I Love You, Daddy

April 4th, 2007 § 55

It was a Monday, and as always, Mom and Dad drove my brother and I to ABS-CBN where he work, and to the apartment (in Ortigas) where I stay on weekdays, respectively.

I had my laptop on in the car that time, and was excitedly explaining to Dad how I can now access the net anywhere through Globe Visibility. I’m sure Dad didn’t understand a bit of what I was saying but he nodded as if he did, and teased me about how her little girl has turned into an “anti-social geek.” At some point he even joked, “Nak bili mo rin ako ng laptop,” and in my head I was already considering the possibility.

We passed by Podium on the way, but since they were trying to catch an appointment with Daddy’s cardiologist later that afternoon, they had to drop me off earlier than usual. Mom and Dad helped me with my luggage, and the hamsters, and the laptop. Lately I’ve been thinking about how much I miss spending time with my parents and our home in Caloocan, making it a bit difficult to say goodbye to them that particular afternoon. Just before they left, my dad gave me a long hug (whenever I think about it now, I wish I held on to him much longer), and whispered, “Pakabait ka lagi ha?“, to which I automatically joked, “Of course, Dad, ako pa!“.

I went up to the apartment and watched the car leave from the veranda. For some reason, Dad rolled down the car window pa to glance up at me and shouted “Thank you!“–because earlier that day, I did him a favor by buying his cardiologist a birthday gift. Those were his last words to me. I waved goodbye and watched as the car disappeared from my view, thankful that I was blessed with such wonderful parents. Little did I know that it was going to be the last. Last time I’d ever hear my Daddy laugh. Last time I’d ever hug him. Last time I’d ever see him and my mom happy together. Last time I’d ever be with him, joke with him, laugh with him. Last time I’d ever see his smile.

That same night, while I was out with a friend at Greenhills, I had an emergency call from my brother telling me to go straight home because Daddy was rushed to the hospital. Heaviness came onto me. The taxi ride was torturous–I knew there was something seriously wrong, but I was pushing the worst scenario at the back of my mind at the same time.

When I reached the hospital, my mom and two brothers were already there, eyes swollen red, and my dad.. he was already gone.

Why? When? How? I had a lot of questions in my mind but I could only (hysterically) cry and utter the word “Daddy” over and over, as I hugged his lifeless body. He never showed signs of pain the whole day, heck, his cardiologist even released him after his check-up that afternoon, declaring that his heart was healthy, and was functioning just as it should. How could he have gone so soon? He’s just 57.

He’s my Daddy. He carried me when I was little. He taught me my first guitar chords. He prayed for me, sang with me in church, taught me a lot of things. He was there on stage with me when I received my college diploma. He texted me everyday. He gave me advices and hugs when I needed them. He was there comforting me when I had my first heartbreak, telling me to just let it out.. I remember how much easier it was for me to deal with the situation knowing that he (and mom)’s just in the next room and I could cry on his shoulder at any given time.

I’m still too young to lose a father, I’d always think. I’m just 23. I have a lifetime ahead of me, and I couldn’t imagine how it’s gona be like without my Daddy. I’ve always pictured my parents growing old together, grey-haired and all, taking care of their grand children. Dad was gona officiate my wedding (and my brothers’ too). We were going to dance to this song we both loved, Butterfly Kisses, on my wedding night. Up to now I still can’t imagine how life is going back to normal without him.

I wish I texted him more, told him I love you as much as I could, spent more time with him. I wish I paid more time and attention to the church’s website, something he’s always believed that I can do. I wish I hugged him more. There are a lot of things I wish I was able to do. I just miss my daddy so much.

But I’m not about to question God’s sovereignty above all these. Never did, never will. Our family has found peace in the simple truth that God is in control, and He allowed this to happen. Surviving a series of heart attacks within the span of two years is already a miracle, God could have taken him right there and then, two years ago, on his first attack. But He granted us a second chance to be with him longer, according to His plan.

Up to the last minute of his life, God answered my Daddy’s prayers. He always wanted to spend his last day on earth as normal as possible, without tubes and medical gadgets monitoring his heart. He didn’t want to die in a hospital room. He passed away without pain, in my Mommy’s arms.

My Dad’s in a better place now–no more pain, no more heart failures, no more disappointments. I’ll always miss my Dad, but I know, in my heart, he will always be. Once in a while I would still cry, and it’s as if everyone around me has given me the freedom to do so, no questions asked. Sometimes it’s easier to just lock myself up and forget that the world moves on regardless if I move on with it or not. I know eventually I will be okay, just give me more time.

Of course there are those people who are there for our family althroughout this ordeal. Thank you to all of you who have sent their prayers and condolences, to those who sent flowers, texts, emails, and to those who took time to be at my Daddy’s wake. You are all God-sent. A heart-felt thanks goes to all of you.


I love you, Daddy. Thanks for being the best Dad in the whole world.
I’ll always miss you.. But
I know you’re happy where you are now.
You’ll always be in my thoughts, and in my heart..
I’m not afraid anymore.

Roberto V. Sanchez Jr.
November 9, 1949 – March 26, 2007

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