my hero

exactly four years ago, a great man died. he was not a world leader, a business tycoon, a famous scientist, nor a sports figure. you haven’t heard of him until now and you will never see a monument erected in his honor. for he was a nobody, actually. but to me, he was one of the greatest men who ever lived. he was my father.

i lost my father before i turned 25. he was in his late 70’s and he died of chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (copd). here’s a little trivia regarding this disease. copd, affecting both men and women, results from damage of lungs over many years. the average person with copd is 65 years and has a long history of smoking, but it can also be diagnosed to patients as young as 40 years old. doctors say copd almost always results from smoking. however, this disease does not develop to all smokers. my father was one of those unfortunate 10-15% heavy smokers who developed it. anyway, when he joined our creator, i was too relieved to feel grief. having lived a long and good life, it was already his time and at least his sufferings and sacrifices were now gone.

my earliest memory with my dad was when he went home one day with two guilty-looking boys. these youngsters were caught stealing stuffs in our neighbor’s sari-sari store. i was at the veranda that time, aimlessly watching passersby when i heard raised voices coming from our sala. naturally, i eavesdropped. although i could no longer recall the details of this small-scale robbery, i vividly remember how my father reprimanded them for such act. as the barrio captain of our locality, it was part of his duty to ensure peace and order in our neighborhood. to my very young mind (i think i was still a toddler then), it meant something else – authority and power. thus, i grew up admiring and fearing him. it was then that i realized i better not mess up with him. and i'd like to believe i succeeded in doing just that. to my knowledge, i haven’t given him any head-splitting migraines while he was still alive.

as a farmer, my late father loved the farm so much that he wanted all his children to share his passion by exposing us to farm work. that is why, i used to dread summer vacations. it presented him the perfect opportunity not to hire extra help in our farm by making use of his children's free services. lazy as i am, i dared not complain because everyone in the family got to help anyway. there were no exceptions – unless if one got sick which in my case happened very occasionally. so, while kids my age were playing in the town’s plaza, i was busy shooing away mayas in our ricefields. while my classmates enrolled in dancing classes or went out on trips, i was tending our vegetable gardens, growing camote and balanghoy. i had to wake up early during weekdays since my father never ran out of tasks for us. there was always one after the other, almost always under the heat of the sun.

although i didn’t find it fun at that time, i became responsible and independent at a very young age. those experiences taught me the values of hardwork, accountability and discipline. looking back now, those moments in the farm were actually priceless, happy memories.

my father was a man of few words but the impact he has made in my life can’t be explained and described in many words. what i am now, i greatly owe to him. if not for his hard work and dedication, i would never have been here writing this blog. he may have passed away already, but i will forever hold his memory dear in my heart. my father, my hero, and today is his death anniversary.