My father's secret

Mom made an essay just this morning. We are in a period of mourning, you see, as my grandfather is, we think, near his death.

I can't show my emotions that well right now, and I'm suprised with how I hide what I truly feel. I act as if nothing's happening, when in fact my mom's crying in front of me since last night. I want to cry; I want to tell my grandfather how much he means to me. It's only now that I realize how much I love him.

Please pray for my grandfather. Pray that, if he dies, he will be peaceful.

Here is my mom's essay. Sorry if there are typos, btw:

MY FATHER’S SECRET

I am in my 40’s and I grew up in a typical middle-class huge family. You see, I have 7 more siblings. But this article isn’t about me. It’s about my father.

He is now 80 years old. He used to be a soldier of the defunct Philippine Constabulary (now known as Philippine National Police). As a salute to his accomplishments, I am writing this article.

My father is a calm, silent and peace-loving person. Maybe because of that, he wasn’t very much “noticed” beside my mom who is the more dominant, aggressive type. All I could remember before was that he was a very good provider and a good father to us. Good, meaning we weren’t spanked or shouted at. That was my mom’s job, which she did excellently. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mom, but I guess it was needed for us to grow up toeing the line. There were 8 of us remember? Going back to my father, I just couldn’t imagine how he did it; sending all of us to good schools (private schools from high school to college), providing for our needs, building a moderately big house and giving us a comfortable existence, all on a soldier’s meager salary because my mom was not working. Who could beat that? In today’s time, having a kid in suburban manila would take practically all our waking hours away from home and focused on work. Most of my growing up years though, my father was away frequently as part and parcel of being a soldier. My mom decided to stay put in one place to give us “roots”, so to speak.

We didn’t mind that father was away, and I guess we really didn’t miss him because the provisions were all there for us to take. Little did we know that he was risking his life and limb for our country and for his family. He was (in his younger years) always assigned in the battlefields of Jolo and Cotabato. We didn’t know that because he didn’t see any need to worry us. Everytime he comes home, we were all very excited and happy mainly because of the “pasalubongs”. Me and my siblings thought that it was a normal set-up. In later years, he was finally assigned in the office for administrative job.

Fast forward to the present. I am in Manila making a home and a career. Admittedly, I also don’t honestly feel the absence of my parents, especially my father because I’m used to not having him around, but it doesn’t take away the fact that I love dearly both of my parents. We, as a family are not demonstrative but we are close. My father is in his 80’s and getting weak. These past few weeks saw him taken frequently to the doctor due to allergies, cough, chest pains and other ailments. Yesterday, as relayed to me by my sister, he called her to say that he needs to talk to her about something very important. That is RARE. My sister had the time so they sat down and my father talked about his life from the 1930’s, how they lived in the mountains because of the war, how the war affected them and how he became a soldier. According to him, in 1937, his father (a pure Chinese national) gathered his children and said that the young generation is unfortunate because they will fall on hard times, that they will have to go to the mountains to live because there will be a big war. The way his father said it, they were made to understand that he will not be with them, so one of the brothers asked, will you not be going with us? His father said no, then again the brother said, we will take you even if we have to carry you, we will not leave you behind, then his father said, I will not be with you because I will already die before the war breaks. True enough, in 1939, my grandfather died and world war 2 broke out in the 40’s. That’s eerie. Then my father narrated how he left home to pursue his dream of becoming a soldier even against his family’s will. He arrived in Cag de Oro, a total stranger with nowhere to stay and very little money, sometimes sleeping under the bridge, under the trees and feeding on fruits from trees he passed by. Then one afternoon he fell asleep on a tree branch exhausted, when he was suddenly awaken by something, he saw smoke and he thought the owner must have built a fire beneath the tree (as was the practice of making the tree produce more fruit by enveloping it with smoke every afternoon), but the smoke took on a different form, it became the figure of his father, faced him and said “since you are so bent on becoming a soldier even against your mother’s and siblings’ wishes, I will help you, then his father gave him instructions of what to do and where to pass thru (as he had no papers, he will be arrested if he enters the premises of the camp) so he will be able to meet some soldiers that will help him. Despite his naturalized citizenship and lack of height and hundreds of applicants (390), my father was one of the 80 who passed the screening and the rest is history. He added that during one of the encounters in the battlefield, his comrade beside him got hit but held on to him and implored him not to leave him. Then, the other one on his other side got hit also and also asked him not to leave him. My father promised both of them that he will not leave them. Interestingly, they were rescued before he ran out of bullets. He said, in all battles he participated in the field, not one bullet hit him and he believes that this was because my grandfather was watching over him.These parts of the story we knew because he told us when we were little. According to my sister, on the part of my father’s story that my grandfather appeared to him, he started crying. My sister was alarmed because he never saw my father cry before. At this point, my father said that finally, after decades, he will be able to share his secret, a secret he dearly kept to his heart all these years. He decided it to be now because according to him, he has been hearing his father’s voice for the past 2 weeks urging him to relay his message now. My sister was already apprehensive of what my father will reveal and wild thoughts were coming to her already like, he has another family, or that he has defective genes he may have unwillingly transmitted to us his children? Then my father said that after my grandfather told him the details of how to enlist as a soldier, he told him the secret which he must share to his loved ones, and which my father didn’t, until this minute. He said “My father said, I have come as the Father sent me to help you…son, remember this, there is a God and man has Soul”. That is the secret I am relaying to you, no more, no less. After this, my father heaved a sigh (as if relieved), and added, “truth comes out from the lips of a dying man”. All the while, my sister did not cry although she was undergoing a gamut of emotions, but listened intently. She casually said “are you telling me pa that you are about to die?”: goodness, what a conversation this has turned out to be. My father replied “I am just relaying to you what my father said, no more, no less”.

Which takes me in a retrospective mood. Come to think of it, I never really “bonded” with my father. Us, their children, were taken cared of and nurtured and when we grew up, earned our own money, got busy with our careers; we tend to be critical of them. I can almost hear myself saying “Don’t be pasaway and do what the doctors tell you; follow your medicine dosage; etc. etc. etc. Treating them like they don’t know any better because now they are under our care and we feel responsible for them, thinking we are the wiser ones..As my sister so aptly put it, “Who am I to talk to him like this? What have I done in life that can come even close to what he had accomplished? My life experience which I thought was fraught with challenges and which I have successfully hurdled is just a mere speck of all he underwent and achieved. Then regrets….. But it’s never too late to mend our ways and dealings with our parents.

Now, why did my father told my sister his secret? Maybe he saw us already too busy to care and too full of ourselves, our careers, our material things. Maybe this is his way of taking us back to Christ and saving our souls. Maybe this is his way of tapping us on the shoulders to say “hey, look beyond yourself”. And then again maybe, this is his way of saying goodbye and leaving us a legacy beyond all the wealth in this world. As shared by my sister, “I know we have doubts as to the existence of God, especially now that we are bombarded with articles and press releases casting doubt on His Divinity and existence…papa’s sharing have steered me back to that faith in my Creator which have strongly influenced my life and my decisions..my dear father..always looking after his children and trying to save their souls..”

All I know now is that I terribly miss my dad.