospital bliss. He moved his hand to get my attention. I looked at him and he looked at me, he did not say anything. But I know that stare he makes so I said, "I'm okay, just get well and be well-rested in bed." Not a word from him until an hour later when I heard his voice like a worn out tape recorder, "You should do what feels right. Take your leap. Then after, you would know why."

One day, my daughters will also sit right in front of me as they see my life rolling like an indie lm. In the back of their minds, they will also construct my list of wrongs and my list of rights. My wrongs may be longer than my list of rights. But I pray that they will also gure out why and slowly add my wrongs into my list of rights.

"I'm jumping in with everything I have. I am taking my leap so hold steadfastly instead.

Eyes forward with hands on the helm. No bitterness, no sad letters, and with no regrets.

Hold on, hold on! You bold and brave! You can only learn to y when you start to fall." - marilyn r.