A picture like no other: Memories of my father

Part of a series on dads—and being a dad—for Father's Day

It all started with a question from a writer friend during a dinner meeting: “What were your greatest learning [experiences] from your father?” he asked me.

I stopped for a while, grabbed a glass of water beside my dining plate, sipped a little and thought, and then suddenly a series of events from the past, flashbacks, instantly appeared in my mind.

My Papa—what I used to call him—was a 5-foot 8-inch, good-looking man. Not to be boastful, but many would describe my Papa as looking like Senator Bong Revilla. He had many similarities with the senator, actually, only my Papa was never into politics. He was a simple man with many dreams for his children.

Ambo Villanueva Rieta, the second child of Antonio Rieta Sr. and Lilia Villanueva, my grandparents, worked as a sales agent for an ice cream company based in Ilocos Norte during the 90s.

I remember whenever he arrived home from work he would always have a gallon of cold treats for us.

Papa was a hardworking man, willing to do everything to support his family, even his siblings in Manila. But just like other fathers, Papa was not perfect. He had dark sides as well; he was into alcohol and cigarettes, and girls—a reason why Mom decided to leave Papa and us. And so it happened that we moved to Manila after Papa resigned from his work.

During my childhood, I saw how Papa worked so hard for me and for my two siblings. He would help my grandmother make ube candies, yema and other sweets.

One morning, I asked Papa for my baon before going to school. He gave me two pesos—yes, the decagon-shaped coin with a coconut tree embossed on one of its sides. I frowned. What could I buy with two pesos? I couldn’t buy the latest “tex” or the Son Goku playing cards—those cost five pesos. But before I left with my head down, he lifted up my face, smiled at me and gave me a pack of ube candy.

That moment would always happen almost every day, until fifth grade when my two siblings and I left for Ilocos Norte to continue our studies there, with our mother working abroad to support us.

Before we left the house, I saw Papa standing at the corner of the gate, looking at somewhere that seemed so far away. I didn’t ask him what was he looking at; I just said, “Papa, alis na po kami.” Papa just looked at us, and said, “Magpapakabait kayo dun, mag-aral kayo ng mabuti at huwag makakalimot sa Diyos.”  We just nodded, and then started to walk away.

I can still remember those words, for the memory is so vivid. I can still remember his face in  that moment. Papa was smiling at us, but there’s one thing I can’t describe: what was in his eyes  as we were leaving him.

Life with guardians is so much different from living with your real family. So many adjustments, like you should always behave and never do anything that would make them mad. And so we tried, but we never always succeeded for we were just kids.

At school, I would always remember what Papa told us before we left Manila. I think it was my guiding principle: to behave, get good grades in school, and never forget God.

And happily, Papa was at my side during my grade school graduation.

But he had to leave us to go back to Manila for work and for his new family. He explained to me that no matter what he did, I should never hate him. I didn’t know the meaning of the word "hate" at the time, but I felt sadness and discomfort after hearing it from Papa.

Not too long afterwards, I finished high school as salutatorian, and dedicated this achievement to Papa and Mama.

When I was in college, Papa left us. He died from multiple organ failure months after he suffered a stroke.

It hurt me so much. It was like my heart was torn into a million pieces, never to be complete again. I had lost some relatives, but it was different with Papa. I felt so helpless, like no one would be there for us now to look after and care for us.

At his funeral in Donsol, Sorsogon, I made a promise. I promised to look after my siblings and take care of them and be more steadfast in my service to God, just as he would always tell me to be. I needed to be strong, not because I was the eldest, but because I had no other choice than to be strong. I will never forget that day in my life.

I looked back at my friend who asked me earlier about the greatest thing I learned from my father. I replied, “My greatest learning from my father would be valuing every single thing around me, living a Godly life and caring for others.”

I got teary-eyed after uttering those words from my heart. I told my friend that I always get emotional every time I talk about my family. I tried to compose myself, for there were people around us enjoying their dinner. I didn't want to interrupt them with my crying.

I never had a good picture together with my Papa, nor a family picture to frame and hang on a wall, but in my heart, I have this beautiful image of him that nothing can print out, even the most sophisticated technology today. It is a memory that will only vanish when the time comes that I have to leave this world. But as long as I’m still here, I will have this picture of my Papa that I can always bring with me anywhere I go, a picture I can always look back on every time I miss him.

And this is the greatest thing I learned from my Papa. I love you ‘pa, and I miss you so much. — BM, GMA News