(We are re-printing this piece we wrote on Feb. 20, 2002issue as our way of remembering Father's Day- DAB)

Yesterday's gospel was lifted from Matthew 6:15. It said: "In praying do not babble like pagans, who think that they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them. Your Father knows what you need before you ask him". Them it went on to teach as the Lord's prayer.

As I read yesterday's gospel, I tried to discern its significance to this man's life because it fell on the day Victor died.

I do not know how he got his name. But I am convinced that he was able to live up to his name despite being a Plebeian.

I rarely heard Victor spoke of his childhood. As I grew up to know more of the man, I realized that he did not want to talk about it. Besides, he did not regard me that much being the youngest person he was able to deal with.

I was told that he was orphaned at the age of 10. At Grade IV, he started smoking and kept on skipping classes in Tawid, Anda. That was to be his highest educational attainment.

Then he was exposed to the elements of life. How he landed in Cebu City before Word War II that, too, I do not know. All I know is that it was in Cebu City where he met a salesgirl while driving a taxi. He married the salesgirl.

When war broke out, Victor and his wife came back to Bohol. After the war, the couple decided to seek greener pasture in the Land of Promise. It turned out that the greener pasture Victor sought was, in the literal sense, a pasture.

Considering his lowly beginnings he came out victorious in the end. Victor did not only establish his own family, he sow the seeds in his land for a good harvest of his children.

Majority, if not all, of his children complained against Victor as a father. He was a disciplinarian , they said. He could have been charged of child abuse if only such law exists in those days. Victor kept on mouthing a language like a Spanish tormentor even I he was poorly educated.

His children said Victor did not know the value of compliment. Instead of getting a pat in their back for doing the job he assigned to them, they got a dressing down for not doing more than what was expected. His principle as a father is stoical: he always the final say and none of his children says more than that of him.

Like how child psychologists encourage fathers to be "friends" with their children, Victor is the exact opposite. In his heydays, Victor's children quiver to the bones even at the mere sight of him. This is especially so if it is a Sunday when Victor takes times out from his very rigid farm work and sips a lot of swigs in town.

When his first-born was not able to finish the course of Victor's choice, he hated education to the prejudice of his other children. He frowned upon seeing medals brought home by some of his children who managed to pursue their courses.

Until one day, Victor realized that he could not keep his children to the bondage of the soil. He was simply resigned to the idea that the educational achievements of his children are but the very products of his labor.

Then, he savored success in the twilight of his life. But savor he did still in his very own way.

Yesterday, Victor died and I gravely mourn his death. As a child, I thought my ideas were simply discarded by Victor. I felt he did not regard me that much because I am the youngest of his children.

I tried my best to prove to him that I am worth the admiration. I tried to beat him n every game we engaged like dama and poker in those nights when only Victor, my mother and me were the only ones left at home because all the others already have their own lives to live.

I mourn Victor's death because it came at a time when I felt that he already believe in me, when my ideas became his guide and when he regarded me as the person who has the final say.

I mourned because yesterday, my father died.

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