soft grumbles

Today's my father's birthday. He would have been 90. He died on February 14, 1983 of a heart attack. Although he's been dead for 21 years now, my memory of him is still very vivid. Why not? We spent a lot of time together. I remember that when he was teaching me to swim, we would go practically every Saturday to different places like Laguna, Bulacan, and most memorable of all, was "shooting the rapids" at Pagsanjan Falls. Just the two of us. My siblings by that time were already married except for Ate Beckie who was in college.

I still recall the time when I wanted to join a religious group called "Legion of Mary". The leaders of the group went to ask for my parents' permission to join them. They were all astonished when my dad said, "I think my son is old enough to decide for himself." And I was only 10 at the time.

I also remember that everytime I would hold my guitar and start playing classical music, which I was trying to learn, he would sit in front of me and listen, not saying anything, but just listened.

He worked hard, even going to the office on Sundays just so I could have the best education available.

My only regret is that my father never knew what became of me. Yes, he died when I was already working for several months at De La Salle University as a Graphic Artist, but he never knew that things progressed and that I have been teaching for twenty years now. A lot different from that crazy young teen-ager he knew who kept giving him headaches, at one time contemplating to stop because of wanting to work and be independent, etc...

I also regret that he never got to meet any of my kids, or even my wife, who I believe he would have been fond of. He treated all my friends well.


After his death, while we were sorting out his papers, I noticed a letter to someone we visited in Pangasinan when I was three years old. The letter started with an introduction from my father and it stated something like this: "Dear _____. I am the father of the family that stayed in your place to celebrate your town fiesta. My son, Rolly, is in Grade three and is learning how to write a letter. If you could spare a few time and encourage him by responding, I shall be indebted to you. Below is his letter which I copied verbatim. Please don't fail him. Thank you very much" Well, something like that. And the woman did reply. I know I kept that letter although it will take sometime before I find it. Needless to say that while I was reading this letter, I was crying, longing to feel my father's arms around me once again, the same way he did upon my return from my first camping trip in Baguio.

Happy birthday dad.