I will tell you how he lived...

I have missed my father everyday since he departed this life on June 24, 2009. Antonio Lores Liquete passed away on a Wednesday morning at Guam Memorial Hospital after two months of battling an infection that started with a cut on his left arm. Ever the stubborn man who endured his pain silently, he did not tell anyone of the wound until the infection became virulent enough to land him in the hospital for over two months. Towards the end, the infection did go away and he was on his way to a long recovery. We all thought he was getting better; my sisters and I made plans to go back and see him once he made it back home. But it was not so...his very last battle was with aspiration pneumonia - and it was a battle he did not win.

It was a shock to all of us. When I received the news he was still there somehow, coding on the hospital bed. Over the phone, the nurse said "we're in the second round of code blue."

I just stared at my cell phone, not understanding. Of course I knew what a code blue was - but I couldn't understand - why was it happening - there must be a mistake. "What do you mean?" I asked, "He's supposed to be getting better...what are you talking about!"

Again the nurse spoke. "You need to tell your mom to make him DNR."

In my state of disbelief, I just kept repeating "what do you mean? what do you mean?"

Finally the doctor came on the phone and he said "I'm sorry to say your father has passed away."

Still in disbelief, I said "what? how could this happen?"

"He lived a very long life," he said, sounding sincere in his sympathy. After a few more words, the doctor handed the phone to my mom, who did not know what was going on.

"Daddy is gone" I told my mom, and her sobs were the last I heard before my brother spoke to me. I told my brother to take care of mom and promised we will on the very first flight out to Guam.

At my father's funeral service, Father Dan quoted a line from "The Last Samurai," in which the character says: I will not tell you how he died, I will tell you how he lived. In doing so, I have briefly described how my father died. Now, the bigger picture is how my father lived.

His life story is 83 years long. That life began in San Esteban Ilocos Sur, Philippines on December 15, 1925 and spanned a spectrum of changes and constants. I am sure he had a colorful life long before he became a husband, father, and grandfather. Sadly those stories are locked in the memories of his cousins, old neighbors, and his lone living sister - my Aunt Josefa. On his last visit here to the states, at the San Francisco Airport just moments before he departed for home, I asked my father how he met my mother. The story he told was one I never heard before, and I craved for more - but time was short and he had to board the plane. Truly, time was too short and I now realize how precious my father's memories are now that they are lost forever. But... all is not lost. My memories of him are abundant; stories of him from my sisters and brothers, my many aunts and uncles, his cousins, his neighbors-they are still within my grasp. And as I get them, I would like to share with you stories of how my father lived.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Memories from Marilou


The last 48 years is filled of many memorable, very special moments spent with my dad, and now that he is no longer here to help me make more memories with him, i find myself reminiscing and reliving the many special moments he had created with me. Each moment spent with my dad was in itself special and unique...each one of course, carefully and wonderfully etched in my memory. Be it something others consider unfavorable or one of my fondest moments with him, each moment, truly in every sense, defined my dad and only fitting what in my mind is the description of the distinguished man who i have always looked up to, admired and loved - the man who is my dad.

As a young child growing up, i remember watching my dad in awe and thinking to myself that he must be the most intelligent person in the whole world. I remember finding out in total wonderment that my dad had subscriptions to Time magazine and Reader's Digest and had a collection of books of many different topics: from auto mechanics to carpentry, beer-brewing to gardeningand the like, which as a child, somehow made me wonder how my dad could read such a wide array of books and from one extreme to the other. My dad was a mere high-school graduate but I grew up knowing that there is not anything he could not do or fix or build. To this day, when i think about those good ol' days, i still find myself in awe, pride and have such great respect for a truly self-taught genius. Through the years, i've heard from relatives, neighbors, friends and from my dad's very best friend who was a college-graduate doctor of medicine...how my dad was the most intelligent person they've ever known. That knowledge i have of my dad as being respected and looked up to by his peers always made me feel very proud inside that such an admired person is MY dad and that i belonged to him. I remember looking forward to the times when his monthly magazines arrived, as did my father, for as he was as voracious a reader, my dad had also instilled in me a love of reading and learning about the world and its politics and cultures. I believe that my dad, in his own humble way, knew and believed that he is a very smart person, though he didn't brag about it to other people, but to his family, he was never one to hide his pride when one of his children or grandchildren received an award of excellence or such in school. My dad believed even to his last breath that his children and grandchildren had inherited the Liquete intelligence and he always carried a certain pride and contentment about it within him.

