We Miss you Momma
It has been over a year since you left. I continue to struggle knowing you can never come back. Everyday I wake up thinking you are already on your way home, perhaps you just went to the market. Waiting is a game of agony; to try and sleep but sleep not, to wait for one who comes not, and to try and please and please not.
Yes I continue to deny you are dead and still refuses to accept you are gone forever. Perhaps if God would give me an audience today I would ask Him why does He have to take you away from me, from us your children. In losing you I lost the balance of my life. Your death, to my life is the most incomprehensible of events because it crushes and scatters to the four winds the little bits of meaning that has been laboriously accumulated in life. God became so distant and my prayers seemed to die in the voice and in time I found it difficult to even voice my concerns.
 |
| Joseph Eugene |
The past year was terrible. I longed for your presence. I missed your voice. And I crave for the warmth of your presence. How I wish you can hear me now as I tell you about out children.
Your eldest Joseph Eugene is now 18 years old. Our first child and whom we both dotted on as our only child in our first five years is still struggling to face his life I know he too misses you so much and from this circumstance he is forced to grow up up taking care of his siblings Do watch over him, lovingly as you did in your mortal life. He plans to enter SK politics as he works with the barangay.
 |
| Ma Angelica |
Maria Angelica, our second child, is fast growing to be a lady. She is now on her third year in high school. Young as she is she is now mommy to EJ and Edgar IV. She remains sweet as she was when she was still a toddler.
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| EJ |
EJ our third child and second girl, you would be happy to note, is fast looking more and more like you - beautiful. She cried a lot when you died and when you were buried. She always go with me visiting your grave and would silently watch your grave. I know she misses you so much.
 |
| Edgar IV |
Our beloved bunso Edgar IV remains makulit as you know him. He is more handsome now and he started his elementary grades this June. Together with EJ, he too always go with me visiting your grave. He misses you too. He does not want me to tell you his crush in school.
It sounds absurd but I continue to wait for your return, morbid to look forward to the day I would lie down once more beside you
Goodbye and goodnight my wife
 |
| Ma. Lourdes Lacson Basares June 1, 1966 May 25, 2013 |
I wipe my tears with the thought that the pain will no longer bother you. I kissed your forehead with the thought that hopelessness of your case has ended. I embraced your body with the thought that you left in ease having left me with four wonderful kids.
I will miss you mama. I will miss your warm smile. I will miss your voice. And I will miss your presence.
God has taken you away from us because He knows it is time for you to rest. He gave you deliverance from the pain and loneliness of staying in bed the past five months. I and our children are consoled that somehow your death painful as it is to us is also a form of your liberation.
I know you will still be there. You have been a good mother to my children that is why I know they love you much. You love them so dearly that you will be there for them.
By Saturday would have been your 47th bday. As I told you we will celebrate in our own little way. We still will, me and the kids will mark your birthday as we always do.
Goodbye and good night my dear wife.MUSTA MGA MATE
(PUBLISHED: 2/26/09 www.batch86.blogspot.com)
I presume all of you are already in 40’s. I took the presumption because I would enter the 40’ish bracket in two months time and in our class I am the late bloomer. So late perhaps that until this date I continue waiting to bloom.
I never had an occasion to celebrate my birthday, I do not have the taste for it. So my 4oth comes in tell tale signs, indirectly telling me how old I have become since I met me. Regretfully doctors call it the signs of ageing. That’s what I hate in doctors – they always tell the truth. Especially dentists . . . .
I just had this mild stroke thing a week ago. It’s the transient ischemic attack thing. Suddenly I felt severe chest pain and simultaneously my left arm went numb and for a few minutes my jaw locked. It took me three days to live with that damn chest pain. I promised myself to start exercising the next day but I did not set a date for that next day. It is better that way so I can continue reminding myself.
At present I am considering an early retirement from my full time job – as Student Affairs Officer of a private educational institution in this city. I dropped my Sunday subjects and retain only two subjects for Saturdays – Labor Relations and Civil Procedure, both major subjects. The first is my favorite as an HR Practitioner under Atty Alwyn Talde (sano batch 83) whose style suites me best – always absent. In some instances, he is present when I am absent, and absent when I am present, ay ambot.
