November 15, 2012


I was only 11 years old when my dad passed away but I had fond memories of my Tatay.  I look like him, for one, as we are both pango and I am his favorite.  I am the son he never had.  But growing up with my Tatay then was not easy because he was sick, and we were poor and I was young and helpless.
 Now, 24 years later, how I wish that he met his son-in-laws and wonderful grand kids   He would love them to bits, I am sure.  My sons were born March and November, his birth and death months.  And I know that he was looking after me when I gave birth to my sons because he very much wanted a son to carry his name.  And my kids will forever carry his bloodline, if not his surname.
Wala lang, this post is just because I miss him all of a sudden. To all of you who still have your father with you, please tell them you love them. While you still have a chance to say it to them.

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