Scrambled Egg and Ketchup

Today, I miss him so much.
I told my sister during our video chat. It just slipped out. I said, “I miss him… a bit terribly.”
And then I laughed right after, like I always do when something feels too heavy.
But it stayed there. That feeling.
I think what I really wanted to say was… I wish I knew if I made him proud.
And then, for some reason, my mind went back to that day.
Makati. Office. That version of me I don’t visit often.
I had just passed the pharmacy board exam. Everyone around me was celebrating, moving forward, starting their careers. And I was paused. I couldn’t get my license yet. I wasn’t 21.
So instead of being a pharmacist, I became a medical indexer.
I remember telling myself it was temporary. That it was just a waiting room. But you know how waiting can feel… like you’re watching everyone else’s life move while yours is buffering.
Lunch breaks were quiet.
I didn’t really have a group yet. Or maybe I just didn’t try hard enough. I would go to the canteen, find a corner, and sit there like it was my assigned seat.
My usual food was scrambled eggs. Fried. With ketchup.
I don’t know why that detail sticks. Maybe because it says a lot without saying anything. Tipid. Simple. No thinking required.
That day, I was eating alone again. Same corner. Same plate.
I think I was tired. Not physically. Just that kind of tired where you don’t question things anymore. You just go through them.
Then I looked up.
And there he was.
My dad.
No warning. No message. Nothing.
He was just there, standing in the canteen like he had always belonged there. Looking around until he found me.
I remember feeling confused first.
Like… why is he here?
Then he saw me.
And he smiled.
That quiet smile. The kind that doesn’t ask anything from you. The kind that just says, okay ka lang ba?
He walked over and sat with me.
And suddenly, I wasn’t alone anymore.
I wish I could remember what we talked about. I really do.
Maybe he asked about work. Maybe he asked if I was okay. Maybe I said yes, even if I wasn’t fully sure.
I don’t remember the words.
But I remember how it felt.
He didn’t come to see a pharmacist.
He didn’t come to see someone successful.
He came to see me.
That version of me. The one who felt a little lost. A little behind. A little unsure.
The one eating eggs with ketchup in the corner of a canteen.
And now that I think about it… maybe that was already his answer.
Because today, sitting here, miles and years away from that moment, I still find myself wondering if I made him proud.
If everything I’ve done since then, the work, the sacrifices, the trying, if it’s enough.
If I’m enough.
But then I remember that day.
He didn’t wait for me to become something before showing up.
He didn’t need me to prove anything.
He saw me exactly where I was… and he still came.
So maybe…
just maybe…
I didn’t have to become someone else for him to be proud.
Maybe he already was.