A good role model

All the other kids called their father “Daddy” or “Papa,” but these never seemed to fit you. Ever since I was a baby I have always called you “Tatay,” the Tagalog equivalent, for which no word could be more homely and affectionate.

I have fond memories of you putting on your Navy uniform, always well-pressed, before you left for work. Your hair was always neatly combed and your shoes well polished. You had that trim, athletic figure that you maintain up to now, even as you near your 60s. You encouraged everyone else to keep fit and get regular exercise.

You worked in the Navy for 25 years; it was a tiring job, but you always managed to find time to help us do our assignments when you got home. At night, even as you were exhausted, you’d read us a storybook before we slept.

You are the breadwinner of the family, like most other fathers, but you can also easily be a “houseband,” as they call men like you nowadays. It was from you that I learned how to cook adobo, to do the laundry, to tidy up the house, to change the diapers of my baby brothers, and to handle puppy poop. I’ll never forget your lessons on ironing clothes and washing dishes.

In your late 40s you decided to become a pilot. Starting a new career in your middle age was a difficult decision, but you did it because you wanted to send your five children to good schools. Your job involved losing sleep and enduring jet lag from travelling through different time zones, but you never complained. At home when I studied my school books, you were also poring over your Airbus manuals, preparing for your next flight.

You always wanted your family to stick together. While other parents chose to work overseas to support their loved ones, it was never an option for you. You wanted to stay here with Mama and the children. Family dinner is sacred; everyone has to be present at the table. Every year, when we celebrate your wedding anniversary, you and Mama always fondly recount how you first met. Mama always says, “You know what attracted me to your Tatay, what set him apart from other guys? He had clean eyes.” And this is something you have up to now: clean, kind eyes that crinkle at the corners when you smile.

We never know what to get you for your birthday or for Christmas because you never show your personal preferences for anything. You are always giving yourself, thinking of others. I remember when you got me a new cell phone: You showed me how to use it as you held your own phone which badly needed replacing. You don’t spend much on yourself, but you don’t think twice about helping someone in need.

I am always struck by how pious you are, each morning getting on your knees to pray. You go to Mass every day, even if you just arrived from a red-eye flight. Before you leave for a flight, we’d pray together as a family for everyone’s safety. A fond image I have of you is dozing off during the family rosary, because you are so tired.

Perhaps you have done nothing out of the ordinary to be a good father; you have done what other good fathers would do. But witnessing your good example is more instructive to me than all the values classes in school, or the sermons you and Mama have give me. I will always be thankful to have my Tatay as a good role model.

Alexia Adizon, 24, is a teacher from Bacolod City. Her Tatay, Manny Adizon, is a pilot at Cebu Pacific.