My Father, my hero

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Sunday, June 15, 2014

I DON'T like to hear "Oh my papa. That song makes me cry.' Oh my papa, to me he is wonderful," says the first line of the lyrics. It provokes a lot of memories, that unknowingly my eyes are swelling and tears slowly will flow from both cheeks as the song is playing. For my father was my hero. He has long been gone, and am 1000 percent sure he is in heaven with my mother, my brothers Benjamin and Alfredo and my beautiful sister Zeny.

My father, Pedro De Mesa Sangil lived not an easy life. His father Gregorio was from Macabebe and his mother Matilde was from Guagua. He met my mother, Beatriz Tadeo Lumanlan in Porac town. They got married in Binondo church in Manila and settled in Porac. And they raised us all, nine kids. I am sixth in the family.My father worked as a quartermaster in one of those barracks of American GIs in Clark Air Force Base, and my mother tended a carinderia in the public market.

When war broke out my father was recruited in the USAFFE and was assigned in Bataan. He was captured and was one those thousands who endured the death march. He was able to escape in Lubao.


After the war he was recruited by his nephew, Porac Mayor Higinio Gopez and appointed him as the town police chief. Years after serving as the town's top cop, he was requested by Gopez to be his municipal secretary. He retired from government service and was recruited by another relative, Pampanga Governor Francisco G. Nepomuceno for him to handle a public affairs program on a local radio station.

We all lived a modest life. We always had our meals together. Every Sunday we all go to church, and every evening before going to bed, my sister Zenaida recited the rosary, that sometimes made me doze off and put me to sleep. Half awake I remember my father carrying me to bed and place the linen to protect me from evening breeze that somehow forcing its way through the half closed windows.

My father was always telling us to be respectful to other people, to be generous, kind and gentle. He was good in telling stories. He all wanted us to finish schooling. One thing I remember most when we made a trip to Manila. He was carrying the laundry of my brother Benjamin who was then taking medicine in University of East medical school and my sister Zeny taking up education in the University of Sto. Tomas and we both stood up on the packed Philippine Rabbit bus all the way.

That night he took me the Rizal Memorial Coliseum to watch a basketball game, and was so ecstatic to see in person Carlos "The Big Difference" Loyzaga playing against another great, Lauro "The Fox" Mumar. I never tasted that good a siopao my father and I shared after the game.

During our town fiesta he would carry me in his shoulder to get a good view of the procession. He never refused my asking for money for a movie on a weekend. I missed his cooking, particularly his bulalo preparation during Christmas. So many things I miss so much about my father. Oh! I wish he is still today so that I can be profused and overwhelm him the things I know he will be glad to have. If you are reading this, and your father is there, give him a tight hug. You have a prized possession!

Published in the Sun.Star Pampanga newspaper on June 16, 2014.


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