When I was 5 months pregnant, my baby was diagnosed with hydrohephrosis, a common kidney disfunction. From the moment of his birth on June 3, it had been a whirlwind of ultra-sounds, tests and antibiotics. The first week of July, while being scheduled for a test, he got a high fever and was admitted into the hospital, barely a month old. On the same day, my father left for Manila to meet my mother who we had asked to come home early from her work in Alaska (along with my younger brother and sister). They were coming home because my father was not doing well. A week later, we get released from the hospital with no answers to the cause of the hydronephrosis, but minus the fever. In Manila, my father collapses and is brought to the ER, where they do an emergency drain on his fluid-filled lungs.

Husband, son and I flew to Manila a week after. Papa had been diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer last September 2007. The past year had been a whirlwind of chemotherapy, stem cell therapy, my pregnancy, the wedding, births (my sister in December and me in June) and work at the ranch. He even managed to go to Texas last March for the Livestock show. He went thru all treatments like a breeze, never landed in the hospital. Our days were filled much activity. Papa wanted to live, and live he did.

On July 26, I gave him a kiss goodbye and we talked about seeing him back at the ranch. I had to go home to go back to work on all his on-going projects, and to prepare for his return.

On July 28, his and mom’s 29th wedding anniversary, my father, at 76 lost his bout with lung cancer. With much grace.

He had opted for “no heroics”, and till the very end only had oxygen attached to him and nothing else. He ate thru his mouth, made the decision on all his medications, slept sitting down (he couldn’t lie down, for fear of a cough attack), did his business on a commode and not on the bed, had himself shaved and groomed every morning, said his prayers first thing in the morning and night. 24 days in the hospital, filled with visitors from all walks and all times of his life. Big people, small people. All there to say goodbye to this man who had loved them all.  And he entertained them all. All the way to the end, at which he finally laid down and closed his eyes. 

His last words to the priest who gave him his last rites were, “Father, I’ve had the most wonderful life.”

A great man. A gentleman. A wonderful human being. Papa.

And life begins again….

May we continue to love and live the way you did, with much Faith in God and in the same way, be blessed to go with the same Grace.