Feeling Like A Monday

Haay. Feels like a Monday when it should feel like a Saturday night (Bon Jovi).

Just keep pushing I guess.

Maybe I should get more acupuncture.

I love fog and cold weather

I love fog and cold weather. Forget the beach, I'm a mountains and cold fog and weather guy. Give me the quiet mountains away from the sea, and optionally, a log cabin with pine, and ill be fine.

Thanks to Tricie and everyone as well for the company during the weekend getaway.

Love Can Be Silent (A tribute to Judge Voltaire Y. Rosales)

this is the second of two articles I wrote about my father, the late Executive Judge Voltaire Y. Rosales, he was assassinated on June 10, 2004 a few meters away from his court in Tanauan, Batangas. Taken from the Philippine Daily Inquirer and re-posted for my Dad's memory.







Love Can Be Silent




The sound of silence can be deafening. Love in silence, can be the most unbearable. To those who must feel love through articulation or verbal expression, silence is the cold air that chills the heart in times of loneliness. But this was not the case with my father. Everyone who has met my father has always said that he was a quiet man. He had the demeanor of a wise man, who listened to all, and said what is needed. With my father, his actions of love spoke much louder than the few I love yous that would ever leave his mouth. His love was always felt, even when he was not physically present. One way this was done was through his cell phone. He probably had the highest bill among all of us in the family, but it was worth every peso because we knew majority, if not all his calls were to each of his family. He rarely texted us, but he always called. The few texts he would send were very concise. “Where are you?”, “how are you doing?” and “please take care of yourself” were one of the most common messages I would receive. Love would be felt with every text.

I often wondered why he was so quiet. I guess he always felt good intentions are better seen than heard. Everyone says they want change, but it is the individual who works for it, who sees beyond the pessimism of the world and actually perseveres for what is right, not popular, will be the one who makes the real change- these thoughts he would express to me as I grew up.

One time we had a fight because he didn’t take his medicines for his diabetes. I ended saying an expletive at him and saying “ganyan na pala? Kanya kanyang buhay na? Bahala ka na diyan!” I left his room and not even five minutes later, I texted him “I’m sorry dad it’s just that we have some much to worry about you have to live long for me, I love you very much.” He replied with, “Its ok, I love you too.”

The week before his death, it happened again. Same fight, but this time I could sense him being very tired. He replied, but this time it was only an “its ok”. Troubled I walked to his room repeatedly saying sorry and asking if he was mad (which was rhetorical because he never got mad, it was more of leading him to say whatever was bothering him.) He said, “it’s nothing, I’m just very tired”. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be tired, I have been accustomed to his diabetic ways, but that Sunday was the most disturbing experience I’ve ever had with my father. For the first time in quite awhile, I felt something was tiring him more than usual. Maybe it was a premonition, or just a case he was thinking about, but I had never feared so much for my best friend.

The moments preceding his death was a testament to his beautiful love which he blessed our family with. My father had a gruesome death that not even an animal should be given. He was shot at close range 5 times in the head, shattering his brain. By all accounts he should have just dropped dead with his mortal wounds. But my father in order to avoid hitting people on the street, managed to swerve the car to a wall. He got out of the driver’s side of the car and fell on the street. My father lived for more than 2 hours with his wounds. I’ve heard stories of praise of how, with the injuries he had sustained, that it was unbelievable that he lived to be brought to a hospital. No cries of pain were heard, knowing my father, he kept it to himself and like other times when he was sick, he prayed for God’s mercy.

My mother on the other hand was determined to be with Dad right away. She was rushing with my sister, grandmother and aunt from our house to Tanauan, Batangas which is a good one hour and a half away. She was praying to God, “Please, Lord, Just one minute!” As the car speedily drove towards Tanauan City which my father dedicated his life to serving, my mother got a call telling her my father was still alive.

I was on the way home when I heard the news. My body felt so weak. My legs felt like jelly as I took every step, and I was close to breaking down as I entered the house. Every moment I could feel my dad’s pain and feared for the unknown as it was hard to contact my mom and sister. I fell into a delirium talking to my father asking him to give me strength to take what had happened to him.

It was about 1 o’clock when my mother reached him. It was a sight no wife or daughter should ever see- A husband, a father, drenched in a pool of his own blood hanging on to dear life through God’s favour. His silence was like a knife cutting through their hearts, something that even I could feel all the way in our house at Makati. When my mother arrived, my father had one eye shut and the other half open. My mother wishing for my father’s pain to end and for him to rest, closed his half open eye. Then the miracle was seen. My father opened his eye and then my mom knew that God had answered her prayers for that one minute with him. Tears falling from her face, she told my dad “I love you very much, and I know you love me” and with that my father smiled for the last time and died in my Mom’s embrace.