I continue to write for Erwin newspaper (Sorsogon Now) on a weekly basis for the past three years now. I am happy to report that I managed to make the paper come out on a regular schedule sans my shortcomings and lapses in proofreading. And typical of our classmate Erwin, he has taken care of me. Saen ka nakakita nin empleyado pirmi advance an suweldo – only in Sorsogon City. The opportunity provided by Sorsogon Now and our classmate Erwin opened doors for me to be invited and assist upcoming newspapers in the province. Obviously they have the money but cannot write while I can write but do not have the money. But over and above it, what started out as a mere hobby in college became passion and is slowly evolving into a source of livelihood. Perhaps a career . . . ? ? ? ?
Erwin unselfish as always did not prohibit me from accepting these invitations. So far to date, I have already submitted three articles with one group yet the paper, which is ought to be also on a weekly issue, remains to be seen. With another group who invited me for a monthly news magazine of 20 pages its maiden issue is set to come out this last week of February. Let us see thereafter. I wrote all the articles inside it (although they produce the materials and other data needed) designed and worked the lay-out. I have just finished with it this day and tomorrow it will be submitted to the printing press for production. Let us see where this will lead me.
Meanwhile, one senior citizen in the city made representations and is asking me to write her autobiography. We are still in the thick of negotiations and working out details. I said to myself may urag man palan ako maski nag uurag urag lang.
Truth to tell, from time to time I also try to whip some butts with my pen. Mala ngani iuuragan sako an iba na pulis didi. But where else do you find but here where a school kid out to buy pandesal early morning get held up? And four hold-up/robbery cases in a day, one after another along the same stretch of highway? – only in the city of Sosogon. Anyway that is another story.
Perhaps I should start considering a full time career in local newspapers. But I fear one day I may be blamed for contributing to the mental retardation of some. You see MEDIA IS DANGEROUS TO YOUR MENTAL HEALTH!
I presume all of you are already in 40’s. I took the presumption because I would enter the 40’ish bracket in two months time and in our class I am the late bloomer. So late perhaps that until this date I continue waiting to bloom.
I never had an occasion to celebrate my birthday, I do not have the taste for it. So my 4oth comes in tell tale signs, indirectly telling me how old I have become since I met me. Regretfully doctors call it the signs of ageing. That’s what I hate in doctors – they always tell the truth. Especially dentists . . . .
I just had this mild stroke thing a week ago. It’s the transient ischemic attack thing. Suddenly I felt severe chest pain and simultaneously my left arm went numb and for a few minutes my jaw locked. It took me three days to live with that damn chest pain. I promised myself to start exercising the next day but I did not set a date for that next day. It is better that way so I can continue reminding myself.
At present I am considering an early retirement from my full time job – as Student Affairs Officer of a private educational institution in this city. I dropped my Sunday subjects and retain only two subjects for Saturdays – Labor Relations and Civil Procedure, both major subjects. The first is my favorite as an HR Practitioner under Atty Alwyn Talde (sano batch 83) whose style suites me best – always absent. In some instances, he is present when I am absent, and absent when I am present, ay ambot.
I continue to write for Erwin newspaper (Sorsogon Now) on a weekly basis for the past three years now. I am happy to report that I managed to make the paper come out on a regular schedule sans my shortcomings and lapses in proofreading. And typical of our classmate Erwin, he has taken care of me. Saen ka nakakita nin empleyado pirmi advance an suweldo – only in Sorsogon City. The opportunity provided by Sorsogon Now and our classmate Erwin opened doors for me to be invited and assist upcoming newspapers in the province. Obviously they have the money but cannot write while I can write but do not have the money. But over and above it, what started out as a mere hobby in college became passion and is slowly evolving into a source of livelihood. Perhaps a career . . . ? ? ? ?
