Goodbye. It’s been
days that these words keep coming back into my mind. Goodbye is such a strong
word for me. I honestly don’t like it. I remember the time when my Tatay was
still alive. Tatay (Filipino for dad/father) my maternal grandfather was very
close to me. I even inherited his name. When my brother and I were still in
elementary years up to high school, we used to sleep beside him. He will always
be at the middle to be our referee, because my brother and I used to fight.
My Tatay was a seaman,
he used to operate ships until such time that he found a little business by
manning the port in our town. So he travels regularly. Every time he travels, I
cry if he would not let me go with him, so I usually ended up going with him.
If not, he will always have a chocolate for my siblings and me when he goes
home. He would always joke, “I will put
you inside the bayujot “(local bag made from the leaves of a buli or anahaw
tree). He travels with it. It’s funny that he has a suitcase and yet he would
still put the suitcase in the bayujot. Since he has access to the control area
of the ship, I can go inside with him, have a look of the city at a distance
using the binoculars, while he talks to the captain of the boat. I guess that’s
were I got my fascination for places. I came to love travelling.
One of His favourite
recreations, aside from Majhong, is fishing squid in our local port. So the routine goes every six in the evening.
I would go with him, ask him questions and being fascinated at his stories
about what he called, “peace time”. The time before the Japanese invaded the
Philippines. I am equally amazed at his stories of the war. He was one of those
soldiers of USAFFE (United States Armed Forces in the Far East) who surrendered
Corregidor and was at the death march to Capas, Tarlac. He was incarcerated and
after the country was liberated, he was eventually released. I listened intently to his stories, the like
of how they manage to survive in prison with a ration of rice and salt. So to
augment the usual food given by the Japanese, they would catch anything, like,
lizards, rats, mouse or even cockroaches just to survive. And by the way, we
usually have a squid or two, enough catch for the evening.
Tatay would bring me
along anywhere he goes. We went to some appointments of his eventual
recognition as a veteran of the war. Appointments after appointments, letters
after letters, it went nowhere. He passed away unrecognized by the country he
was serving. He serves the United States and the Philippines, and yet the same
governments did not recognize him. I felt sad, how honour and justice as a
veteran was not given to him. For me, it was not so much about the benefits
that one will get, but more so of honour, justice and dignity he so rightly deserves. I felt the pain of seeing him slowly passing
by and feeling rejected. This was his last battle. Well, it’s seems all was
lost, but I consider it an unfinished tasks that has to be done right.
When my siblings and
I were studying already in Cebu and my mom would tell him that we are about to
go home, he will wait patiently at the bus station for us to arrive. Come to
think of it, before there was no cell phone site in our town, least a
telephone, our way of communication is by writing a letter and sends it through
a ship that goes weekly from our town and Cebu. This was the routine until up
to the last time when the Lord took him. Now, every time I go home and get off
from the bus, I felt the sting of pain when no one is waiting. I missed him
dearly, yes, and yet he lives on in my memory where no one can take him from
me. He lives forever.
My Tatay, in the
words of so many towns’ people, was a “maajong tawo” (a good man). He is my
hero. Recognized or not, I know he is.
+ Arsenio Vasquez Tan
December 14, 1920 –
April 13, 2001
by aats
so touching
ReplyDeletei am deeply moved by your story, gel. maybe he was not given the honor or dignity that he so deserved, but you`ve given him justice.
ReplyDeletemay he rest in peace. - kawen
thanks kaw... blessed be God forever...
ReplyDelete