Life is too short for our mistakes

Sometimes we often take things for granted. We've been warned about this every time by so many people around us, by friends, neighbors or even strangers we just meet on the road but we never listen. Or, if we ever do, we think that we already have everything covered: We take care of our loved ones and we're not in anyway aware that we've been taking for granted anything or anybody at all.

When Pa was alive, I practically had all my focus on my boys, who were of course, very photographable and I often ended up editing, even deleting Pa's pictures. Don't blame me for this, I'm not alone. Check Lualhati Bautista's later novel that had an ageing woman as a narrator and that narrator also did this to her Pa.  

So, right now that he's gone, I've been looking for photos of Pa and feel so happy when I see even a parcel of him or his clothes in past family events. I hold on to these photographs, which make me remember clearly what happened to us on the day they were taken. 

This set of photographs I culled from my old file was taken on November 29, 2013, when I was so agitated and restless, prompting Pa to bring me to the boundary areas of his farm. [Actually, it was I who insisted because I did not know anything about the farm, where it began and where it ended]. But even after that and until now, I still don't know.  That was precisely the reason I was very agitated on that day.

2013 was a difficult year for me as a journalist. I could hardly make ends meet. I was doing odd jobs to compensate for my very low income but still those were not enough. 

These were taken with a Nikon point-and-shoot Coolpix S-3100 that I often carried in my pocket at that time. 

Less than two years after these photos were taken, on April 2, 2015, he would be taken to the hospital, groaning in pain.  
Pa would have turned 89 on January 15. He died on June 1, 2017, at age 82.  This post is dedicated to him.