The following is an article i wrote for the Youngblood column in Phil Daily Inquirer. It was published yesterday, Nov 2, 2010 on page A11 of the national daily. Read on or check out the original posting
HERE.
Black and white By Louie O. Pacardo Philippine Daily Inquirer First Posted 05:46:00 11/02/2010“CONGRATULATIONS!” MY friends said as they approached my father’s white casket to view his remains. Of course, eyebrows were raised all over the room. But I understood why they would say that; in fact, I honestly thought that greeting was most appropriate.
His black and white picture placed on top of his casket reflects the life Pap (as his children fondly called him) lived for 59 years. I personally chose the picture. It had a rich black and white photographic contrast, two colors that spoke well of his actions when he was alive, black indicating that white exists. Pap was a man whose spirit was clouded with negatives, but that was how he taught us life’s lessons.
Pap lived a very colorful life. Many of my encounters with him were rather strange. Others might slightly agree or strongly disagree with his propositions, but I usually disagreed.
We used to say, only half in jest, that Pap was negative energy in human form. He had imperfect explanations for the things he did, but he always had one. For example, he believed that his life was written on his palms—no more, no less and no excuses. His high school teacher once read his palms and predicted that something bad would happen if he should get married. He lived to fulfill the prediction.
He insisted that one’s destiny would be revealed no matter how one might try to change it. Of course, I disagreed. I told him man had free will to build his destiny, but it had no effect on what he deemed as “wisdom.”
My childhood days were tough. Pap was my mentor, but I remember him more as my tormentor. His frequent fights with my mother happened when I was in the sensitive stages of my youth. Being the eldest, it was hard to understand our condition as a family but it was even harder to understand him. It was distressing for us, their five children, to live amidst such domestic chaos. It hurt so much that I developed a fear of getting married and having my own family.
My father was a proud man. Although he stood just a little above five feet, he had the swagger of a six-foot basketball star.
But then who could sneeze at his proud past when as a young boy he supported his sisters and sent them to school? At age 15, he started to earn a living and became the family’s breadwinner. And he never got tired of reminding everyone about this.
Pap saw his country as a hopeless place populated by intolerable people. Our last president was on top of his hate list—one of the very few things we agreed on.
I argued that we could change as a nation, recover from all our troubles and become a superior race in the future. He shrugged off my optimism.
What I found most disagreeable about him was his belief that our mother did him wrong. They separated in 2000. No one believed his reasons for their breakup no matter how many times he tried to explain.
Did my father get what he deserved after making all his mistakes? Of course, he did. But what he got from us was not hate but love. For despite his many flaws, he was the one man who completed our life stories.
He might have exuded negative energy, but he was in fact teaching us how to experience life. He courted his sad destiny, but not everything he did was bad. Once he told me that he had foreseen his children’s future and it was exactly what we were now. With his perseverance and because of the generosity of the universe, things fell into place one by one.
He might have affected us negatively, but at the same time he was molding us into better persons. Like a diamond that needs hard rubbing to show its brilliance, he prepared us to face challenges.
I turned 28 recently, still very much single. If I remain a bachelor all my life, it would not be because I am afraid to get married. I invoked free will in my discussions with my father, so I should feel free also to do what I want regardless of my experiences or what society prescribes. I grew up seeing Pap as a responsible man and this is my template for fulfilling my responsibilities as a brother and as head of my own family in the future.
I learned from him that being a good husband does not necessarily mean sharing in housekeeping and parenting. More importantly, it requires emotional and psychological maturity.
Pap might have been the reason ours was a broken family, but he remained faithful to his wife. Seeing my two brothers sticking to their girlfriends and not fooling around makes me believe he was successful as a role model in this respect.
If Pap saw this country as a hopeless place, he himself didn’t feel completely hopeless. I knew he had hope from his enthusiasm for the elections last May. He even campaigned for his candidate, a deposed president seeking election to high office again. For Pap, his choice was the one who could best bring change. Unfortunately, he died exactly one month before election day.
Pap’s keen observations on the national situation made me proud that I had somebody on the same page with me, and prouder still because he happened to be my father.
If Pap was proud of what he had done for his siblings, he was honest about what they had to go through so that his sisters could get an education. He himself was not able to finish college but he worked hard so that his children would achieve their dreams. He can be more proud now because of what we have become. We have all graduated from college and are now doing what we have learned in school.
Being the pessimistic person that he was, he made us understand life better. We often had conflicting opinions, but we learned to decode his messages. He showed us contrasting perspectives on life so we could choose what was best for us.
I remember well the time when my father passed away. We were there in the emergency room, watching fearfully as nurses tried to revive him. Certain that his end was near, we made sure that he left the world knowing how much we love him and how grateful we were for what he had done to us. Before he died, I whispered to him: “Salamat sa tanan, Pap. Okay na kami di. Palangga ka namon (Thank you for everything, Pap. We’ll be all right here. We love you).”
Indeed, Pap deserved congratulations. His death was a celebration of a battle well-fought and the many intangible treasures he left us. Now, as I look at his picture again, there’s something black and white photographs make me feel that I wish would not linger: loneliness.
(Louie O. Pacardo, 28, works as a research and publication officer in the city government of Koronadal.)