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My finest treasure

This story originally appeared in the Philippine Daily Inquirer on November 1, 2005. 

All throughout my childhood years, my father prepared me for his tragic death. I don’t know if it was premonition since it is among my earliest memories. Maybe he was joking or maybe he just wanted to see me close to tears.

And then he died. He had been choked and stabbed—that was the most I could get from my mom. He was brought to the hospital and lived for four days before finally breathing his last.

It was the worst day of my life and for everyone in our family. After almost a decade, I still look back to it with a painful heart. Father had no estate, no land, not even money in the bank. But he left me something more than wealth. He left me valuable lessons, little things that he instilled in me from the time I was young. And those simple things he shared with me are all I need to understand the complexity of life today. 

First, he taught me to believe in magic. Growing up with him was an adventure. Often I would be superwoman flying across the house while his arms supported me. He could produce bubble gum or candy out of nowhere after saying some abracadabra. And he wrote me a letter once, pretending he was Santa Claus.

I’ve outgrown such things now, but I still never fail to appreciate the most trivial things like the rising of the sun or the blooming of a rosebud. Everything is magic, indeed, created by a magician far greater than my father. And I can’t help but be in awe of His power.

The second thing father taught me was to always do my best. I remember coming home from school in a foul mood because I didn’t get a perfect score in my exam. I thought he would get mad at me, but when he saw my test paper, he told me in a gentle voice that he would always be happy and proud of what I accomplished for as long as I did my best.

Now I seldom get perfect scores and I’m far from being the perfectionist little brat I used to be. But my father’s words are part of my everyday life. I put my best into everything I do. Most people may not appreciate it, but what the heck, I know someone is smiling at me from up above.

The third lesson I learned from my father was to appreciate my blessings and share them with others. One time, we were at the carnival and I was having a ride on those little swaying cars into which you insert tokens. Dad noticed a boy looking anxiously at one of the rides. He lifted the boy and put him on the little car and inserted a token.

He was always nice to everyone. In the playground, he would push my swing and everyone else’s. And from this I learned to share good things, no matter how big or small.

I also learned from my father that if I have something nice to say, I must say it. As a kid, I used to sing a lot, but even then I knew that I wasn’t a good singer. One time, I was singing in my room when he suddenly appeared on the door smiling and clapping his hands. He flattered me by saying I was good. Although I knew he was lying, I was proud of his compliment (and now I can sing shamelessly in karaoke bars).

Sometimes he would play word factory with me and my sister and deliberately lose the game. But then he always went out of his way to make others feel better about themselves.

Another thing he taught me was to always let loved ones know they are loved. Countless times he surprised us by bringing home fancy toys or taking us out at a moment’s notice. He would dedicate songs on the radio to my mom. And he would never leave home without telling us, “Take care” or “‘I love you,” and sending flying kisses to me and my siblings. 

Friendships were very important to him, and so were family ties. I remember attending all sorts of celebration. And it amuses me now how our family used to be so close to other relatives. We’d go out of town with them and have lunch or dinner every weekend at some relatives’ house. His friends would drop by our house to chat with him over coffee. And at his funeral, I was amazed by the number of people who came and told me over and over again that he was a very good man. 

Another thing he taught me was to help others whenever I can. On several occasions, he came home with blood on the seat covers of the taxi he was driving. One time, it was because of a pregnant woman. Another time, it was because he had brought to the hospital a fellow driver who had been stabbed. I can remember the strain on his face as he told these things to my mother. 

One time, he himself was hurt in a hold-up and he could not drive himself to the hospital. Another concerned taxi driver brought him to the nearest one. It strengthened his belief in the saying that good begets good. 

Follow your heart, he once told me. I never understood why he continued to drive a taxi. It’s not that I had anything against it, but he was overqualified for the job. He came from a good family, he had finished college and the economy wasn’t so bad then that he couldn’t have found a different job. But he kept driving taxis despite the disapproval of the people around him. He said he didn’t want to be stuck in an office doing paperwork. And I believed him. My dad was a people person. And he followed his heart to the very end.

Another lesson I learned from him was to be not afraid to say sorry. During his last hours, he wrote letters to several people, though we were able to get only the one for my grandfather, unfortunately. In that letter, three words were remarkably written in a childlike scribble, indicating how much he was in pain. And the three words were: “I am sorry.” 

The last lesson—and probably the most important one—I didn’t get directly from him, but from his life—the way he lived it and the way he died. I often ask myself why things are the way the are. Why do people get killed for no reason at all? Why do babies live for a day and die the next day? Why do people who have lost their minds continue to live? My father’s death brought me the sudden realization that some people live not to find meaning in their lives but to help others find meaning in theirs.

I’m not sure if my father found what he was searching for or if he was searching for anything at all. But there’s one thing I’m sure of: he has helped me in my quest and he continues to do so. And because of that, I can say I have found the finest treasure, and I thank my dad for it. 

Karissa Javier Torio

Karissa Javier Torio, 20, is a 5th year Computer Engineering student at the Technological Institute of the Philippines.

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