How does a son bid goodbye to a departed father?

Tomorrow, I shall bury the man who was my father, a teacher for decades, a soldier, veteran, warrior, and defender of our country's freedom.

He has not been a perfect father, but given his unique circumstances, he did his best, and we his children believe his best was enough for us. He was the youngest boy among seven siblings. He was a happy-go-lucky boy from the town who was married in his early twenties to a mountain village girl two years younger. My father was lucky that my mom was the eldest in a farm family of eight children. As the eldest, she was very responsible, which was a perfect complement to the rather playful and childlike behavior of my late father.

But my father, under the guidance and initiatives of my mother, learned to struggle in the cornfields, plow the farm, plant corn, harvest crops and coconuts, and take care of carabaos, cows, goats, and chickens. He loved my mother so much that he produced 18 children all in all, with me as the eldest. We lived in a barrio with no running water. I had to go and fetch water in the spring down the mountain and carry the water to be used in drinking and cooking in bamboo tubes. For baths, all of us, including my young siblings, had to walk two kilometers to the spring. My father taught me to survive a hard life and difficulties.

There was no electricity in the mountain village in Langin, Ronda, where we lived for twelve years, and so my parents taught me to study under the light of a kerosene lamp. My father never complained considering that he was a boy from downtown. I left our house at age 12 and worked as janitor in the city where I studied. My father never made me feel that I was lesser than the children of the well-to-do families. He was not very expressive. I never even heard him say to me “I love, you, son.” But now that he is gone, in contemplation, I realized that he was not a very bad father. He did his best and yes, his best was also enough for me.

Because my father did not give me a comfortable life, because he did not send me to college and I did it on my own, I grew up to be a very responsible person. I showered my children with all the things that I had been deprived of. I supported my sons and daughters all the way, even beyond their marriage. My father never did it for me. But the reason why I am what I am now is because my father never gave me any of the things I am giving my own kids. No, I do not blame him now. He was a great soldier, an amazing teacher, and an awardee of the US Congressional Medal of Honor. I am proud of him.

I shall bid him goodbye with joy and gratitude. I thank him for giving me a very hard and burdensome childhood. Because those were the very reasons that made me tough, determined, and brave.

Thank you, Papa, and I wish I could have told you even once that I loved you, even in my own silent and distant ways.