Posts Tagged ‘Dad’s birthday’

“For some, life lasts a short while but the memories it holds last forever.

Every year during Dad’s birthday and anniversary, I would find myself blogging about him. If he were alive today, he would have been 99 years old.

Yes, the memories linger like they happened only yesterday. I miss the stories, the life lessons you taught us the values you shared but most of all ….I MISS YOU….still.


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My dad would have turned 98 years old today. It’s going thirteen years now since we lost him but he still stand tall in the recess of my mind. Yes, a beautiful memory that would last a lifetime. And it’s been more than a decade now that I’ve been blogging about him, a tribute to a man whom I called DAD.

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10401954_924312577592771_2347683313099135030_nIf he were alive today, he could have been 96. He left us ten years ago. Until now, there is still that void that I feel with his passing. Sometimes, I could still  imagine him reading the daily news from cover to cover. It was always his pastime  so when he was alive, I made it a point to have a daily supply of the newspaper in our place.

I miss those days when he would recall how he struggled  in early life so he could find a nice job to support the family. My three siblings and I all  went to his favorite university where he worked for more than thirty years.  I miss those afternoon when we would take coffee and light snack and he would recall the earlier days of his life, the hardship of being a working student, those times he was away from his parents and siblings  while he worked in the city. I don’t remember his mom, my grandmother.  She died giving birth to their youngest. What I only knew  according to my grandfather was that I looked like her.

We could talk about anything under the sun. We could talk about  family members who went away to find good jobs. His two sisters and a brother (through a second marriage of my grandfather) work abroad. Two are in  Spain with their families and one resides in Japan. I am almost as old as my youngest aunt.

I miss those days when I was in high school and it was only the three of us  (my oldest brother, dad and I). My mom stayed in the province with my two younger brothers until  our youngest transferred to Manila to study when he was in grade school.  The days when he would teach me how to cook…..priceless.   He would usually drop by the wet market  after office work and he would teach me how to prepare a simple dinner.  I was not just a bystander when he was in the kitchen because he would  just instruct me what to do and watch me cook.

I miss those days when we would spend lunch together when I was in college  with one of his co-workers.  Every day, he would buy food at the UST resto  before  my class ends at 12 pm then we would share lunch.

When he got sick with ESRD and had to undergo dialysis treatment, my older brother and I accompanied him to the hospital twice a week.  The days he was bedridden after each session of dialysis, the enormous medications he had to take to stay stronger.  the graceless time he had to wear a catheter for many months, I still remember them all. My dad was a fighter. It was so painful though to watch his deteriorating health. For each session of dialysis he lost weight.

We lost him one December night ten years ago.  He may be gone from us but he still lives in my heart and the memories linger.

“The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.” 

― Elisabeth Kubler Ross (more…)

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For some life lasts a short while, but the memories it holds last forever. – Laura Swenson

If he  were   alive today, my dad would have turned 89 years old. It’s been three years since we lost him but he still stand tall in the recess of  my  mind.  Yes, a beautiful memory that would last a lifetime.  And it’s been three years now that I’ve been blogging about him, a  tribute to a man whom I called DAD.

It is always hard to remember the days when he was alive, not  because they are not worth-remembering but it’s because I sometimes cry silent tears every time I remember.   I see him at times in his favorite nook, reading the daily news from cover to cover. I see him at times smiling at me, that kind of indulgent smile that says, “I believe in what you are saying.” I remember the days when I was in high school and it was only the three of us (my eldest brother, Dad and I)  when he would come home after work with a small shopping bag in his hands and I would eagerly look inside on what dinner will be for the three of us.  I learned my first lesson in cooking through him.  It was because of his encouragement that I  learned to devour books.  He taught me how to be self-reliant and independent, always with the thought that one should never be ashamed of hardships in life because somehow those circumstances will teach us responsibility. “Success does not happen overnight“, he would say, success comes when you know the sacrifice of striving harder.

I vividly remember this, it happened when he was still strong enough to share what he went through to finish his studies and be employed in a learning institution that up to now is first on my list of schools in the country.   We were having a casual conversation one afternoon, quietly sipping coffee with him and mom when a  ice cream vendor passed by near our gate.  Then he told me this story, when he was new here in Manila, he also did odd jobs just to survive and finance his studies.

“Ginawa ko rin yan”, he said.

“Ang alin Dad?” I asked.

“Magtinda ng ice cream sa kariton, parang ganyan”,  at the same time pointing to the ice cream vendor that has just passed by.

Back then, he was living in Balic-balic with an uncle  and other relatives.  In those times,  Ayala  Avenue was still undeveloped and it was there that he would go three times a week to sell ice cream.  I didn’t know that part of his life until that afternoon  and I was so touched, I was silently crying inside.  I was more  proud of him and when he died I  recalled  that  story to his younger siblings  and my brothers.  I was privileged to share  that particular phase in his life that they didn’t know about.

When my  daughter graduated from  college,  they were left at the house  because the  entrance tickets at PICC were only good for four persons. When we came home, Nissa proudly put her Magna  Cum Laude medal around his neck then to  mom next.  He was so proud of my daughter, I saw his  tears of joy.  We were all laughing at the same time.

Today is also the Feast Day of Senor Sto. Nino, what a nice day to celebrate his 89th birthday.   My daughter  also offered mass for him this morning.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD, wherever you are, I know you are happy with the Lord.

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