Erwin unselfish as always did not prohibit me from accepting these invitations. So far to date, I have already submitted three articles with one group yet the paper, which is ought to be also on a weekly issue, remains to be seen. With another group who invited me for a monthly news magazine of 20 pages its maiden issue is set to come out this last week of February. Let us see thereafter. I wrote all the articles inside it (although they produce the materials and other data needed) designed and worked the lay-out. I have just finished with it this day and tomorrow it will be submitted to the printing press for production. Let us see where this will lead me.
Meanwhile, one senior citizen in the city made representations and is asking me to write her autobiography. We are still in the thick of negotiations and working out details. I said to myself may urag man palan ako maski nag uurag urag lang.
Truth to tell, from time to time I also try to whip some butts with my pen. Mala ngani iuuragan sako an iba na pulis didi. But where else do you find but here where a school kid out to buy pandesal early morning get held up? And four hold-up/robbery cases in a day, one after another along the same stretch of highway? – only in the city of Sosogon. Anyway that is another story.
Perhaps I should start considering a full time career in local newspapers. But I fear one day I may be blamed for contributing to the mental retardation of some. You see MEDIA IS DANGEROUS TO YOUR MENTAL HEALTH!
Dai Na An Lamadang
In memoriam
ATTY PROF EDGAR CHU BASARES Sr. AB, BSE, MPA, LLb, Phd
ATTY PROF EDGAR CHU BASARES Sr. AB, BSE, MPA, LLb, Phd
1947-2008
Atty Ed Basares is dead. He passed away in his house last night November 6, 2008 after a lingering illness. Let us not talk about how he died; rather let us talk about how he lived. In my moment of grief allow me to share with you small anecdotes of my dad.
It was hard growing up under his shadow. He was an overachiever; an academician, a broadcaster, and a lawyer. He started as a classroom teacher even before I entered my elementary grades and by the time I did, he was already the school principal. He moved on to become a College Dean, Director for Student Affairs and VP for Administration spanning four decades of teaching. He capped his scholarly record with two baccalaureate degrees, two masteral including his law course, and a doctorate degree in education. In his short stint in government service he was a recipient of several Certificates of Merit. In the broadcast industry, he was rated number one radio commentator in the province and earned the monicker from his peers as the DEAN OF BROADCAST MEDIA in Sorsogon.
It was hard growing up under his shadow. I was only in grade four when he required me to learn journalism as he imposed on me to read and re-write the news from the newspapers. Reading was a habit he instilled upon me that no book or magazine from his library was missed. Yet he left me alone to learn. No grade in the line of seven was acceptable to him as he monitored mine every grading period. Bad English for him was and is a mortal sin. I finished my elementary grades with honors and he was there. During my seminary years he enjoyed the joy and pride of having a seminarian son as any father is, albeit he does not want me to become a priest. He however acknowledged my identity and duties then as a seminarian as he allowed me to spend days in the parish especially during the Lenten season.
Atty Ed Basares Sr. is a father to his students, he is a teacher to his son. He was my professor in the subject Law on Properties this last semester where always every meeting an oral exam is the only agenda. One day, on the way to school I dropped by his house to borrow a book. He told me “I will asked you about Art. ___.” I said to myself ok ito may leakage. Imagine my shock when during the actual oral exam he asked me instead questions on Art. ___ an entirely different topic. After class he saw me grinning from ear to ear “always be prepared!” he said.
He is a father to his students, sending many of them to school on his account. Even in Manila I would meet some of them grateful for finishing college through my father. Many of his students then and now come and go in his house and he would always welcome them with a smile in his lips and a song on his heart. Many of his students would remember him by his iconic advise of “SARO LANG AN SEKRETO SA PAGTAPOS NOY DAI MAGPUNDO”.
His friends and colleagues remember him for his payting pirit because my dad never gets tired; always on the move and would oftentimes take the cudgel of other people. At one time in 90’s, as a broadcaster, he even volunteered to take into custody a prisoner who wrote dad behind bars confessing he was paid to assassinate my dad and his disobedience caused him his liberty alleging that as a consequence of his disobedience he was framed up and accused as part of the NPAs that raided Irosin town. In his law practice he was branded as the extension office of PAO as many indigents standing accused would run to him and dad never waivered to welcome them rationalizing they deserve the help. Immediately after his amputation he made motions to stand up when told of a client frantically and desperately looking for him for assistance. Our family has grown accustomed to visitors coming in even interrupting his meals or his siesta. We grew up taking the backseat whenever public service beckons.
