Thank you, Papa

It's been a little over two weeks since my father passed on to the other side of life. There is peace in my heart knowing that he is now in a better place, yet the thought of not being able to see him again until the next life, brings pain.

He was a father every daughter would want to have. A man of few words, yet trustworthy and very dependable.

He singlehandedly saw us -- 6 young siblings -- through college after our mother's sudden death. He took on our mother's style of close supervision, yet gave us enough freedom to decide on our own.

Ours was a bitter-sweet childhood. As a result of Papa's political activism, we grew up practically without him. We went through some un-ordinary experiences, including brief overnights in the provincial jail when he got incarcerated during Martial Law.

In the mid-70s up to the '80s, he worked with PANAMIN and would visit us for a few days every two months. Yet, Papa compensated his absence by bringing us to wherever he was assigned. In summers, he would bring us to mountain adventures in Canlaon. He taught us to ride horses and carabaos. He marvelled at the beauty of nature and would take us for walks in the forests.

He loved the mountains. In fact, when our mother died 19 years ago, he moved to the family's farm in the hinterland of Guihulngan. It was there where he raised our two half-siblings by his second wife.

I don't know what happened anymore after his incarceration. We never talked about his ideologies. But when I started working, I would encounter people asking if I was related to the leftist organizer, Jess Trinidad. Many times, I would hear snide comments that our father was a communist. Yet, more people talked kindly of him for being a principled man.

Communist or not, for us, he was the best father in the world. I have always been proud of him and will always be. He was always concerned of the welfare of the masses. When Negros became militarized in the '80s, he opposed the entry of Cafgu's in our farm in Canlaon.

When he returned to Negros shortly before the Edsa Revolution, he was in the frontlines of rallies that denounced the dictatorship. It made me so proud that while others conveniently closed their eyes to the injustices around us, my father made a stand.

And up to the very end, Papa had the people in his mind. He delayed his check-up if only to ensure that the barangay elections went well. He was concerned that if he was not around, elections would be chaotic.

It was so typical of our father -- putting others first before his own welfare. Had he listened to my older siblings, he would still have been alive today. Then again, all things happen for a reason. Perhaps, his mission is already finished.

I praise God for giving us a father like Papa. Even in sorrow, I rejoice knowing that Papa is now with our Lord Jesus Christ.

Jesus V. Trinidad signs off at 71

My papa, a freedom fighter, one of the pillars of broadcast journalism in Negros in the 70s, peacefully joined the Lord early this evening.

I am still in Dalian, China, attending a global e-herbs conference. It was so gloomy when our group arrived here yesterday. I was already in Beijing when I learned that Papa had respiratory attack. Thanks to modern technology, my sisters kept me posted on the developments.

Yesterday, I spoke to my eldest sister Jessica and she told me that doctors were no longer very hopeful about Papa's situation. But we agreed that nothing is impossible with God. Having seen my own son survive cardiac arrest and rose up from coma, I have no doubt God can do it again on Papa.

We were hopeful that Papa would make it. After all, he was the "stronger one" in his family. Papa was always watchful of his health. Except that he would drink everyday. A little alcohol everyday is good for the heart, he would tell us.

Today, my sister texted that Papa seemed to be improving. His was red again early afternoon. I was silently praising God during the conference. Truly He is good all the time. I was already excited of going home to Negros right after my conference. Then, the sad news came.

God is faithful in all of His ways. Maybe, it's His perfect for Papa not to endure pains and difficulties anymore.

Of course, I feel very sad like my brothers and sisters. But I have peace in my heart that God's will is always perfect. He is our Father who knows what's best for us, even for Papa. And with that blessed assurance, we rest comforted by God's everlasting love.

To all who prayed for Papa's healing, thank you so much. He is now healed. He will no longer suffer because He has joined our loving Father in Heaven.

Where, O death, is your sting?

Show me, O LORD, my life's end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting is my life." -- Psalm 39:4

(photo grabbed from www.txprisonmuseum.org)

This is the time of the year when we put aside everything else and remember our dearly departed. During my growing up years in rural Negros, we would have "reunion" every Nov. 2. All Soul's Day is one of the top three most important days for our very traditional family. The first of course, is Christmas, which also happens to be our father's birthday. Next is the Holy Week, the time of the year where everybody in the family is busy dressing up our centuries' old Santo Entierro.

But Nov. 2 always gave me a different kind of excitement. It was like a big annual reunion not only for our family but for the whole town as well. We get to see our town's "Who's who" at the only cemetery. Everybody who mattered would troop with their families to pay respects to the dearly departed. (Sadly, my children, born and raised in Manila, missed this family tradition.)

As I grew older, All Soul's Day became a reminder of how short life is. My mother, for instance, left us when I was barely 17. She wasn't even sickly.

One of my cousins died of aneurism when she was just a little over 30. Two of my husband's close friends in college also died in their early 30s. Among my father's 11 siblings, only 5 of them are left. Most of my uncles died at 50ish or 60ish, except for their youngest, Uncle Benjamin, who died while he was a baby.

Talking about death is a little morbid. But then again, it is the surest destination for all of us.

Which makes me reflect: how have I lived my life? When I leave for the great beyond, what will people say of me? Of my life? Have I made other people's lives better? Have I lived it according to God's plan?

Everyday, I pray to God to help me live according to His plans. For apart from Him, there is no reason for me to live longer. If I don't consciously seek to please God, then my life is futile. Be far from it that I live according to my own will. Yet, I struggle with it everyday.

Thank God, we have Jesus. When we accept Him as our Lord and Savior, we are no longer bound by our sinfulness. He shed His blood for us so that in His death, we will live.

Now, I am no longer afraid of passing on to eternity. It is no longer about me, no longer about my own efforts to be good. It is about how Jesus saved me. Because of His death and resurrection, we too, will be resurrected with Him.