In my last entry I spoke about how I struggled to remember my dad’s face. I still to do, but like I said, at least there are photos and videos to help me remember what he looked like.
The odd thing is that as the days go by I keep thinking about him more especially now that I am just a week before giving birth. Is this some kind of a sign of something? Is there something he wants to tell me? or is it just my hormones kicking in?
Today, I went to my swimming class and I saw some little boys and girls holding the hands of their dad. Immediately I thought about him – I mean it was just automatic. I thought, what would it be like if he was around to hold my son’s or daughter’s hand. It’s been twenty years since he passed away but there is still this longing inside me that wishes he was around at this very important event in my life.
On my way back to our flat I still think of him and I while putting my thoughts into words for this blog I realized how grateful I am to host his 19th year anniversary last year. Despite my relative’s request to do it this year because it’s his 20th anniversary I decided to push through with the celebration last year because I always live my life as if it is my last.
Thanks to those who came to spend their Sunday afternoon with us to celebrate my dad’s life. Thank you also to the UCCP members, my mom and dad’s relatives and to my friends who came to celebrate with us. I am also delighted for Mr. Norberto Betita who gave an extremely beautiful message about my dad. I could not have said it better myself the way he described my father.
Please see link here for his full speech: https://bit.ly/35n7H92. Excerpts from Mr. Betita’s speech:
I remembered him most during those silent moments and quiet encounters we have at the campus. He must not have known it himself, but I found him to be a very humble man of God. His gentle smile and soft tone, when not in an oratory, reflected kindness and meekness. His manly bearing and countenance invited honor and respect. Even his ever enduring style of a flat-top hair, when most men were sporting “tagalog” cut and I was even wearing a long hair and beard, to me manifested his moral consistency, bearing his integrity with conscious dignity.
Indeed, the memorable story of Reverend Azarcon’s ministry will endure well forever as being part of that Christian edifice he pioneered in Surigao City—The Presbyterian Church. The pleasant scent of his exemplary life and the illuminating rays of the light demonstrated in his remarkable Christian life and ministry, warranted for him a state of peace and rest, where no tears should be shed and no sorrows remain. His lifetime of service to God and His people qualified and guaranteed for him an exalted sphere in the place, which John, the beloved apostle, described as a condition where, “…God shall wipe away all tears from [his] eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God, and he shall be my son.” (Revelation 21:4, 7)
I remember how emotional I was reminiscing about that fateful day of December 31st 1999. It was not very easy to recall the memory of losing someone especially on a very special occasion being helpless no money and all you are holding onto is a miracle. My dad died two hours before the the New Year of the new millennium. While the world was so busy, I imagine they had firecrackers, lots of food, and guests, and there I was sitting in the lobby waiting for the funeral parlor to collect my dad’s body.
It’s been twenty years already but it still feels just like yesterday. While New Year’s eve used to be an occasion for a fun party, the night of December 31st became instead a moment to remember dad’s death – and to celebrate his life. He only lasted 10 hours after the heart attack began, and his last words were “Into thy hands I commend my spirit.” He said he wanted to go home, and at 10pm, he did.
Effe moves to the UK 