I have a lot of fond memories of my late Dad. Of course, not all memories are probably worth reminiscing, and if we had a choice, there are certain memories which we’d rather bury. But for me, those memories – good and bad – are made even more precious now that he is gone.
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| Daddy and his pouty little girl. Trip to Baguio, 1976 |
If I were describe a specific memory with my Dad that is fondest to me, it would be the time when I got back from Baguio during the Holy Week of 1995. I was spending the Holy Week in Baguio with my Mom and cousin, but I had to make an emergency trip back because I went down with chickenpox. (I know, I know, I was a late bloomer!) Prior to the trip, Daddy and I were not on speaking terms because he had just found out about my relationship with Baggy. I kept it as a secret from the rest of my family because I was afraid that they would not be able to accept him. He was very mad at me, and he was really hurt because I had somehow “betrayed” his trust.
When Dad opened the door to our house that night when I arrived, he gave me that dagger look which sort of demanded, “What the heck are you doing here?“