Coming home to bury my father
It is not an easy task to preside over the procedure of laying to rest a father barely two years or so, after I also led the sad and heavy task of burying my mom, in the mausoleum that I prepared for them in Ronda, 81 kilometers south of Cebu City. My father passed away in the first week of February in Fife City, some 25 south of Seattle in Washington State. He was a bemedalled veteran of World War II and a distinguished awardee of the US Congressional Medal of Honor. He was wounded in combat and fought for the liberation of the Philippines against Japan. I am burying a hero on Araw ng Kagitingan, April 9.
It has been a long and hard journey for my father, Leonor (he was given a female's name because his parents expected a girl) Quirante Jimenez, Puentevella, Marinas, y Paras. He died at the ripe age of 94, after siring no less than 18 children, but only eight of us survived due to the hardships and poverty of living in the remote hinterlands, with no access to affordable medical and hospital services. My father was in his early twenties when he married my mother who was two years younger. We lived in a cogon and bamboo hut in the middle of a cornfield with no running water or electricity.
My parents tried to finish their four-year course in the city, leaving me to take care of my five younger siblings. I multitasked going to school and taking care of the farm, the carabaos, cows, goats, and chickens, while making sure my brothers and sisters are fed, clothed, and protected. After my parents completed their studies, they started to teach in different mountain villages, hence, we transferred our residence, five times while I went to the city to study while working as janitor at age 12. I finished my studies on my own. Then I worked on the papers of my father as a war veteran, and all my five younger siblings are now US citizens.
I come home to Ronda today to bury my father. And in his necrology, I shall tell him: “Papa, I have done my tasks. My siblings are grown. They have work, careers and families. And I shall bury your remains with a sense of pride and accomplishments. As eldest son, I had been ‘wounded and scarred in the battlefields of life,’ just as you were wounded defending our country from the enemy. You had a country to defend. I have our family to protect and care for. We have done our respective duties with valor and faithfulness. I have not been a perfect son, but I have done my best.
“Papa, you died a hero. I salute you and love you. Your memory is a part of me. Goodbye. Till we meet again.”
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