When Everything Fails (De Chavez #2)

EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE

KEI ALEXANDER DE CHAVEZ

SUCCESS.

This world drove people to do better, to improve, to jump into the sea of uncertainties. Some made strategies to have this. And some made a reckless gamble. But how did people define success? Was it defined by the luxury bag clinging to your woman? Was it defined by the blinding glints of silver and gold clinging dangerously around your body? Was it defined by the education you attained? Or was it defined by the contentment you feel after the long excruciating trial?

Success was subjective. It was defined based on how people perceived it. We had different perspectives, thus, we had a different definition of success.

At an early age, I was taught about success came from the title associated with your name. The respect you get from people around you. The money you made for a living. That perspective had instilled in my mind at a very you age. My father was a ruthless tycoon, a strategic businessman who made everything he handled successful.

At an early age, I was mesmerized by him. I looked up to him. I wanted to follow in his footsteps, I would always say to myself.

This goal had driven me to make everything perfect. To not settle for less. I strived harder to make him proud. I got lots of awards during my preschool year but I was not content. I wanted to make Papa proud. To be just like him in the future— or to be more than him. That was what he liked; what he dreamed of for me.

Bellamy, my cousin, would always tease me of being a puppet of my father. I just ignored him because we were raised in different households. His father was a laid-back man. He was successful, I knew but he was more carefree than my father who devoted himself to work.

To prove to him that I was like him, I agreed to study away from them. I studied in Manila even though they settled in La Union. My grandmother was the one who looked after me. My grandmother, Mary, was the total opposite of my parents. She was not strict. She let me have some time to play even though I opted not to do so. It was waste of time. But she just gave me her throaty chuckle and teased me for being just like my parents.

"You know, Kei, honey, enjoy your childhood. You are missing something wonderful." She would say to me when we were alone in my study room.

I shrugged nonchalantly, "I want to be my father. I want to be just like him."

She smiled and patted my head, "You can be just like him and you can enjoy your life at the same time."

Some told my parents that the way I thought was not appropriate for my age or to the others of my age. I was thinking broadly, contemplating maturely. My parents knew about it and they were fine with it. I was fine with it. I didn't like to be normal just like the other kids. They were messy, reckless, and impulsive. They chose toys instead of books. They chose procrastination rather than studying. They chose to play rather than reading.

"How can I be just like him if what I do is play with toys?" I asked, placing the book I was reading. I rubbed my eyes using the heels of my palms.

She smiled, "Childhood is the most wonderful years in our lives, Kei. Enjoy it. Do what other kids your age do."

"I enjoy reading books, Granny."

"But have you ever tried to do what kids do, Kei?"

I shook my head, "I haven't tried, nor had I thought about it."

She shook her head and tousled my hair, "You are missing a lot of things in your life, my boy." She smiled and rose to her feet, "Go to your room and get dressed. We are going out for today."