And today dai na an lamadang. Lamadang was a term he used to described one Police Colonel assigned as Provincial Director in this province whom he lambasted for incompetence and inaction. The Police Colonel, a Tagalog, was so mad at my dad that he asked his staff to research what lamadang means only to find out it was an specie of a fish. The Police Colonel was reassigned, lamadang though stick on to him as a radio monicker. When he led the KBP in this province he initiated a resolution recommending then Col. Fredelino Bautista, who head an army contingent then assigned here, for promotion impressed of the strict discipline the Colonel imposes on his erring men. Col. Bautista was promoted to Brigadier General and before leaving Sorsogon passed by my dad to thank him.
As we spend his remaining days in this mortal wound, we again give him back to the public he loved so much. Join us in his wake as we celebrate his life. As his thousands of students mourn for the loss of a father, I mourn for the loss of my teacher.
Goodbye and good night dad! Res in pacis. And please do not worry I shall see you again soon.
Atty Ed Basares is dead. He passed away in his house last night November 6, 2008 after a lingering illness. Let us not talk about how he died; rather let us talk about how he lived. In my moment of grief allow me to share with you small anecdotes of my dad.
It was hard growing up under his shadow. He was an overachiever; an academician, a broadcaster, and a lawyer. He started as a classroom teacher even before I entered my elementary grades and by the time I did, he was already the school principal. He moved on to become a College Dean, Director for Student Affairs and VP for Administration spanning four decades of teaching. He capped his scholarly record with two baccalaureate degrees, two masteral including his law course, and a doctorate degree in education. In his short stint in government service he was a recipient of several Certificates of Merit. In the broadcast industry, he was rated number one radio commentator in the province and earned the monicker from his peers as the DEAN OF BROADCAST MEDIA in Sorsogon.
It was hard growing up under his shadow. I was only in grade four when he required me to learn journalism as he imposed on me to read and re-write the news from the newspapers. Reading was a habit he instilled upon me that no book or magazine from his library was missed. Yet he left me alone to learn. No grade in the line of seven was acceptable to him as he monitored mine every grading period. Bad English for him was and is a mortal sin. I finished my elementary grades with honors and he was there. During my seminary years he enjoyed the joy and pride of having a seminarian son as any father is, albeit he does not want me to become a priest. He however acknowledged my identity and duties then as a seminarian as he allowed me to spend days in the parish especially during the Lenten season.
Atty Ed Basares Sr. is a father to his students, he is a teacher to his son. He was my professor in the subject Law on Properties this last semester where always every meeting an oral exam is the only agenda. One day, on the way to school I dropped by his house to borrow a book. He told me “I will asked you about Art. ___.” I said to myself ok ito may leakage. Imagine my shock when during the actual oral exam he asked me instead questions on Art. ___ an entirely different topic. After class he saw me grinning from ear to ear “always be prepared!” he said.
He is a father to his students, sending many of them to school on his account. Even in Manila I would meet some of them grateful for finishing college through my father. Many of his students then and now come and go in his house and he would always welcome them with a smile in his lips and a song on his heart. Many of his students would remember him by his iconic advise of “SARO LANG AN SEKRETO SA PAGTAPOS NOY DAI MAGPUNDO”.
His friends and colleagues remember him for his payting pirit because my dad never gets tired; always on the move and would oftentimes take the cudgel of other people. At one time in 90’s, as a broadcaster, he even volunteered to take into custody a prisoner who wrote dad behind bars confessing he was paid to assassinate my dad and his disobedience caused him his liberty alleging that as a consequence of his disobedience he was framed up and accused as part of the NPAs that raided Irosin town. In his law practice he was branded as the extension office of PAO as many indigents standing accused would run to him and dad never waivered to welcome them rationalizing they deserve the help. Immediately after his amputation he made motions to stand up when told of a client frantically and desperately looking for him for assistance. Our family has grown accustomed to visitors coming in even interrupting his meals or his siesta. We grew up taking the backseat whenever public service beckons.
