By Atty. Egay Uy
I was looking for a good subject to write about when my first ever grandson and his baby sister, along with their parents, came over. I was in my bedroom at that time when I heard them enter our family home.
Upon hearing the voice of my more than a year old apo, I had to drop what I was doing. And to my delight, he was uttering new words and syllables that sounded like music to my ears. It’s sad my late wife Juliet is no longer around to see our apo, two of them now, a handsome grandson and a beautiful granddaughter, grow into kulit, lingas, and tabi-an little kids.
At my age, holding and sitting my grandson on my lap, and even looking at my son take care of his own, brings out memories of my being a father for the first time. That was more than three decades ago.
I was never a perfect father just like all others. No matter how we tried we would never have been. And as we sit back and recall the happy and sad times of our parenthood, we get to have a clearer view of what went on years back.
We could not turn back time, nobody could. We could no longer fill gaps that we created, wittingly or unwittingly, and we could only reminisce those good old days. I could only wish.
When I bought my grandson his first electric car, a remote-controlled one-seater replica of an Audi (at least that’s what the imitation insignia depicts), he would never get tired of riding it until the battery is fully discharged. My son quipped, “Wala mi ingon ani kaniadto.”
The apo is a bundle of joy. I can say that without fear of contradiction. At least before we leave this life we would have experienced again the joys and excitement of yesteryears while raising kids.
And the life cycle goes on.
