My earliest memory of Papa is of him sitting on the side of his and mommy’s bed, in the early morning hours when it was still dark, praying. He left all of us a legacy of faith.
It was at his side I learned how to sing the Filipino Pasion, which according to Wikipedia, is an epic narrative, in poem, of the life of Jesus Christ, focused on his Passion, Death, and Resurrection. He and my mom would sing it as part of their Lenten penance, throughout all of Lent, sometimes losing their voices along the way.
He led us in praying the Rosary every evening, a faith tradition that my husband and I now continue in our own family. My 22-year-old will forever hear Papa’s voice reciting the Litany of Loreto from memory, to finish off the Rosaries that we prayed with him.
Our parents took us on trips abroad, including pilgrimages to Fatima and Lourdes, which gave us more opportunities to enjoy each other’s company as well as to grow in faith. I could go on with more examples. Suffice it to say, Papa lived a life of prayer, starting and ending his days in conversation with the Lord.
It was from this wellspring of faith that he drew grace, courage, and strength, to do everything that he did. And he was always doing something for others. He taught us genuine charity and generosity, giving up his inheritance to help his sick sister, and welcoming my mom’s youngest siblings into our home while they attended university.
Our family gatherings would not be the same without him. In the Philippines he was the ice cream man, providing the cones and gallons of ice cream that my cousins and I would fight over. When we moved to the US, he became the mahjong man. Several of you here had the pleasure of spending hours with him at the mahjong table. He loved playing, but I always found it entertaining when he did all the calculations for everyone at the end.
His love of numbers was legendary, and extended to everything, including doing his income tax returns by hand. Before there was Dave Ramsey, there was Papa, teaching us about financial discipline and delayed gratification. My husband Bong and my brother Chris accompanied him on car hunting expeditions. He liked paying for cars in cash.
Many of you may not know this, but his first love was actually education. He wanted to be a teacher. But at the urging of his sister he became an accountant instead, and he was good at it! He loved numbers so much that a couple of his last days were spent balancing his bank account. You might think, what a strange way to spend one’s last days, but while he was doing that, he was whistling and humming. He was in his element. Numbers made him happy.
So happy that he would take great pleasure in surprising people when he greeted them on their birthdays and remembered even their spouses’ birthdays, their children’s birthdays and often, even their zip codes… and if you were an intimate enough friend to tell him, your weight. He was a kind man, but he also had a wicked sense of humor. He was always cracking jokes.
Just the other night, Mommy went to bed laughing, because while going through Papa’s things, we had found a whole envelope of printouts — of jokes and other funny stories that he had gathered.
We sorely miss Papa’s music. He filled our home with his singing: Filipino folk songs, popular music from the 40s through the 60s, even the occasional Broadway tune. He danced all five of my babies to sleep while humming these, and sometimes, his own made up, often silly, creations. My brother Joe reminds us that he even taught us how to whistle for the wind.
Being Filipino, this narrative of his life wouldn’t be complete without mention of food. Though in our youth it was Mommy who made our meals, when he retired, Papa became King of the Kitchen. Not only did he have hot arroz caldo waiting for us when we arrived late at night from Cincinnati, my brother and I also, on occasion, received adobo by mail, something my kids looked forward to with relish. He did it simply because he knew we loved it.
Papa was a simple man. He didn’t care much for appearances; he just did what needed doing. He lived a hard life in his younger years, working odd jobs to support himself through college. When life became harder in the Philippines, he packed us up and brought us here. At 58 he had to start over, walking long distances and taking buses, to apply for jobs he was overqualified for, just to provide for us.
We learned much from him about hard work. But my sons I think prize above all the dating and courtship advice he gave them. If his memory and love of numbers were legendary, his love for Mommy even more so.
There are a million more memories i could share, but our shared favorite is waking up in the middle of the night to him and Mommy talking and laughing. As my brother Chris puts it, it was as if the hours throughout the day were still not enough for them to revel in each other’s company, even after they were both retired.
Papa and Mommy, more than anything, were our best examples of lifelong love enfleshed. They showed us that love wasn’t just a word you uttered, but a commitment, manifested in everything you did. They loved each other much, and they loved each other well.
I would like to end with a quote from the book The Fulfillment of All Desire, by Ralph Martin, where he writes about St. Catherine of Siena.
I take comfort in that quote whenever I think of our faithful departed, and now Papa. And so we say goodbye to Papa for now, but always with the hope of being reunited with him one day, in that place where there are no more tears and no more pain, only joy with our Lord, the Author of all Life.
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