One of the fondest memories i have of my dad, is that he always spent spare time with us his young children when there was not anybody to play with in the neighborhood and these particularly special times he spent with us then were some of the times i always looked forward to and enjoyed as a young child. Even when reminiscing about these times to this day and tell my own child about them when i talk about her grandfather, these times by far are most memorable to me. My three siblings and I were probably still all in grade school (Cely and Emilio were not born yet). I remember my brother Edwin, sister Nancy and i think my sister Linda was probably too young then, but she may have joined us anyway, always played educational stuff with our dad. He would give us pads of paper and pencils, give us what i thought then as a child must have been the longest most difficult words in the dictionary and that my dad would probably the only person in the world who knew these words. What he always wanted us to do was to come up with as many different words derived from the one word he gave us and whoever wrote the most correct number of words is the winner. Other times he would ask us to come up with as many words we can think of ending in such and such (tion or ent for example). Many times, he showed us a picture of some sort which we would study carefully because he would take the picture away after a certain time and we were to answer questions regarding the picture. I always looked forward to those times when my dad spent such educational moments with us. I guess because, deep inside, i was really like my dad, always had an appetite for learning. There were times through the years later when i see the pride in my dad's eyes when during family get-togethers, we all play scrabble and games of the like and he ends up not winning. I always felt some sense of pride within him that he did not mind losing to one of his children. He was proud of such moments and i felt that he was content.

One other fond memory i have of my dad when i was a young child was when he taught me how to play the game of chess and how i have really enjoyed learning the game. He told me then that chess was the game of champions and it is good for the mind. My dad loved to challenge me and my siblings mentally and i guess that being his child, i could only love having my mind challenged and honed. I believe to this day that i am what i am today because my dad had taught me how to have the hunger to learn and to enjoy the satisfaction of having learned something new everyday.

Looking at my dad, it can bee a bit difficult to see past the often present stern and at times angry look on his face that he possessed a very compassionate and kind akin to animals. Two instances during my younger years proved to me how much my dad loved them and he would try to do anything to protect that love from whatever threatens it. We had a dog "Salikbay" which one day came home with a big cut on his neck. It did not take a moment longer for my dad to become very angry, grab his BBgun and started to walk down the streets. Neighbors would know when my dad becomes very angry and would automatically stir clear the streets and stay indoors. It's just one of my dad's way of letting everybody know that no one messes with him and with anything that belonged to him. My dad took it upon himself to nurse Salikbay back to health, taking care of the big gush on his neck and giving him milk everyday to drink when the dog could not take in anything else. Another time, my dad firmly believed that a dolphin was unjustly caught and killed by the fishermen from the ocean right in front of the town. He researched and gathered every information he could get about dolphins and the kind intelligence these mammals possessed, recorded the information on tape and patiently went around the neighborhood making sure that each neighbor willing to listen will hear and learn all the facts about dolphins. My dad believed that doing this would prevent future instances of dolphins being mistakenly captured and killed. There were many other instances later I observed myself or heard from my siblings and neighbors about how concerned and worried my dad would be about a certain dog or cat or any other living thing for that matter.

Yes, each one of dad's six children would agree on a couple of things about him: that he was probably the most strict father any child could ever have. It is true that my dad believed in punishment for any misbehavior, misdeed and mistakes from any one of us six siblings, and as painful as i thought those many times from long time ago have been, i have along the way realized how my dad had really been just being a protective and nurturing father in his own unique, loving way even if to us, his young children, we viewed his disciplinary tactics as mean and unfavorable. I have come to realize the truth of how much my dad really loved us and only meant well for us with each punishment we were subjected to, when one day while i was away to college in Manila, i received an unexpected, very emotional handwritten letter from him. i could sense that it must have taken a lot for my dad to compose such a letter as he has never been one to really show his feelings and emotions. The letter started very emotional that from the very first sentence, (it went like this... "they say, that real men don't cry, but believe me my dear child that men who don't cry could not have possibly experienced the joy of being a father, for as i write this letter, tears are running down my face...") - i was not able to keep myself from crying and could only continue reading the rest of the letter through tear-soaked eyes. When i came to the very last sentence where my dad had written down on paper how much he loved me and my siblings, i had no doubt in my mind.

The one other thing that i know my siblings and i would agree on about my father is his stubbornness. But i would say that all six of us have inherited this streak of characteristics as well. I consider myself a very stubborn person and i see the same trait in my siblings, but i have not met anybody more stubborn than my dad. There may have been some times that i would have preferred his stubborn streak to have been toned down a bit, but i have come to accept it and i truly and completely would not have had it any other way....otherwise, it would not have fit the basic characteristics of my father. Yes, to me, my dad was a self-taught genius, a very angry, mean, strict, protective, and a very stubborn man but he was also compassionate, nurturing, loving and a great teacher and those descriptions and many more are the very traits that so define the person i admire, respect and love. They DEFINE a very DISTINGUISHED MAN who is MY DAD!

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