He was a writer, a real patriot and a leader.
I am not talking about Andres Bonifacio or of any other great men of history. He wasn’t as famous as them. He was only known in his little town. He wasn’t rich enough to build a mansion for his family, but he built a home which nestled and protected his wife and children.
He was well loved by his people. In his little barangay, he was quite popular even after he left. He was a man who values education so much that even when he was sick he would call his grandchildren and teaches them to read. His patriotism borders the exceptional. He was so loyal to his country that he wouldn’t eat canned goods from abroad. I remembered quiet well how his children would connive to hide the cans and labels of those imported foods and things given by their friends. It was funny to reminisce those times.
He loved books. He loved news, politics and his grandchildren. Though he never saw them grow up and reach their dreams.
Yes, he is gone now. The man who had been patient enough to teach his grandchildren their math during summer vacations. He was good enough to bring his granddaughters to their favorite fast food even if he was quiet short of cash. He was exceptional enough to influence a granddaughter at a young age. He was the best, if not better than the best grandfather in the world.
He was my Lolo and I was his favorite apo. Or so they say.
Funny, but I inherited everything from my Lolo, and it’s not just the looks. He was a writer, and I am a student journalist. He was asthmatic, and so am I. He loves news, his writings and books. Of course, so do I.
They say I am following the footsteps of my late grandfather. Among his grandchildren, I was the only one who showed interest in his craft, though they did not seem to notice the potential in one of my cousins.
My grandfather is my hero. He is my muse, so to say. Despite the fact that he died when I was still small, I could still clearly remember how he would bring me to my favorite ice cream house, teach me my math, and hear me read or do my monologue. He never gets tired of teaching us and instilling in us the value of education.
I inherited from him my writing skills, my love for books and my appreciation for knowledge. Sad to say, I never learned to love math despite the fact that he never failed to tutor us with it during summer.
The latter years of his life was spent in hospitals. I remembered visiting him the day before he died. I was the last grandchild he saw.
In a way, I hated my grandfather for leaving me. I loved him so much that all this years I would still find myself missing him. It has been nine years since he left me and I still long for the day when I would go home and he would hug me. I still long for the day when I could hear his voice again and he would hear me do my monologues, or agonize over my out of tune voice while I sing to him my favorite songs. I long for his company when I watch news broadcasts in television. I miss my grandfather so much, and no words can describe the longing that I felt.
I wish he could see me now. I wish he could see how near I am in becoming a journalist. I wish he could see my name in our weekly student newspaper and he would beam with pride. Yes, Lolo, my name is in the newspaper too. I am a writer just like you.
But all I can do now is wish. My Lolo is in a far away place now. I don’t know if he could see me cry every night. I don’t know if he misses me too. It doesn’t matter though. As long as he is alive in my heart, even death could not separate us. As long as I keep his memory alive, he will be with me.
Someday, I will become a journalist, a writer just like my Lolo. I know he will be proud of that. I hope I could see him smile each time he would see my name in the newspaper or see me in television.
Yes Lolo, I hope you are smiling now. I am still a thousand steps away from my dream, but don’t worry Lolo I can reach it. I will gladly go the thousand steps for you.
I hope you could read this in heaven Lolo, or do you have newspapers there too?
Don’t worry Lolo; I will keep all my writings so if the time comes that we would meet again you can read everything.
For now, I’d settle for the memory of your smile.
