Late entry for November 1, 2006

Despite being exhausted from a very full day yesterday, I accepted my aunt's invitation to a Halloween Night Party at Duka Bay beach resort due to the lack of entertainment options in our city. Also, I've got to admit that my curiousity got the best of me. It was quite surprising to see that Filipinos are already adopting the Halloween custom. Although I've known about this holiday from books and movies, I didn't grew up practicing it the way they do in the States or at other western countries. I didn't know what to expect but I was just glad that I went as it turned out to be one of the important events in my trip. Anyway, here is the lowdown of what transpired.

My two sisters (Emily and Sande) and my cousin Mary June tagged along. My Aunt Agnes' (and her entourage   ) arrival was greeted with some acknowledgment as she is an incumbent city official. Although I'm proud of my aunt's accomplishments, I really don't care much about people's political status and of bureaucracy in general. In my opinion, some of these people think too highly of themselves, oblivious to the reality that they are really nobody of stature in the grand scheme of things. In a small pond, they're the big fish, but in the ocean, they're just bait for the bigger fish. I suppose I'm just not that easily impressed anymore with people who flaunt their clout and wealth and who expect to be treated like they're above everyone else. But hey, that's just me. 

Anyway, in the typical Filipino fashion, people started arriving almost two hours later. I also noticed that there was really no attempt to follow through with the Halloween theme and I barely saw anyone in costumes. There was a live band playing and although I appreciated the talent and entertainment, a feeling of boredom started creeping up on me. I was just about ready to call it a night when I heard the host welcomed the presence of an important guest. The name was unmistakably familiar to me and a feeling of excitement coursed through my veins. I was propelled into action and I enlisted my aunt's help to find out where that certain guest was seated. Before I knew it, I found myself led by the host to a table where I came face to face with the person I last saw more than 12 years ago. With my heart pounding loudly, I tentatively approached and introduced myself to my long lost godfather, Ducky Paredes.

Me: "Maninoy (Visayan for Godfather) Ducky, you might not remember me but I'm the daughter of your friend Loly. I just want to thank you for helping me out with my visa processing 12 years ago. I'm sorry that I never got the opportunity to write or contact you but I've been wanting to see you again to thank you personally. Thank you so very much for everything you've done for me and my family." At this point, my voice broke and I felt my tears forming, threatening to roll down my flushed cheeks.

DP: "Oh, I remember you. You're welcome. How've you been? You went to the States, right?" He flashed me a kind smile and gave me a pat on my back. He was just as zen-like as I remembered him to be.

Me: "Yes. I've been working as a nurse in Chicago and I got married four years ago. Thank you for making it possible. I don't know if you are aware that Papa had already passed away?" Trying to hold back the tears, I managed to mumble my response. I just hoped I wasn't making a spectacle of myself.  

DP: "It's good to know that you're doing fine. Yes, I know about your father's death. By the way, this is your Maninay (Visayan for Godmother)." He then directed my attention to the lady seated to his left side. With my one-track mind and focus, I almost forgot that he got company at his table. Geez!  What on earth happened to my manners? His wife, who was silently listening to our exchange, gave me hug. Although that was the first time that we met, I felt her warm sincerity. She stated that she was glad to know that her husband had helped me in some way. She then asked me a few questions about myself as well. I intimated that my godfather is my inspiration to pursue writing again. I told her that I dreamt of becoming a journalist just like him but I had to give up on that aspiration for practical reasons (went to Nursing school instead). She then informed me where I can find my godfather's blogs and published articles and encouraged me to submit my writings as well. Wow! Everything was just so overwhelming.  Feeling like I've accomplished what I needed to do, I bid them goodbye and headed back to my table. I was still trembling from the experience but a feeling of relief washed over me.

Pardon me if I seemed to be so melodramatic about the encounter. Let me share an excerpt from a previous post of mine to enlighten you why I was reduced to a sobbing mess over this.

I'm probably one of the few kids who got the lowest number of "ninongs" and "ninangs". I only had one of each. Obviously, I didn't get many presents when I was growing up. Sadly, my godmother died from breast cancer years ago and I can count with one hand the times I had contact with my godfather.  He was a journalist and held a vital position in the Malacanang Palace when I was in college. I remembered when I visited him in Malacanang Palace  in 1992, he arranged for a special tour for me and my classmates (we were taking our board review). He also gave me a money gift based on my age (100.00 pesos for each year). It was a very unexpected gesture but much appreciated as well. The last time I saw him was in 1994 when I asked for his assistance in getting my visa processed on time. I regret that I did not keep in contact and I doubt if he's even aware that my father already passed away. Maybe someday, I'll see him again.

My father and Ducky were close friends when they were in their 20s. When I was born, he was the obvious choice to be my godfather. Over the years, they kept in touch and supported each other on whatever endeavours they needed each other for. When Ducky needed some business assistance, he called on my father. In return, when he became a prominent figure in the political arena, he was able to secure a government position for my father. This job enabled my parents to provide us with quality education and a stable home life.

I seldom saw my godfather. I didn't get to see him on my birthdays and on Christmas holidays. My young mind couldn't help wishing I had more godparents and that I'd see them often. When I did get to see my godfather, I was too painfully shy to establish some kind of connection with him. I was at awe and unsure of what to make of him. All I knew was that he was a rising and promising journalist in the country. That was enough to intimidate me into silence lest I say something embarrassing and nonsensical. I became content in knowing that I did have a godfather albeit a distant one but when I graduated from college and was in Manila for my nursing licensure board review, my mother convinced me to contact him. At that time, he was the Press Undersecretary to President Corazon Aquino.

Daunted by the task, I bit the bullet and called him up. To my surprise, he invited me to come to the Malacanang Palace to meet him. Being older and having more confidence made the meeting less nerve wracking. It was one of the most impressionable moments in my young adult life. After I left the Philippines, I planned on staying connected with him. Instead, stress and a fast paced life made it less of a priority. It wasn't until my father's death that I started feeling the urge to see him again. I feared that I might not ever have the opportunity to thank him. I was still feeling haunted by the feeling of regret that I never really got to spend enough time with my own father. There were still a lot of things unsaid, some deeds not done. I didn't want to make the same mistake again, even with somebody relatively unfamiliar to me as my Maninoy Ducky.

Although my godfather and I never had much of a relationship, he has somewhat influenced me in a strange way. It's like he has bestowed on me a special gift, a piece of who he is, during my baptism. It just might be my naive and wishful thinking but one I truly believed in. It is where I draw confidence and courage from whenever I start pounding the keyboard to express myself in my blogs. Even if I may never achieve any acclaim from my efforts, I'm just gratified to know that I'm adequately capable of sharing my thoughts and feelings to those who are willing to read them. It's also my own way of paying tribute to a brilliant man who, without his knowing, has created an impact in my life. 

To those of you who are still reading this, I am thankful for your time and effort. To those who have complimented me in your comments, I am deeply appreciative and humbled by your generousity.