Dad.

My father would have been 61 years old this year. He would have been doting on his granddaughter "Gellie" for over 2 years now, and he would have enjoyed every moment of it. This was our last family picture, taken New Years day, 1983. My Mom took this photo of me and my siblings with our Dad. Seven months later, my father would succumb to a heart attack and changed our lives altogether.

I always wonder how come I remember vividly the events on that night. It was a Friday, 19th of August 1983. I don't remember him coming home from work at the usual hour that he does. Maybe, he was with his officemates unwinding after a whole week at work. I only remember waking up as I heard my Mom trying to wake him up. I also recall trying to help her, though she would later say that I was asleep the whole time. Looking out the window, my Mom rush my father to the hospital only to be pronounce D.O.A. I fell asleep waiting for them to return. When I awoke, my Lola and other relatives were already at our house. It was 5 am. My Mom, in all her grace told me na "wala na ang Daddy mo" while trying to keep her composure. I was 10 years old, our youngest who just celebrated his 1st birthday a month ago, was still asleep.

My younger sister and I was fetched around 11am to go to the funeral home where we would spend the next few days. My other sister went with my Tita to inform ny Dad's mother in Malabon. 1983 was a dreadful year for our family. a month back, a grandmother passed away just when my cousins came back from the U.S. She just waited for their return after having been in the hospital for a month. My Father was the one who answered the phone when Lola Maya died. In December that same year, mom's father also died while vacationing at his eldest home in Las Piñas. It was only a year before when my brother and 2 other cousins were born, all in one year. Maybe heaven ran out of souls because one year hence, 3 members of our family died, all in one year also. My Dad was transfered at the church in the town were he grew up before his internment. My father was laid to rest at about the same time as Ninoy's burial, making me think that the whole country was mourning as our family mourned.

On the 15th, my Dad would have turned 61. Here's a Happy, Happy Birthday to you.