Wednesday, May 19, 2004
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.
Hey, My name is Jim, I also lost my Dad. It was about 10 years ago. Still hurts. The hardest part about missing him is my lack of memories. I now also have a wife and two beautiful daughters whom he would have loved dearly. At any rate I am sorry for your loss. It sounds like you had a wonderful loving father. Take care!
come blog with me sometime