It's February 20, 2020. It's your birthday, the third one that we won't be able to celebrate with you. And just like the last two years, I am going to wake up... and sleep... feeling sad knowing you are no longer around to blow another candle on your birthday cake.
And so here I am, wanting to let you read this unwritten birthday letter, saying the things that I have long wanted to say to you before you passed away.
THANK YOU. For trying to be the best father. You were never the kind of dad who sat us down to teach us a lesson. You did it by living your life as our best example.
How could I ever forget that day when a policeman came to our house and tried to give you a package full of money - in my presence - to bribe you because you were investigating him for corruption. You got so angry and asked him to leave. You told Mommy you got mad because I saw what the man was doing. "Ano ang iisipin ng anak ko sa akin? Na galing sa mali ang pinapakain ko sa kanya?" In that one moment, you taught me one valuable lesson I will carry for the rest of my life - to never compromise my integrity and to stand my ground.
THAT HURT... That first - and last time - I received that one hard spanking from you when I was eight years old. You got angry with me because I lied when you asked me why I came home late that day. Turned out you saw me playing at my classmate's house. You said I disobeyed you, even when you told me I should always go straight home after school. I remember how Mommy tried to rub and ease the pain I felt in my right leg where the buckle of your belt landed... how I cried myself to sleep... and how I woke up with you by my side not saying a word but looking at me with those apologetic eyes. I never lied again to anyone after that.
I WILL ALWAYS BE GRATEFUL BECAUSE YOU LET ME BE ME. The most unselfish act you have ever done for me was to give me the freedom to choose the life I want. You supported Mommy in her dream of putting up her own school. And you supported me in my decision to pursue a path that is completely different from what I was born into. That independence became my anchor and source of happiness... it allowed me to step out of your and Mommy's shadow. I was no longer just your daughter, I became "nag-iisang Louise".
I MISS SEEING YOU AND MOMMY TOGETHER. That is the one thing that I am gonna miss for the rest of my life.
I WISH WE HAD MORE TIME. I wish we could still eat out, travel, fill the room with laughter, even be at odds with one another because of politics, you being pro-Duterte and me not understanding what you saw in the man (makes me wonder now if you would have agreed to the closure of ABS CBN when the only thing you did until your last days was watch Showtime and all those ABS-CBN shows).
I really wish our time together didn't run out. Still, I had those 48 years with you in it... And that will always be enough.
I miss you Daddy... I love you. Happy birthday up there.
