We happened to cross paths at a peculiar time of my life, to say the least. I was 19 years old, living my life hustling and trying to be a good boy at the same time. We’d just moved to the Philippines to be with my mother’s side of the family. My father was dealing with a lot of bullshit in Brooklyn, so he thought, “What hell? They probably don’t speak English there, anyway.” No one would do some digging about who he really was.
What my father showed you when we were together was sincere and real. He treated you like he was his own daughter, and you leaving was heavy for him, too. He always asked about you, and he never fails to blame me for how our marriage just went right down the shitter. Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about Pops.
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