And today dai na an lamadang. Lamadang was a term he used to described one Police Colonel assigned as Provincial Director in this province whom he lambasted for incompetence and inaction. The Police Colonel, a Tagalog, was so mad at my dad that he asked his staff to research what lamadang means only to find out it was an specie of a fish. The Police Colonel was reassigned, lamadang though stick on to him as a radio monicker. When he led the KBP in this province he initiated a resolution recommending then Col. Fredelino Bautista, who head an army contingent then assigned here, for promotion impressed of the strict discipline the Colonel imposes on his erring men. Col. Bautista was promoted to Brigadier General and before leaving Sorsogon passed by my dad to thank him.
As we spend his remaining days in this mortal wound, we again give him back to the public he loved so much. Join us in his wake as we celebrate his life. As his thousands of students mourn for the loss of a father, I mourn for the loss of my teacher.
Goodbye and good night dad! Res in pacis. And please do not worry I shall see you again soon.
FATHERHOOD
My dad, me and my son
YAYES
(I do not consider myself a writer, yet I am flattered by your comments and encouragement to continue writing. If priesthood is my first love, writing comes second and teaching ranks third……..oh great brown God I hope my wife does not see this! I have promised myself never to write a sad story. I want you to laugh when you read the words I write, perhaps listen to the child inside me as it tries to speak to that little child in you. Today I beg for an exemption.)
I am the son of my father. I am the father of my son.
In nomine padre …………….
My dad is ED BASARES the overachiever: an academician, an administrator, a broadcaster, a politician and a lawyer. He started as a classroom teacher even before I entered my first grade in school, and by the time I did he was already the school principal. He later moved on to become a College Dean, Director for Student Affairs and Vice President for Administration. He capped his scholarly record with two baccalaureate degrees, two masteral (including his Bachelor of Laws) and a doctorate in Education. In his short stint in government service he was a recipient of several Certificates of Merit. In the broadcast industry, he was rated number one radio commentator in the province and earned the monicker from his peers as the DEAN OF BROADCAST MEDIA in Sorsogon. When he entered politics in 1992 he was classified as a sure winner albeit they used a different parameter when counting the votes. He has continued to be present in every electoral process since then and has refused to acknowledge defeat. When I saw him in 1997 after years of absence I was shocked at how old he had become, yet he has refused to fade into retirement. Well, I still have to meet a politician who does not consider himself immortal. My father became a lawyer in 2002 . To date he is practicing his law profession.
Et fili……..
It was hard growing up under his shadow.
I was only in grade four when he required me to learn journalism as he imposed on me to read and re-write the news from the newspapers. Reading was a habit he instilled upon me that no book or magazine from his library was missed. Yet he left me alone to learn. No grade in the line of seven was acceptable to him as he monitored mine every grading period. Bad English for him was and is a mortal sin. I finished my elementary grades with honors and he was there.
I told him I would enter the seminary. He was not surprised. Two instances I remember well of how proud he was during my seminary years--
one when I was assigned to serve an acolyte to the Bishop one Sunday during our summer break, and two when he “gave” me to Fr. Ding Caindec after I became his official acolyte every time Fr Ding would say mass outside the seminary. He never wanted me to become a priest as I am his only son and eldest at that. Yet he acknowledged my identity and duties then as a seminarian as he allowed me to spend days in the parish especially during the Lenten season. Somehow he attributed my decision to leave the seminary when Fr Ding left for Rome on my second year. To a certain degree he was right for Fr. Ding was more like a second father to me.
When I was in second year college (outside the seminary), knowing I had long turned my back on the norms and values of a seminarian, and while he was station manager of DZMS, he secretly invited Fr Ding, then back from Rome, to say mass and compelled me to attend. I cried a lot at Fr Ding’s shoulder.
My dad is a strict disciplinarian and hard on his children, hardest on me. Sometimes I suspect I was his favorite whipping bag. He is a distant father. It is easy for him to shower praises on his students against whom I pale in comparison, albeit he spends most of his nights wondering if he has made me wrong or what in heavens name a curse has fallen upon me.
