ON Sunday, July 27, I lost my hero — my father, my pillar of strength.
I am grateful for the opportunity to have visited the Philippines last June — that turned out to be the last time I would see, kiss and hug my Daddy alive. He died peacefully at 4 pm, after I said goodbye to him on the phone. He had been fighting for a month, after he had an acute stroke last June 29.
But Daddy had been fighting for a long time — for 43 years in fact — as a paralyzed man who only wanted to give the best to his family and help those in need. If you have not met my Daddy — Atty. Jose Ma. Lopez Santos — let me introduce him to you by reposting this tribute I that I wrote for him, and had been updating every birthday and Father’s Day.
Sadly, this time, it is goodbye.
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IT WAS a lazy Saturday afternoon of August 28, 1971. Atty. Jose L. Ma. Santos, my Daddy, took me and my siblings to their company swimming pool in Unilab so we could have fun. After taking a nap, Dad joined us in the pool and started teaching us the basics of swimming. We were having so much fun, Dad got excited and started to teach us how to dive. He jumped into the pool, then just stayed there submerged in water, motionless. I remember my younger siblings Pat and Joel and I were even cheering, not really understanding what was going on, “Yeheeey! Nagflo-floating si Daddy! Nagflo-floating si Daddy!”.
The lifeguard jumped in, grabbed my Dad and took him out of the pool…Then things happened so fast! People swarmed to his aid…we kids did not really know what was happening. Paramedics came, Dad was placed on a stretcher and taken by an ambulance. My siblings and I were escorted to a phone for me to call my Mom, who was at home, not feeling well as she was pregnant with our youngest sister and taking care of our younger baby brother David.
I sensed something was not right, and I did not even know what it was. When I finally got hold of Mom, all that I said was “Mommy…si Daddy nasa ospital…” and I remember being choked up and unable to speak anymore. The man who escorted us there took over and talked to my mom.
Dad stayed in the ABM Sison Hospital (now The Medical City) for more than five months. His neurosurgeon, Dr. Renato Sibayan had to drill holes on Dad’s skull to attach those weights. I was told we’re meant to align whatever and help in his recovery. Dad had those heavy metal there for sometime, and then he moved on to having daily physical therapy.
My young mind did not quite comprehend the gravity of the situation and how that day would change the life of my father and of the whole family forever. That was the last day I saw Dad walk, or drive a car, or move around without help. Dad bumped his head and injured his spine that rendered him quadriplegic from that moment on.
When I was a little girl, I viewed my dad as my father. Period. I guess that was all the realm of my understanding could comprehend.
I would have vivid images of him in my mind as a Dad before the accident—I could still picture him driving our Austin Cambridge car to church or to Lola’s house; chasing and shooting a big rat in our old house on Tecson Street in Manila; gardening in the front yard of our home in Dona Juana in Pasig; having dinner with Mom, being my “captive” audience as I tried to lipsynch Nora Aunor songs for their entertainment; clowning around dancing the “tahitian” with us seeing we had a pretty dance teacher. I’d also have memory of how Dad looked from the window of our room in Ambassador Hotel in Baguio, wearing crisp white button down shirt, tie and blazer, as he walked carrying his briefcase from a court hearing.
In grade school, Dad was my tutor—I remember him in his hospital room, trying his best to help me with homework despite his condition. He was also my great coach who motivated me to do my best in school, reminding me that if I get good grades and become first honor in school, I would be rewarded with a bike and so I studied really hard and even became competitive. He also openly wished I would take up law so I can continue his unfinished business of becoming a lawyer, although he probably saw that I wanted to talk with a microphone more.
Daddy was only 34 — he was at the peak of his manhood when that accident happened. He was a rising star in the legal profession — just starting to reap the fruits of his hard work as a working student at the UP College of Law. He was beginning to live his dreams– a good job, a lovely wife, a growing family, a new house, a pending immigration petition to work in the United States. How could fate take his dreams away?
Going through my own struggles as an adult and as a parent, I could not fathom how and where my father got all his strength and will to live. He continued fighting despite of what happened. I would ask myself if he ever felt bitter or hopeless because I don’t remember seeing him cry or give up and hide in desperation. He just fought every single day — going through therapy until he could already be discharged from the hospital…going to faith healers and miraculous shrines and praying everyday to the Mother of Perpetual Help begging, hoping for a miracle. Despite the fact that he never got to walk again, he never stopped fighting to this day. He never stopped living for my mother and for us, his five children.
He did not stay in bed and wallow in self pity. He helped Mom put up a small business, working as the cashier and bookkeeper for the dress shop and fruit stand that provided for our family’s needs through the years. In 1978, he was offered to practice his profession as a Notary Public in his Compadre’s retiring lawyer-father’s office near LTO in Quezon City. He took the offer, never ever making his disability as an excuse for him to toil for his family in whatever decent legal way possible. I was thinking he might have felt frustrated or demoted being reduced to notarizing documents and not being able to appear in court as he used to. But his devotion to his family was far bigger and stronger than his pride and ego.
I remember criticizing him for being so frugal, for being so “martyr” in denying himself of any joys in life. Now that I have experienced for myself how hard it is to raise a family, I realize he did all of those for us. He unselfishly said no to his own needs and wants, so he could make sure we had food on the table, roof on top of our head, money to pay for our tuition, and even more savings to assist us even when we were already grown up and raising our own families.
Daddy is now 77 years old, still living a purpose-driven life. He refuses to retire and keeps himself busy and continues giving employment to his staff in his own notary public office. Even when he has retired from his former office along East Avenue in Quezon City, his loyal “suki” or clients still go to him in his home office up to now.
These days his joys remain simple— when not working he enjoys resting at home, playing with his new grandkids, watching old movies and Channel 2’s teleseryes, reading the newspaper. He will forever be loyal to Chinese food, particularly pancit, mami, siopao, siomai and maki, in addition to the Pinoy favorite lechon, although he has already acquired the taste for sushi and sashimi. He is also very happy when we all get to visit him, with all his children and grandchildren together.
He has visited my family once here in the United States despite the hassle and inconvenience of traveling, but I really hope he can visit us again soon. From my end I make it a point to travel to the Philippines to spend time with them when my schedule allows.
Despite the distance, Daddy always wanted to know what has been going on with us in our life here in the United States. It has made Daddy very happy that my eldest son, Christopher is now a lawyer. I know he was a bit disappointed I did not go to law school but he never pushed me anyway. He just let me pursue my own passion. I hope, though, that I have made him proud in the best way I can.
The whole clan had the most memorable family reunion during Dad and Mom’s golden wedding anniversary in 2011. Mom walked down the aisle of the same church — Immaculate Conception — where they got married in 1961, as Dad waited by the altar. They renewed their vows before generations of family who have been blessed to witness true love and faith through their life and their marriage.
As I embark on my own journey, I would carry with me the gift of my father that can never be taken away from me, even by the most challenging and discouraging of times. Through his life, Dad has always reminded me “to look at the glass half-full instead of half-empty.” Each new day after his accident, he chose not to dwell on the fact that he has lost his ability to walk nor the law practice he lost [43] years ago. Instead, he has focused on the thought that he still has his life, his family, and the chance to make a difference in people’s lives with each new day he’s being blessed with.
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GOODBYE, Daddy. I love you so much. Thank you for being the pillar of my strength.
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Gel Santos Relos is the anchor of TFC’s “Balitang America.” Views and opinions expressed by the author in this column are are solely those of the author and not of Asian Journal and ABS-CBN-TFC. For comments, go to www.TheFil-AmPerspective.com, https://www.facebook.com/Gel.Santos.Relos
