Today, I read a touching post about a grandma patiently waiting for her grandkids to reach home through the Uber app, and it reminded me deeply of my father. My dad had a unique kind of patience. Every time one of us was late coming home from school or anywhere else, there he was, waiting. He seemed to have a calmness that only dads possess. His excitement for our school events always topped ours—every single time. With our mom working far away, it was always him at our school activities, whether it was recollections, graduations, or anything in between. I remember seeing him in the crowd during processions, his eyes tracking us the whole way. Some of our relatives used to tease us, saying he was so strict because he didn't want anyone chasing after us. Maybe they were right, but to us, he was just being protective. Every Tuesday and Thursday, like clockwork, he'd wake us up early for holy mass. More than being just a school requirement—it was his way of strengthening our faith, something he valued deeply even though he was born a Seventh-day Adventist but raised us as Catholics. Despite his tough exterior, he surprised us by quoting Bible verses when we least expected it. Those moments would always make us smile; it was a side of him that didn't match his tough dad image. He called us his princesses, and to us, he was nothing short of a king. When I moved to Manila for my studies, and later when I started teaching at a university, he’d visit me. He’d bring food, and we’d spend time together after my classes. I could see the pride in his eyes—I was one of the youngest instructors at the university, and he loved telling everyone about it. My sister wasn't left out of his caring gestures either. Working at a local bank, she'd find our dad waiting with a meal for her, ready to drive her home each afternoon. Our dad was our biggest fan and supporter, always there, always watching over us. Even now, years after he’s gone, I still feel his presence in those moments of quiet patience and unwavering support. When life gets tough, I close my eyes and remember his calm, steady gaze, his protective embrace, and the way he made us feel like princesses. His memory is always my guiding light, reminding me of the depth of his love and the strength of his spirit. Dad, you were, and always will be, our king. Happy Father’s Day, Sarge.
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HappinessMy happiness comes from the people who believe in me and inspire me every day. They are my strength.
Life is a beautiful, fleeting journey. Despite the challenges, I see beauty and miracles everywhere. Growing up was tough, but my Dad was my beacon of hope. He taught me to believe in myself and to embrace life's limitless possibilities. His lessons and spirit guide me still. I lost him years ago, but I carry his memory everywhere I go, hoping he's proud of me—as I've always been of him. I promised him I'd live life to the fullest. Now, I find joy in writing, traveling, and simply living, cherishing each moment. This, I believe, is something we all should embrace: finding happiness in every part of life. Archives
October 2024
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