While sometimes I envied some of his students it was easy for me to understand: ED BASARES is a father to his students, a teacher to his son. And I grew up looking for a father.
It was always a love-hate relationship between us as he perpetually tried to control me during the times I was uncontrollable and stubbornly refused to do so at times I needed it most. He is never satisfied with what I can do yet secretly confides to his friends his amazement with the little things I have managed to do.
These days everytime I go home, I spend all my time with my kids playing with them after school and I would see him secretly watching, perhaps wondering why. But by all means he is a doting lolo.
ED BASARES will always be ED BASARES. He has fought his battle and emerged victorious from it, all by himself as he grew up an orphan. He has carved his destiny and earned the respect of others with no one beside him and with nothing but pure guts and determination.
et mi fili
My son was born in 1995. I had always wanted a son. For five years he was my only child. To date he is about to enter his adolescence period. And I fear so much that he would commit the same mistakes I did. My only wish and prayer for my son is for him to live a different life from mine. So I refused to cast a shadow on him and gave him a different name. At bedtime and away from the ears of his mom he would tell me stories about his girl classmates and, oh God here it goes. Four occasions my son would never miss--my birthday, his birthday, his siblings birthday, and his mom’s birthday.
I know I will never verbally have the chance to tell my dad I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN PROUD OF HIM. It is my hope that just being a father to my own son would speak louder than words.
For the son comes from the father.
In some instances the rock speaks because it is silent, the sand moves because it is still.
The sad story shall continue on and on. Until like my dad, in his career path, it will arrive…..
………….at a time which is not a time,
………….at a place which is not a place.
My dad, me and my son
YAYES
(I do not consider myself a writer, yet I am flattered by your comments and encouragement to continue writing. If priesthood is my first love, writing comes second and teaching ranks third……..oh great brown God I hope my wife does not see this! I have promised myself never to write a sad story. I want you to laugh when you read the words I write, perhaps listen to the child inside me as it tries to speak to that little child in you. Today I beg for an exemption.)
I am the son of my father. I am the father of my son.
In nomine padre …………….
My dad is ED BASARES the overachiever: an academician, an administrator, a broadcaster, a politician and a lawyer. He started as a classroom teacher even before I entered my first grade in school, and by the time I did he was already the school principal. He later moved on to become a College Dean, Director for Student Affairs and Vice President for Administration. He capped his scholarly record with two baccalaureate degrees, two masteral (including his Bachelor of Laws) and a doctorate in Education. In his short stint in government service he was a recipient of several Certificates of Merit. In the broadcast industry, he was rated number one radio commentator in the province and earned the monicker from his peers as the DEAN OF BROADCAST MEDIA in Sorsogon. When he entered politics in 1992 he was classified as a sure winner albeit they used a different parameter when counting the votes. He has continued to be present in every electoral process since then and has refused to acknowledge defeat. When I saw him in 1997 after years of absence I was shocked at how old he had become, yet he has refused to fade into retirement. Well, I still have to meet a politician who does not consider himself immortal. My father became a lawyer in 2002 . To date he is practicing his law profession.
Et fili……..
It was hard growing up under his shadow.
I was only in grade four when he required me to learn journalism as he imposed on me to read and re-write the news from the newspapers. Reading was a habit he instilled upon me that no book or magazine from his library was missed. Yet he left me alone to learn. No grade in the line of seven was acceptable to him as he monitored mine every grading period. Bad English for him was and is a mortal sin. I finished my elementary grades with honors and he was there.
I told him I would enter the seminary. He was not surprised. Two instances I remember well of how proud he was during my seminary years--
one when I was assigned to serve an acolyte to the Bishop one Sunday during our summer break, and two when he “gave” me to Fr. Ding Caindec after I became his official acolyte every time Fr Ding would say mass outside the seminary. He never wanted me to become a priest as I am his only son and eldest at that. Yet he acknowledged my identity and duties then as a seminarian as he allowed me to spend days in the parish especially during the Lenten season. Somehow he attributed my decision to leave the seminary when Fr Ding left for Rome on my second year. To a certain degree he was right for Fr. Ding was more like a second father to me.
