Godspeed, Papa

Eulogy delivered for Florefino Lapinid

December 28, 2009, Arnold Janssen Church, Mambaling, Cebu City

I grew up not really knowing my father. He left our family when I was 3 years old. Over the years, I would see him a few number of times, usually on birthdays, funerals or every end of the school year when he'd put on me the medals I earned in grade school. What I know of my father, I usually learned from other people.

I know his name was Florefino Lapinid, and that he is fondly called by family and friends as Pleny, I know he is tall, dark and handsome and that he loved to sing and play basketball.

I know that he was a dedicated policeman, having spent 37 years in the service. Even in the last hours of his life, his commitment to being a retired police officer was evident as he attended the retirees' Christmas party, where he met his untimely death.

I know that he belonged to a great family. If you are ever lucky enough to attend one of the clan's parties and get-together in Alumnos or Minglanilla, you will see a very close-knit group of people very attached and ready to help each other, something I missed growing up. My father loved to have fun. He had the happiest time when he was drinking with his brothers and I remember fondly the Bee Gees trio medley he did with Uncles Lorenzo and Billy.

I know that he had a hard life, because he would sometimes come to me unannounced, asking for whatever money I could spare. I know that he was very hardworking. At age 65, he still worked the tiny streets of Talisay, earning P150 a day as a sikad-sikad driver.

From that, I figured he must be a very good father. To still be working very hard at such old age so he can provide a good future for his other children suggests a deep love for his kids. I may not have experienced that love as often as I would have liked, but that he gave it so generously to others is good enough for me.

I have always wanted to get to know my father more. I admit that deep resentments have kept me from doing so in the past, because it hurts not to have had him all those years. At one point, I decided there was no sense in holding grudges and vowed to come see him one day. And then he died and I will never ever have my chance. So I will remember him as one would remember a good father.

Last night, the priest during the wake spoke about forgiveness. I believe that our greatest gift to him as he makes his journey to heaven would be just that: forgiveness. Papa, I forgive you. And I hope you can forgive me, for not reaching out, for being so arrogant in thinking you owe me a lot of things. You don't owe me anything. In fact, I am forever indebted to you for merely giving me the chance to be alive. I am sorry that I did not have the courage to tell you to your face that I love you.

Seeing the great number of people-- family, friends, colleagues, who came to pay their last respects told me that my father was a very good man. And that's how we, the ones he left behind, will always remember him.

Godspeed, Papa. We will all see you again in God's perfect time.