My beloved father passed away on Feb. 1, a Friday. I wasn't prepared for it. My friends at Sun.Star Bacolod sent me an e-mail to call home ASAP. I was at school when I read the message. It wasn't until Friday evening (which is Saturday morning in the Philippines) that I was able to call home. When my mother heard my voice she just screamed and cried. When I heard her crying I completely lost it, I started crying profusely. She said my father died at the hospital. I was crying so hard for about five minutes and wasn't able to asked about the details of his death. The remaining four minutes allotted in the phone card was lost to my crying, "Why does it have to be my Papa." David who was nearby cried, too.
The last time I was able to talk with my father was last year on his birthday, Nov. 11. He had just been discharged from the hospital after suffering from enlarged heart problems. He had been suffering from thyrotoxicosis for years. He said over the phone that he was feeling well. He said not to worry about his condition. He was jovial when he heard my voice.
But on Feb. 1 a part of me died. My father was the kindest and most generous person I've ever known. Maybe that is why we never got rich, because he always shared what he had. Whatever help he could extend he would to his family, friends, relatives and even strangers. He gave without expecting anything in return. He was a man of all trades. He taught us how to farm, cook, sew, and all other skills because he said they're tools for survival. But above all he taught us to be humble and be compassionate to those who need help. He was "Papa Nits" to everybody - to my cousins, our neighbor's daughters, and friends. He will always be the same Papa Nits who kissed me on my head when I lived at home. He will be the same Papa Nits who laughed at my jokes and felt proud of my achievements. My father was my all, my everything. Before his death he told my mother, with tears running down his cheeks, he may not see me again. My mother kidded him to stop feeling sorry for himself and be prepared when I see them all back again, maybe in America.
My heart is broken. I don't know if I will recover from this heartache. I wasn't able to attend my father's burial because I am so far away. I am thankful enough that my mother, younger brother, my grandmother, and family relatives understand my situation. Thank you to my Sun.Star Bacolod family who kept in touch with me during my times of suffering. A multitude of people attended the funeral. It is just to say how my father was well-loved.
I am thankful to the Mendon Church family here in Rochester who extended help, words of comfort and guidance. I extend my gratitude to our friends here who never left me in my times of need. God will reward you in time for your goodness. And a lot of thanks to David, my sponsor, who gave me encouraging words and helped me get through my heartache. My heart will forever be grateful to you.
My Papa Nito, you will always be my source of strength and inspiration. I love you.
The Rodriguez family: (Back) me and my younger brother, Ricardo. (Front) my father, Anito; grandma Leonisa (my mother's mom), and mama Linda.
A love that lasted more than 30 years.
My grandma Nisa, left, who has been living with us since 1996 after she suffered a stroke.
Little Daphne whom we fondly call "Daping" is our neighbor's daughter. She is very close to my father. She would visit our house every morning and eat breakfast with us. She would sit on my father's lap while being fed. She has an older sister, Denise, and younger sister Diane who is my goddaughter. Daphne cried when she learned that my father passed away.
Me, grandma Nisa and Dodong, my younger brother.[I would like to extend my heartfelt thanks to my friends who sent me sympathy cards and those who extended help. I can never thank you enough.]
The Decker Family
David W. Smith, my sponsor.
Mr. and Mrs. Ray and Jane S.
Dr. David L. Smith, our minister at Mendon Church.
Mark T.
Mary L.
Mrs. Gini H.
Pam H.
Mrs. Marianne S.
Dr. Lon B.
Mr. and Mrs. Jim and Jackie C.
The Rodriguez family: (Back) me and my younger brother, Ricardo. (Front) my father, Anito; grandma Leonisa (my mother's mom), and mama Linda.
A love that lasted more than 30 years.
My grandma Nisa, left, who has been living with us since 1996 after she suffered a stroke.
Little Daphne whom we fondly call "Daping" is our neighbor's daughter. She is very close to my father. She would visit our house every morning and eat breakfast with us. She would sit on my father's lap while being fed. She has an older sister, Denise, and younger sister Diane who is my goddaughter. Daphne cried when she learned that my father passed away.
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