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I just saw a movie entitled, World’s Greatest Dad. It was a 2009 black comedy starred by Robin Williams. The movie was interesting because for the life of me I didn’t expect it to turn out the way it did.

It was about a typical teenager, Kyle, who didn’t appreciate his dad. A teenager who was growing to be such a perv. In fact, he died while masturbating. His dad made it look like he committed suicide and wrote a suicide note for him. The note got published and everyone in school suddenly seemed to like the boy. His dad became very popular too. He even wrote a journal and claimed that Kyle wrote it and that got published as well. Everyone claimed that Kyle was sweet and kind even if he was not all those while he was alive. The principal wanted to dedicate the school library to him. The same principal who wanted to expel Kyle for falling behind in school.

The story somehow is very real in its own way. How we treat death and the memory of our loved ones. We somehow want to treasure the good things and keep it with us always. The sad part is, our memories are only as good as it gets. Sometimes it gets a bit hazy and we make up our own. Trying to live in a pristine and perfect world where reality couldn’t get to us and the fond memories we’ve shared. Sometimes we fill in the gaps. We may even embellish with a few details here and there — perhaps a wish for the might-have-beens. For me, it’s something good. An escapism from the pain. An anesthetic that makes one cope with reality.

How much of what I remember is real? Maybe 70 or 80 percent? As years go by, maybe even less. But I don’t care because for me, they’re real and that’s what matters.

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