If I Would Have My Name Endure, I’ll Write It On The Hearts Of Men

I wrote my name upon the sand,
And trusted it would stand for aye;
But soon, alas, the refluent sea
Had washed my feeble lines away.

I carved my name upon the wood,
And, after tears, returned again;
I missed the shadow of the tree
That stretched of old upon the plain.

To solid marble next my name
I gave as a perpetual trust;
An earthquake rent it to its base,
And now it lies o’erlaid with dust.

All these have failed. In wiser mood
I turn and ask myself, what then?
If I would have my name endure,
I’ll write it on the hearts of men…"

This was one of my father’s favorite poems by Horacio Alger which I think guided him in his life. He wanted to live a life with meaning. He knew that to write for his countrymen was his calling although he said he really wanted to be a general. I guess this explains his closeness to the military, armed forces, police force and the navy.

It was just befitting for him to have his wake at the Armed Forces of the Philippines, Camp Aguinaldo Complex — for he loved military honors. Whenever he was invited to be honored at Camp Crame or at the Philippine Military Academy in Baguio – he always accepted and was excited about the events. I am very happy that the colonels, captains, majors, generals many of whom were close to him gave him the respect. He had supported their cause all the way. Now, after his death, they still remain loyal friends to him for they have all supported our family during our times of bereavement and they continue to honor the man who has been a comrade to them.

During the internment from November 28 to November 30, many of his friends, colleagues and readers paid their last respects to him. Some just wanted to have a moment of their time with him in silence. I saw how my father has touched the hearts of people from the visitors alone who came that week and the letters we have received. It was a confirmation on my part that indeed, people loved and admired him. There were readers and friends who came all the way from Mindanao, Visayas and distant places of Luzon – from cigarette vendors, counter boys, guards to statesmen. All of whom had their little vignettes to share with the family.

The scheduled burial on December 1, Friday, had to be postponed. I had to consult my mother and my eldest cousin, Father Louie about it. In one of our conversations, I was reminded about what my grandmother had written in her book Pelagia V. Soliven, A Woman So Valiant, about how my father was born:

"…As fortune would have it, around midnight, September 3, 1929, my contractions began coming at regular intervals, which meant that I had gone into labor. The baby had decided it was time to be born. I described to Benito what was happening to me and asked him to take me to the Philippine General Hospital, about three kilometers from where we were living at that time. Driving to the hospital meant driving into the worst part of the storm. Powerful cold winds pummeled our car windshield. Rain came down in torrent on all sides. Taft Avenue had turned into a swollen river, with vehicles stalled all along its stretch. The gale force winds were powerful enough to send a tree or an electric post crashing into our path, or even into us! Indeed, electric cables, torn from their wooden posts, were swaying wildly in the wind! It was terrible to behold. Benito concentrated on his way driving, and I on my prayers for our safe conduct to the hospital. By a miracle of God’s goodness, we made it! … I offered my pains to the Lord, begging for his assistance. Our prayers were richly answered, because on September 4, 1929, at exactly 6:00 am, Max was safely born. Our firstborn child was also our baby of the storm."

He was the "baby of the storm" and so I thought maybe it was not coincidental that a storm would hit Manila during the day of his burial. It was a tough decision to make but my mother and I wanted to enjoy this last passage. We want to have good memories even of his funeral with the military departure honors of which I am pretty sure my father would also love. So, we had rescheduled it for the second week of January (we will announce the details later). Meantime, we get to spend Christmas and New Year’s Eve with him. My coming baby, Claire Dominique will also get to have memories of her grandfather during his brief stay.

In retrospect, I have a strong feeling that the sudden turn of events for the funeral was destined for us. My father always wanted his family to be happy and in peace. His love is so much felt up to this day in our home from the way he cared for our home – not just the family and the household staff but also our fishes? Yes, he would feed them food every morning.

I think he wanted to be with us over the holidays – so instead of grieving over his death and not having him around – he made it a point to be with us. So that little by little, we are free from suffering and fully accept his death.

I would like to thank all of you, his readers, who have shown sympathy to our family and honor to my father. Up to this day, I am one with you in missing his daily columns. As we turn the pages of the Philippine STAR to where my father used to have his columns, we find it empty – thus, the emptiness and sadness still lingers. I know that he has become your companion for breakfast every single day of the week (except for Saturday, on his day off). I know that it is not easy to get use to the sudden lost.

I hope the Philippine STAR will continue to respect and honor the man even after his death. My father has given his whole life to the Philippine STAR. He has fought for it, protected it and has cared so much for its members and staff – I hope his work will not be put in vain. You know, in these modern times, as soon as a person dies, he is no longer respected but instead forgotten. Do not worry papa, I will keep that fire burning and I am sure others will do the same.