When I was in second year college (outside the seminary), knowing I had long turned my back on the norms and values of a seminarian, and while he was station manager of DZMS, he secretly invited Fr Ding, then back from Rome, to say mass and compelled me to attend. I cried a lot at Fr Ding’s shoulder.
My dad is a strict disciplinarian and hard on his children, hardest on me. Sometimes I suspect I was his favorite whipping bag. He is a distant father. It is easy for him to shower praises on his students against whom I pale in comparison, albeit he spends most of his nights wondering if he has made me wrong or what in heavens name a curse has fallen upon me.
While sometimes I envied some of his students it was easy for me to understand: ED BASARES is a father to his students, a teacher to his son. And I grew up looking for a father.
It was always a love-hate relationship between us as he perpetually tried to control me during the times I was uncontrollable and stubbornly refused to do so at times I needed it most. He is never satisfied with what I can do yet secretly confides to his friends his amazement with the little things I have managed to do.
These days everytime I go home, I spend all my time with my kids playing with them after school and I would see him secretly watching, perhaps wondering why. But by all means he is a doting lolo.
ED BASARES will always be ED BASARES. He has fought his battle and emerged victorious from it, all by himself as he grew up an orphan. He has carved his destiny and earned the respect of others with no one beside him and with nothing but pure guts and determination.
et mi fili
My son was born in 1995. I had always wanted a son. For five years he was my only child. To date he is about to enter his adolescence period. And I fear so much that he would commit the same mistakes I did. My only wish and prayer for my son is for him to live a different life from mine. So I refused to cast a shadow on him and gave him a different name. At bedtime and away from the ears of his mom he would tell me stories about his girl classmates and, oh God here it goes. Four occasions my son would never miss--my birthday, his birthday, his siblings birthday, and his mom’s birthday.
I know I will never verbally have the chance to tell my dad I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN PROUD OF HIM. It is my hope that just being a father to my own son would speak louder than words.
For the son comes from the father.
In some instances the rock speaks because it is silent, the sand moves because it is still.
The sad story shall continue on and on. Until like my dad, in his career path, it will arrive…..
………….at a time which is not a time,
………….at a place which is not a place.
Happy Birthday Fr. Peewee!
peewee, naghuhulat lang kami san pasalubong mo :-)THE GRACE OF PEEWEE
Yayes Basares
Hey, relax classmate. I am not talking about Grace Dimaunahan or Grace Dimagulangan; I am not talking about anybody else's Grace. It's your birthday and I am talking about your grace: your priesthood.
We have always been proud of your priesthood as we are proud of you as MAELSTROM's one and only one priest.
No, you are not a square peg in a hole in our company. Beneath the jest and the jokes is our admiration for you.
And, believe me, you serve as the most tangible link to our past because looking at you we see each of ourselves then hoping to be what you are now.
You can never have sons and daughters as we have, perhaps will miss the joy of fatherhood as you see your son on his first walk and little by little dislodge you as the only authority in the house. On the other hand, you will be spared from the pains of watching over your son overnight as you wait for that fever to break. You will be spared from the daily pressure of living and caring for a family and will perhaps miss the joy of your sons smile on his first bike. You will miss the rush of early morning in sending your son to school and the anxiety of waiting for him in the afternoon. You cannot marry, literally that is. For in your chosen field of endeavor you are to walk a carved path designed by the Divine Father sacrificing personal joys and pleasures demanding celibacy so that you can give everything in you in service.
You cannot amass millions in terms of fat bank accounts or a fleet of cars or a palatial house. Yet you will not have to work hard to gain power and prestige, clout and influence to gain respect of society. Your priesthood alone already demands respect and prestige.
You will not have a family of your own, yet you will be a father to many. You cannot amass wealth yet your riches cannot be measured.
Such is your grace. Such is Peewee’s grace.
Happy birthday, classmate, and we look forward for more birthdays of Rev. Father Philip Aurelius Renovalles.
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