Daddylo

I remember your toothless grin.

I remember how you used to giggle at the slightest of things.

Do you remember the times when I used to rest my palms on your bald head and call it bolang krystal? Or the times when we mused over your veins that snaked over your strong arms?

Do you remember when you used to carry me on your back and we'd laugh about something only the two of us knew?

I was your first grandchild, and Mommy used to tell me you used to hide me from the youth at church. Do you remember? The youth always barged in the parsonage after their fellowship and you would run me upstairs because you didn't want them to take turns kissing my chubby cheeks.

I was your first grandchild, and I remember you built a highchair for me where I'd happily sit whenever I devour spoonfuls of the experimental porridge Mommylo used to make. Do you remember?

I was your first grandchild, and I can never recall a moment when you didn't play your hand-made ukelele. You said nobody taught you music, so you made your own.


I remember.


I remember the times you and Mommylo would spend the whole day talking about something only the two of you seemed to know. It makes me smile, you know. Then I decided that if ever I'm going to marry somebody, he's going to be a lot like you -- somebody who I could spend the rest of my life with, and still never run out of things to talk about.

I remember how you loved to massage Mommylo's pained legs and how you treated her extra special as if you were still courting her. I remember how the two of you used to whisper to each other as if you were sharing a secret the world didn't know.

I remember how we used to have family devotionals that would last for hours, that Anne would sometimes doze off before we even finish. I remember how we always racked our brains for memory verses whenever you asked us to. Then you'd tell us stories. You always loved to tell stories. I remember. I'd miss them.

I'd miss how you always taught me how to debate and how your eyes sparkled whenever Mommy says I'm going to be a lawyer. I remember the proud smile plastered on your face when I asked for your book on the Civil Code. I remember how you paused when I told you about Bible School. And I remember how you patted my back afterwards and mumbled something incomprehensible.


I remember you wake up early each morning and sing hymns with Mommylo with your raspy voice. I remember how your eyes seem to dance whenever you talk about Jesus. I remember how you used to give me sermons with a singsong tone. I remember how you didn't want me to do the dishes. I remember how you insisted to do it yourself.

I was supposed to tour you around the world, wasn't I, Dad? I'm sorry you had to leave so soon. I'm sorry you wouldn't be able to witness the Lord's plan for me. I wanted you to know first. I wanted to see your smile when you see me following the Lord's will. I wanted to. I even wanted my children to learn from you.


I'd miss you, Dad. I'd miss how your eyes disappeared whenever you smile. I'd miss your smile wrinkles at the corners of your eyes. I'd miss your stubby toes that dig itself through the warm soil you used to till. I'd miss your sandpaper hands that would let themselves rest on my lap whenever you talk to me about the treasures in life. I'd miss how your prominent nose twitches whenever somebody compliments your son. I'd miss your smile -- the sweetest one I had ever seen.


I'd miss how you used to say you love me. I miss you.

You would forever be in my heart, Dad. Someday, I'm going to join you up there. Yes, with the Lord's help, I am going to finish this race just like you. I know if you were still here, you'd have your toothless grin on display again. And I'd love that.


Thank you, Daddylo...for everything. I love you. So much. So, so much.


Love,
Aine