3 Fathers Remembered

My father was a military doctor. He was a disciplinarian whose word was law in our home. For many months, he did not talk to me nor gave his hand for blessing when I left the house nor when I arrived as we were wont to do. Because I disobeyed him. When I knelt before him for forgiveness, he asked what I was sorry about. After my reply, he embraced me. That was the first time I saw this strict man cry. On my wedding day, as we were coming down the stairs, while on the bridal car for the church, and while walking me to the altar, he cried. On my birthday, he surprised me by coming to the bank where I worked, kissed me his greetings, and crying, told my office mates how proud he was of me. Nearing death, he talked of his mistakes and regrets regarding people he loved, and cried again.

Papa was a self-made man who escaped China, and through grit and hard work rose from poverty to comfort and earned for himself respect and stability. He was known for his frugality and business sense. He collected soap fragments from our bathrooms which he put into an old sock. When I asked why, he said it was for washing his hands. Grocery goodies were not for free, even for his grandkids. He paid for the snacks and sweets that they ate. But like a true father, he treated us to Christmas shopping where he paid for whatever we chose in a department store. The night before he sold his first grocery store, he told us to get carts of items, as much as we want, for ourselves and his grandchildren. My cartons of supplies lasted for more than six months.

My husband Berting loved to smoke, drink and gamble; was known for his generosity and kindness. On our wedding night, he set his preferences on how to discipline our future children. If he scolds them, I should not butt in no matter how wrong our children were. That I should instead provide a shoulder to cry on after a scolding. After each scolding from me, he would lovingly explain to our children the reason for my anger. At night of the same day, Berting would ask me to give our children another chance. He would add to the allowances I gave my children and bought for them items more expensive than my choices, sometimes secretly. Sundays were holy, our family day — masses, movies, picnics, shoppings. To his dying day, he never imposed on my children to be with him during his terminal illness. Almost daily since he got sick, he asked for forgiveness from me and our children for the kind of life he led. To my children, their Dad is still the kindest man they ever knew up to this time.

I honour these three fathers in my life. GOD willed them for me, to love, to respect, to learn from, and to remember fondly. For them, I truly praise GOD. GOD is never wrong in HIS choices.

TO GOD BE ALL GLORY! (Bella A. Sarenas)