It is a tale that will forever echo in my mind. Even with my father’s silence he touched us with his love to the very end. In a way it was as if God taught him to prepare us for this tragic end. It’s not easy being just three now, but dad always said God does things for a reason. His silence has taught us to feel him even without his physical presence. It is a surreal experience to lose someone so violently. I always believed a man devoted to the Sacred Heart and always in the service as a Eucharistic minister would always be protected by our Lord.

God though has a bigger mission for him. That is probably why he had to go that way. Going quietly would have made him a statistic. Because of his brutal murder, people have become aware of the dangers of being a judge in this country. Judges are the front liners in the dispensation of justice as well as sitting ducks for hardened criminals who did not agree with the decision of the judge. They are a mighty tough crowd that silently serves their country, risking their own life and the future of their family.
Let this be the last atrocity to face our judges. It is no piece of cake losing a father, a best friend all in one. He is a hero without a doubt. To this misguided government he was a statistic. That should not be the case, judges are human beings with loved ones just like any other mayor or congressman or any other official. There must be reforms to protect and support judges and their families during their life and after their demise.

His physical presence may be gone, but his undying love for God, his family and his country will be eternally remembered. I will miss his caring voice, loving handshake and the tight hugs which made me feel secure and happy. When all is said and done, we will return to the silence of our home, but we will forever feel the silent presence of my father, my dad, my hero and as always, my best friend.

Lux In Domino Award Ateneo (Given to the late Executive Judge Voltaire Y. Rosales)

Taken from the Ateneo Law School Newsletter made by Father Joaquin Bernas, Dean Emeritus of the Law School in 2005. Click on the pictures for a bigger version.




The Lux in Domino Award is a special recognition of an extraordinary individual who has incarnated in life, and perhaps even in death, in an exemplary manner, the noblest ideals of the Ateneo de Manila University. Recipients of the award are chosen exclusively from the ranks of alumni or alumnae of the Ateneo de Manila University.

The title of the Award is taken from the motto of the Ateneo which appears both in the old and new seals. Taken from St Paul (Ephesians 5:8), the phrase Lux in Domino, “light in the Lord,” traces an ideal and sketches a way of life which the Ateneo holds up to her sons and daughters as their path of Christian discipleship. These words illuminate the purposes and aims of the University which point that the Ateneo is FILIPINO, CATHOLIC, and JESUIT:

FILIPINO, in that she seeks service to the nation and the objectives of genuine national development.

CATHOLIC, in that her fundamental character is the Gospel of Jesus and the beatitudes; that her guidelines are those of the teaching of the Catholic Church. In the contemporary perspective, those guidelines focus on service to the Faith which today includes the Promotion of Justice as a constitutive dimension of the task of evangelization.

JESUIT, in that she seeks to live the Filipino and Catholic marks in the spirit of the magis (the “ever more”): to seek the ever more generous, the ever more “totally given” service; nothing held back, in the spirit of the Ignatian prayer,

to give and not to count the cost,

to fight and not to seek for rest,

to labour and ask for no reward…

To be “light in the Lord,” in all fullness may demand a following of Christ even to the offering of one’s life.

My Father the Judge (Tribute to Judge Voltaire Y. Rosales)

First of two parts. This is a re-post, partly from files people request from me when they want to know more about my dad and some newspaper clippings. I've decided to re-publish some of my written work on this blog in the next few weeks. The work that shall be posted came from two Philippine Daily Inquirer articles I wrote which were published a few days after my Dad was killed. I've decided to also post an old PDF file made by Father Joaquin Bernas, which he sent to his old constitution classes in Ateneo Law School (which was then sent to me by one of his students). All for the purpose of keeping my Dad's memory alive. It's a father son thing.

Photo of Dad from my album

My father, the judge
Posted: 0:03 AM (Manila Time) | Jun. 16, 2004
By Vic Rosales
Inquirer News Service
An upright man

MY FATHER, Judge Voltaire Rosales of Tanauan, Batangas, was an upright man. He never stole from the government. Jueteng and drug lords would offer him bribes, but he would refuse them. He would tell people from the underworld to give the money to the church. He was a lay minister for 16 years. He always told me that integrity cannot be bought.

One time a guy left a big box full of thousand-peso bills at our house. He threw it back at him and told him to never come back.
My dad became a judge because he had always wanted to work for his province. Every day, he would motor to Batangas from our residence in Dasmariñas Village, Makati. He didn't mind not making money. We were okay as mom is the business type. They were married for 21 years and their love for each other was unwavering.

My dad was my best friend. Every day, he would call me up to ask what time my dismissal was. He would then look at the movie schedule and we would always meet at Greenbelt 4 (he would come all the way from Batangas).

