There was one story that touched my family deeply, which was conveyed to us during his wake by a lay minister that served with him in Santuario de San Antonio.
The lay minister told us that there was an election for President for our local Parish. To put this in context, our local parish is unique in the sense that it's members were not the usual masses that Jesus speaks of in the gospel. Santuario de San Antonio, Forbes Park Makati is home to followers of the faith who belong to the richest part of Philippine society.Being President was not merely a call to serve God, but also, limelight in the presence of those by themselves were famous already, if not for their wealth, but for their place in Philippine society as a whole.
My father was not one for the limelight, this was one thing he had in common with Governor Dodo Mandanas of Batanagas (a relative, who would introduce my father as his kin to people). They both did not like to use sirens when traveling. He felt it was unnecessary and should only be used for emergency situations. Yet, he was nominated by his peers in the church for the position. It did not make him comfortable, but he believed that if God wanted him to serve this way, then so be it.
The nominees were asked to introduce themselves before the committee and say why they should be voted President. We were told that the first nominee spoke on how he was able to donate for the sake of charity to the Barangay of San Antonio, Makati and was experienced in giving to the community.
My father was not one to upstage others, especially when the end-purpose was just to serve the public. When it was my father's turn, he said thank you to the previous speaker, and that having grown up in San Antonio, Makati, he was most likely a beneficiary of such gracious donations that the speaker spoke of. He then humbly offered himself to the committee, stating that he could not give financial contributions but promised to dedicate his time and efforts if he were elected.
We were told that in the end, it looked like a race between my father and an older lady.
The ballots were tallied. It was a secret ballot. My father lost by one vote.
After the election a Priest went up to my father and implicitly asked why did he not vote for himself. My father replied "I'm still young and can serve in many other ways for the Lord. If it was meant that I serve him this way, then so be it."
For my dad, it was not important that he oust someone else from giving back to the community. He felt that everyone had a purpose, and if public service, either in government or religious/community, motivated people to step up and serve, then why stop able-bodied persons from doing so.
The person who told us this held my father in high regard because he showed that you did not have to step on other people to serve if your purpose is public service. Stories like these remind me that even the smallest things you do, if your intentions are good, your life will be remembered in the hearts of all those you come across.
The photos posted are those of the lay minister "thingy" (sorry I forget the real term) my dad used to wear while serving communion and/or lecturing in church. One of them has a blood stain on it. His blood stain. Might have been in his car when he was shot. Possible because my father was on the way to Makati for a meeting with my mom when he was ambushed.
I still remember how they'd put my father as a lecturer during the early hours around 6am cause he was one of the few who could wake up and serve at that time. He'd also get the Tagalog shifts for he was rather proficient at it (I only found out that my dad's first language was Tagalog when I turned 13!).
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