THE LAST SUPPER

Dining tables should be a family’s avenue for sharing how their day went, for
exchanging life hugot and advices, for giving sweet smiles and genuine laughter; but
ours was different, for in that place have I devoured the “bitterest” of epithet that
shaped my identity today.

It was an ordinary day in October 2014, but not for a child who failed to meet
the standards for the first time. The table was all set for dinner – the newly-
cooked rice, the hot and sour sinigang, the plates, the utensils. Everything was set
as I sat with my eyes swelling from crying a river. It was quiet, no one dared to
speak; perhaps they knew what I was going through and only silence was their
expression of comfort. Only the screeching sound of the spoon and fork rubbing
against the plate could be heard, not until the head of the family spoke with
authority. He started bringing back his hardships, his great sacrifice of working
overseas just to provide our necessities. From there, he pointed his fingers on my
angle, and with the look on his eyes with disgrace, he blatantly asked where I did
have the audacity to get low grades where in fact being an achiever was the only
thing I should be doing as his son. He continued by throwing questions which
degraded my individuality – from questioning my intelligence, my abilities, and my
attitude. I tried explaining my side but every argument I threw was rebutted. Tears
began to stream down my face. My knees started to tremble and my hands shook
as I still tried to ingest the remaining food on my plate. I paused awhile when I
noticed the sinigang was not sour anymore, it became salty! It was then when I
realized that the saltiness of tears prevailed; and from that moment I promised to
myself that it will be the last supper that I will be a total failure from the eyes of
my father.
 I cried the whole night thinking of where I lacked or where I did fail. I was just
a human, bound to make mistakes, but why was I punished for being imperfectly
made? I could not get off what he said. “Hindi ka nagkulang, nagpabaya ka!” “Wala
ka na ngang ibang gagawin kundi mag-aral tapos hindi mo pa aayusin?” “Hindi ka ba
naaawa sa mga magulang mo na kumakayod para lang magkaroon ka ng magandang
kinabukasan tapos ganito pa gagawin mo?” “Anong pinatutunayan mo sa pagbagsak
mo, ha?” “Nakakahiya ka!” Every single word seemed to be whispering on my ears
again which directly pierced through my heart. My breathing became irregular and
heavy and I was chasing for oxygen. I could not move and I could feel that my
heartbeat fluctuated from fastest to the slowest. Lubdub… Lub… Dub… Lub . . .
My heart stopped and only the pillow became the witness of breathing my last. My
heart became cold and frozen.

I woke up to the natural alarm of roosters nearby. I felt brand new. Perhaps,
the tears I consumed last night served as a fuel to ignite the fire in my spirit. I was
awakened to my senses. I was motivated to do things and from that moment I
could actually feel like I could conquer the whole world. From that day, I strived
harder in my studies and in all aspects of life. I became the top of our class. I
bagged the championship in every contest I joined in. I got medals and trophies and
certificates. I got everything I needed to meet the standards but my father had
blind eyes and deaf ears. He did not appreciate what I have achieved. From that
moment, I asked myself, “For whom was I working for?” I became the class
valedictorian for my dad. I got the first place in an essay writing contest for my
dad. I joined the student council and won as president for my dad. Everything I did
was for my dad, for him to not get disappointed and to change how he saw me
from the last supper I spent with him. I felt like I was a robot programmed to
satisfy my dad and other people
who have set standards. I felt like I was always working to be someone people
wanted me to become. I felt like for my entire life, I lived for other people.
Everything they wished was my command and I never had a time asking myself
what I wanted and obeying what my heart truly desires. Oh wait, I actually forgot I
have a heart because for years it’s my mind I followed. For years, I did not became
a human bound to make mistakes. I became a robot bound to be perfect. I was
stunned. I felt bad for myself. I did not realize I was changing. I did not care for
myself. I did not give myself the chance to be happy, though what I achieved gave
me happiness, but never the genuine happiness that following my heart could give. I
felt sorry for myself. It’s I who suffered the most when I thought I was winning. I
am sorry, I really am.

I wished all the happiness to all the people who became happy for the
materialistic things I have achieved; but now, I wish all the happiness to the person
who once became a robot, but is now coming back as a human – bound to be true
not perfect, bound to make mistakes, bound to be happy; I hope they wish the
same thing for me. To the big waves I will conquer, to arrive at my destination! Bon
voyage! Run free.

Cuesta, Dan Moises Dave R.

G12 – Emerald
Humanities and Social Sciences