The Gift of Faith (A Tribute to My Dad)

I will now make an attempt to reconstruct an essay I wrote more than a decade ago for my college English class under the amazing and inspiring Doreen Fernandez. It was about my father, and it was one her favorites out of all the pieces I had written for her class. (She had us write an essay a week for an entire year, as she believed that practice, practice, and even more practice was key for all budding writers.) So here goes:

Nights at the dinner table are always filled with my father's stories, his witty remarks, and his boisterous laughter. He would preside over the table (as heads of families are wont to do), and regale us with anecdotes of his adventures and misadventures as a young boy, his outwitting of would-be muggers he would encounter in Central Park or on the subway on his way home from work, his close brush with death when my brother and I were mere babies. I listened to him in rapt attention, oftentimes with my mouth gaping open in amazement, oftentimes giggling till my sides hurt, and always, always thinking that my dad was the coolest, funniest, most awesome guy on the planet.

But that night was different. The atmosphere at the dinner table was solemn and quiet. And as my dad began to speak, his entire demeanor changed. His face was aglow with a serene light. His eyes were bright, clear, and deep. He had transformed into a sage, wise and philosophical.

He spoke about faith. He spoke of our times, and how circumstances oftentimes pushed people to commit acts of desperation - they chose to resort to crime, harm others, abandon their loved ones, or take their own lives. He spoke of life and of the storms at sea and how, if one had nothing to hold on to, one would choose the easiest thing, to give in to the tides and the rolling waves and be pulled under. One would simply give up, and drown.

He then spoke of his decision to move us back to the Philippines. There were plenty of considerations that went into this decision. It was not one that was easy for him to make. But one defining reason, a reason that tipped the scales in favor of us coming home, was because he had wanted me and and my brothers to know God, beyond our surface knowledge of who and what God was. And He had wanted us to know what it was to have faith in God.

Then his said, "We came home so that you would have faith. So that even when the waves of desperation and anxiety would come crashing over you, you would hold on. You would have faith in God, and know that you could weather the storm. And you would survive."

I have never forgotten that night. And I am thankful for transfigurations at the dinner table, the gift of the faith, and the gift of my father. 

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Happy Father's Day, Dad! No one to this day makes my sides ache with laughter like you do. You may now share the title of 'The Coolest, Funniest, Most Awesome Guy on the Planet' with Pipo, but you were first. I love you.

Dancing with my Dad on my wedding day. Photo by Sandra Dans