Planes Make Fathers Cry

http://www.rdasia.com.ph/plane_rides_make_fathers_cry
An article in readers digest asia... 
One day in 1995, my five-year-old son EJ returned to our home in Manila from school. His shoulders were slumped and his usual happy demeanour had disappeared. When I asked what was wrong, he replied in a small voice that he didn't want to go to school anymore.

Having raised five children, I knew that it would be better to let his emotions cool down and pursue the matter later, rather than force the truth out of him then and there.

At dinner, EJ was very quiet. Afterwards, I saw him lipping through our dusty encyclopaedias as if he were trying to find a particular page. My wife Susan was worried. "This is just part of growing up," I assured her. "I'll deal with it later."

Later that evening I went up to EJ's room. Seeing that he was under the blanket, I assumed that he was asleep. I even congratulated myself for not making a big issue out of his bad mood. I knew that tomorrow, he would be back to his lively, playful self again.

As I was closing the door, I saw a movement. I went to the bed and gently lifted the blanket covering EJ's face. My little boy was silently crying his heart out.

When I asked him why, he told me between sobs that he didn't mean it when he had said that he didn't want to go to school. ''I am still going to school, Pa, but I will just sit and play with Linda, not Ben and Jerry.''

I was surprised because Ben and Jerry, who are cousins, were his best friends. ''Did something happen between you and your friends?'' I asked.

For a few minutes the tears just flowed from his pleading, beautiful eyes.

Finally, he answered. ''This afternoon, Ben and Jerry were talking about their recent trip. They went to a land where there are dancing dragons. When I tried to join in and say something, they told me to stop. Because this land is so far, they have to ride in a plane. They know very well that I have never been in a plane.''

The rocking sobs started again.

''After that, Pa, they talked about how it was near the clouds when they were flying.''

I recalled how EJ wanted to get his kite flying through the clouds. He was fascinated by them.

''What were you looking for in the encyclopaedias?''

"I want to look at a place called Hong Kong. They said that's where the dancing dragons are. Maybe tomorrow, if I can show them what I know about Hong Kong, we could be friends again."

The boys must have been talking about the dragon festival in Hong Kong.

Slowly EJ's sobs became less frequent and he fell asleep.

As I left his room, I felt a deep sorrow for EJ and anger with his two young friends. But gradually, reason prevailed within me. This was not the boys' fault - they were just five years old.

In fact, it was my fault. As a busy, career-driven man, I hadn't taken my family for a holiday in years. That was why EJ had never been on a plane.

Things had to change. I arranged my schedule and made all the bookings for our trip. Within a few days, the two of us were on a plane, ready to take off for Singapore.

EJ was full of questions. In an excited voice, he whispered to me, ''Papa, are you sure that we will really reach those clouds?''

''Yes, son, we will be there in a few moments.''

''Pa, tell the driver to go now.''

''It's not a driver, son. They call him the pilot.''

As we were taking off, EJ pressed his face against the window, looking up and down, left and right. ''What is that smoke outside?'' he asked.

''They're the clouds, my son.''

''No, they're not! The clouds are like cotton balls.''

''No, they're the clouds. Look at those ones,'' I explained as I pointed at a white cluster below us.

''Papa, you're right! They're really the clouds! They're so beautiful!''

How I loved to see him in such a state of excitement and happiness. The night I had found him crying in his bed seemed so long ago. Now he was living his dream to be up in the clouds. It was the happiest moment of my life as a father.

I wanted to laugh with him, but my emotions were so mixed up that I cried instead. Tears of happiness, of self-redemption from years of neglecting my boy, flowed from my eyes. When EJ saw me, he solemnly leaned over and wiped the tears off my face. Then, as if nothing had happened, he turned back to the window, savouring his time in the clouds.

In Singapore, he was full of questions. ''Why does everything seem so clean?'' ''Why do the people speak differently?''

I still treasure those precious moments when, tired from all the day's activities, EJ slept soundly in my arms as we rode in a taxi back to our hotel.

EJ is now 18 years old and attends Jose Rizal University in Mandaluyong City. He stands 178 centimetres tall (12 centimetres taller than me) and is a bodybuilder. We really enjoy each other's company and remain the best of friends.

Looking back, I think our strong relationship is the result of our three days together in a foreign land, following his first plane ride.

Two weeks after our trip to Singapore, we held a party in our house. Mrs Panganiban, EJ's teacher, came to me and asked if I could explain a curious comment he had made.

''EJ was telling his classmates the things that happen in a plane ride,'' she explained. ''He was answering questions from his classmates, and his answers were given spontaneously and with full comical actions. Everyone was laughing and having a wonderful time.''

When there was a lull, Mrs Panganiban had spoken up: ''Come on, EJ, tell us more. What happens in a plane ride?''

Without thinking, my son blurted out: ''Ma'am, plane rides make fathers cry.''