Today my grandfather would have been 85. He died of pulmonary and heart complications 5 years ago. I did not have a chance to know well the man my mother calls “Tatay” or father. In all my 30 years, I have only met him a couple of times. Right after I turned 3 and my mother with another baby in tow, we used to live in my grandfather’s house while my father started a new job in another town, 12-hours ship ride away.

I was three and could not remember every detail of our life in that house. They say Tatay was more fond of little boys than cutesy girls so I would assume he adored my little brother than he adored me. But that is of little importance since he was always the kind old man to all of us whenever he would visit years after we transferred to the new town to be with my father.

Today is November 11, Tatay’s birthday but my mother’s siblings (Tatay’s sons and daughters) find it hard to celebrate this day because they are used to a different birth date. With some errors in the Philippine public documentation, Tatay’s birth certificate says he was born in October 5. His first-born, my aunt was coincidentally born on the same day and due to some stupid superstitious belief that a family member sharing the same birth day is bad luck, my aunt was separated from her parents at an early age, to grow in another house spoilt rotten.

As the first born, she was the apple of my grandfather’s eyes although she brought nothing but heartaches for him. Oh, the love of a parent to his child! Years later when Tatay got sick and wasn’t able to give in to anything she demands, she refused to visit him in his sick bed. He ultimately died sad and brokenhearted.

I was not able to come home to his funeral being miles and miles away in Japan. When I received a phone call that he expired, I just said a silent prayer and wish he’d find peace now.

While registering his death at the local municipality office my mom’s family discovered a heart-wrenching truth; that Tatay’s real birthday was no where coinciding with his first born’s, he was born on November 11 and she, on October 5. What a waste. Too many years wasted just because of a typographical and careless mistake. Too many years wasted on a faulty superstition.

But today, I won’t linger on the sad part. I will celebrate Tatay’s life, remember the days when he used to come and visit us and bring fresh meat and vegetables and fruits from the province, see him whispering to my mom, “are you tired?”, “does the children need anything?”, to see the man who struggled with work left and right just to get all his seven children to college.

Tatay, wherever you are now, I hope you know that I miss you very much. I am so sorry I wasn’t able to see you one last time but in my heart and in my memories, you are always the loving man with a very genuine smile and a warm heart.

Today, I am thankful of knowing my grandfather even if we were not physically close before. I am thankful of the great memories I have with him and thankful for the way he raised my mother, instilled in her the correct values that she, in turn instilled to her children.