‘Losing a father, gaining a hero’

When almost every waking hour of your day revolved around somebody and that person is gone, how do you expect to go on as if everything is normal?

I was in my hotel room in Bahrain where I was to meet my father, when text messages kept coming in telling me that he was either dying or dead. At dawn of Dec. 14 in Bahrain, the steady stream of messages turned into a deluge of condolences sent by people who knew my father. It was my brother Dionisio, who lives in Los Angeles, California, who confirmed to me also via text, that our father had truly passed away.

My father was a truly extraordinary man. He lived simply and wisely — never for once bothering with luxuries that his stature as a politician could instantly bring. His passion was for books and his heart was in his pen. I was always fascinated by the manner by which he would pick up his pen to write a speech or weekly newspaper column in long hand, coffee and cigarettes within easy reach.

First, he would sit and cross his legs. Then he would have that stare, indicating a mind in action. A sip of coffee, a few puffs on his cigarette then he would bow his head and confront the blank yellow pad on his desk with the nib of his favorite pen. His first draft would take but a few minutes. I have always thought that when he writes, words flowed from his pen like magic. Like most professional writers, my father would write then rewrite until he was satisfied with the clarity of his work.

Ka Blas, as he is fondly called by associates and friends, never missed a deadline. This journalistic discipline followed him wherever he went as a former senator, Senate president and secretary of foreign affairs. Even in his work as a public servant, deadlines were not to be taken lightly. At the Department of Foreign Affairs, he met his undersecretaries and assistant secretaries every Monday morning and listened as they briefed him about developments around the world. These meetings were democratic yet well-focused with the Secretary himself writing the agenda. During these weekly meetings, Ka Blas and his staff set their own deadlines and defined the best interests of the country which they could then recommend to the President.

Reporters ask me what I thought was my father’s biggest achievement in his more than 30 years of service to the people. To me, I believe his foresight in opening the doors to overseas employment during the oil crisis of the early 70’s could be his biggest achievement. It was he who recommended to then President Ferdinand Marcos the pivotal policy of negotiating the supply of skilled workers with foreign governments. The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia welcomed our engineers, oil drillers and construction workers and they flew in, settled in the desert and drove their families out of poverty. Other nations followed suit and the Filipino Diaspora continue to reap economic miracles. It transformed countless of nipa huts in the countryside into concrete homes and has kept our economy afloat through any global crisis. It led to the education of poor yet deserving students and the upgrading of skills of our very own migrant workers. Even today, several countries have sought the help of our government in putting up their own overseas employment program. There is of course a downside to the continued outflow of our precious citizens. But given an economy that relies on limited domestic savings and investments, the government’s policy of overseas employment has long ceased to be a mere stop-gap measure. It has become our collective means of survival in an era of globalization.

It would be hard to face life without my father’s sobering voice and gentle sense of humor. But in his 76 years on earth, he imparted so many lessons that we, who love and know him, could simply pick one as a crisis looms. Always, he would remind us to be kind and humble. He was selfless in sharing his knowledge of domestic and world affairs with colleagues, friends and ordinary Filipinos eager to ask him a question or two. When I was a child, I remember him walking over to a huddle of jeepney drivers parked outside our old home in Project 6 just to chat about life. He used to write a column entitled "Jeepney Tales" in the Daily Mirror.

Ka Blas was both global and parochial. In his writings, he was eloquent in both Pilipino and English. His vision was never cluttered with penny ante details. There was nothing trivial nor petty about him. Even his death was for a cause.

How do we, who have planned our lives around his, now go on without him? It would be like learning how to walk again, breathe and think again — but this time on our own, without my father to run to. For now, to continue living purposeful and productive lives would have to suffice. Showing kindness to the less privileged, supporting the government in all efforts to uplift the poor, looking after the needs of overseas workers when being flagrantly ignored — these would all be part of our family’s plans for the future.

We deeply appreciate President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo’s decision to give my father a hero’s burial. We are touched by the grief shown by the reporters who have covered him in the past as well as his long-standing friends in media. We are humbled and gratified by the outpouring of affection from people of all walks of life, from here and abroad.

My dad passed away in the twilight of his years, having conquered the world despite his unfinished education. Now he is with our Maker, where his wisdom shall be made complete.

He has done his work for his country. Let others carry on.