(The following is a short article I wrote last February 28, 2008 about my wife and about our love. I came across it while I was going over my old files. It says a lot about how love makes us blind, and how being blind because of love is not really such a bad thing. You just have to stand for it.)
THE wife is my first and only girlfriend, and I am proud of it.
We were in college when we met and fell in love. But afraid of her strict parents, we had to keep our relationship a secret. I agreed, although I was bursting to tell the world of such an awesome lass who saw beyond my frailties and shortcomings, because it was her choice.
We kept the love hidden even after college, her family believing we were just “close friends.” That was until we had to break to them the news that she was carrying our child.
They tried to keep her away from me, but gave me the chance to say goodbye before she leaves for Manila.
I shed copious tears and knelt before the whole family, begging that the love of my life should not be parted from me because it will break my heart, and hers too.
Boy, many would say I was a rare man, because if others would even try to hide from their responsibility, there I was, on my knees, imploring her parents to keep us together.
It was to no avail. Now, don't misconstrue, her family's intention was to give me time to think over it; after all, I was just 22, and she, 24.
But my mind and heart were set. Even when she was in Manila, I never failed calling her each morning, noon and evening, telling her how much I love her, more than my life.
I guess they eventually got feed up having to answer my calls because she was brought back to my arms.
We now have three beautiful children. And though I am no saint, I tried to live up to my promise: to love her more than my life.
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