We would watch a movie practically every day of the week. It didn't matter what movie. We would even watch the same movie twice if we had the time. It was because of his constant company that I never tried smoking or drugs.

But he would cancel the treat if he had to work overtime in Batangas. At one time, when I was with him in Batangas and he was about to close shop at 6, he saw several old women crying. When he learned that their young kin had been arrested but they could not post bail because no one wanted to bother with them, he said we'd catch a later show and ordered the office hours extended to allow the women to post bail. "Justice delayed is justice denied," he said.

When it came to high-profile cases, he never liked being on camera. In a celebrated promulgation covered on television, he just had the secretary read the verdict while he walked away from the cameras.

Somebody once offered to write an editorial in praise of him, but he just said that God is the only one he wishes to please.

He was my billiards buddy. Every night, we would play a game, a rotation of 9-ball, either race to three if he was tired, or race to five if he was not.

He always made time for me. When I was diagnosed with clinical depression, he would stay by my bedside and watch TV with me till I fell asleep. I once saved up and bought him a nice billiard cue.

It was he who taught me to be happy staying at home-with my family. While people my age were clubbing or partying late, I was at home enjoying my family.

My father was the pillar of my family. He was such a family man. He made our simple four-member family seem very big. He always told me to take care of my sister. I promise you, Dad, I will.

He was a nice person. To this day I cannot find a single person who could say he was a mean man. He was always considerate and polite.

A holy man

My father was a holy man. When I was 6, he wanted me to become an altar boy, just like him when he was a kid. But I guess the rebel in me wanted to be different.

Whenever we quarreled, he would tell me, even with my weak faith, "Son, no matter what, there is a God."
Even if he knew I hated going to church, he would tell me, "Even if you just pass by or sit outside, that is good enough, as long as your intention is sincere, God will help you get back."

It was he who taught me to pray in the chapel whenever I had problems. I got the habit from him to pray and reflect in the chapel, to ask God for strength. I have to admit the habit has helped me in the toughest of times. My daddy gave me the string that has kept me connected to God.

He always told me, "Son, I may not be able to give you the luxuries of life, but know that what I am doing is right and it is what must be done. Someday you'll have this, the only thing I can give you."

It was his ring that his father had given him. It had a "V" on it. He had shown it to me so many times. I wear it now.

I lift my dad up to the Lord. I ask the Lord to take care of my dad and give him peace. I ask the Lord to give me the strength to take care of my mom and my sister.

My daddy used to tell me, "Son, as long as you do what is right, do what God wants for yourself, your family and your country, you will be protected by God."

That is why he never bothered bringing along a bodyguard.

In this sick system we have in the Philippines, it is the good people who get killed while the evil ones enjoy their loot at the expense of the people.

My dad did not deserve to be killed. He was no criminal to be shot in the head.

He died because he refused to give in to peer pressure. He died because he refused to tarnish his name and the judicial system's integrity.

We are alone now. At night it will be just us. My days after school will be much lonelier without the after-class movies and late-night billiards. Saturday-night movies will never be the same again without the wisecracks of my dad.

But Dad will always be with us. And I know he can be an inspiration to those who work in government, that by loving God and others with a sincere heart, they can be happier than anyone and have the joy that no material possession can ever give.

I miss my father, I miss my best friend.

God bless you, Dad. I love you.

The author is the 20-year-old son of Judge Voltaire Rosales who was ambushed recently by a lone gunman in Tanauan City. The killer is still free.

Can You Be A Hero in Your Own Hometown?

My Dad used to console me about my fears of losing him and having nothing to keep for it but a memory.

He used to tell me that you can never be a hero, even in your own home town. Even Jesus was scorned in his home province, so what more did my dad, a regular human being have, that would make things any different?

In life, the important decisions you make will be best judged after you're dead, he used to say.

We have a plaque, but it had nothing against our pain. Maybe someone still remembers.

Out for the Underdog

My Dad did not like it when poor people were treated badly simply for being poor or helpless. My dad was out for the pobres (poor folk). He believed that someone had to fight for the underdog simply because they obviously could not fight for themselves.

Very anti-darwinian, but very christian nonetheless.

This reminds me of a time when one of the people that used to work for him in court started treating some pobre outside his court like a rag doll.

Sometimes, people act over zealous when trying to be cordon-sanitaires (security lines), and that one time a court employee started pushing around a pauper trying to get to court.

My Dad walked out screaming at the court employee "wag kang ganun sa pobre!" (don't treat poor people like that!).

Dad was never the type to be passive and let abuses go on. I have so many memories of my father standing up for what he believed in. So many memories, yet, only some are in words.

The picture below is the award the De La Salle University gave my Dad (before Ateneo gave him the Lux-in-domino award). It was the first ever Ka Pepe Diokno Award for being a Champion of Human Rights.