Living with honor

My mother was the youngest child and she was orphaned at an early age. Her older sister raised her. She was a widow herself with young children of her own. Despite the absence of hands-on parents, my mother flourished in a warm and caring environment. Her ate and her cousins nurtured her inner beauty and strength. She was very proud of her relatives. She had reasons to be.

Mother also had a sister-in-law who suffered the loss of a loved one – her husband – at a crucial time, when she was heavy with her fourth child, a daughter. Her three other sons were too young to understand the depth of with grief and her pain.

Years later, when we were old enough to understand, my mother said, "My sister-in-law was a remarkable woman. She raised her four children through sheer guts and with unrelenting faith in God."

Recently, I attended the memorial service for one of these orphaned sons, my first cousin. Because he was much older than me, I was used to calling him "Tito Ito." His daughter, Heidi O. Sison, stood in front of family and friends and said, "I am here by virtue of being the eldest in a brood of seven. I had no choice!"

She continued, "Did you know that my grandmother was illiterate? She could not read or write. She was a young widow who struggled and fought her way out of a harsh life to give her three sons (my father included) and the rest of her children the best education that there was. She taught them well.

She told them to keep their name untarnished and to keep their integrity intact, never to be sold nor compromised.

As a result, I had an uncle who was a prominent engineer; another brilliant uncle who excelled in the field of ophthalmology (He was in fact the first eye specialist who performed the first corneal/retinal transplant in the Philippines), an aunt who was the pillar of strength to her children and my own dear father who was a successful corporate lawyer for one of the oldest and established group of companies in the country. Not bad, isn’t it from a grandmother who could not read or write?"

She went on to share little anecdotes in her father’s life that endeared him greatly to family, associates and friends and I believe the reason why everybody in that room felt a little sadder and a lot emptier.

Do you have relations like these? They are men and women who carved an honorable, decent life regardless of the hard knocks along the way. They were a symbol of strength, the source of light and inspiration to many generations down the line. To him or to her, the measure of success is not the number of houses, jewelry, cars and material wealth one has but the solace and peace that comes from owing no one and envying none.

In a family like this, money or wealth is never considered the highest end but a gift to use wisely and humbly for the greater good of a greater majority including those outside the family nucleus.

This noble goal could be awesome especially when the wrong things seem so easy making it very tempting to sweep one’s principles under the rug. But if one has been brought up to respect the core of one’s being, it becomes easy, almost second nature.

It does not, however, isolate decent families from trials and pain. On the contrary, this inner sense of propriety seems to glisten and shine brighter through every turmoil, every baptism of fire.

To such men, good deeds are unheralded and kept secret – a story untold and known only to three persons: the one who sought help, the one who gave help and God who saw it all.

In a small family gathering, the talk centered on a nephew who kept a sterling record as the deputy commissioner in one of the most corrupt-ridden public departments of the government. He was often told by colleagues and people in higher offices that in order for him to be appointed to the top position, he had to turn a blind eye and learn to dance to the music.

He refused. Not only once but all the time. As a result, he was consistently bypassed, ignored in fact. Officers who were more junior and inexperienced became his superiors and this left him depressed and despondent. His daughter, full of concern, asked, "Father, why don’t you fight back? You know very well you deserve to be promoted?" His reply was full of honesty, the stuff that made a legend. "If the promotion would require me to compromise my principles, I will not. I could never be different from my inner self."

To my nephew, there is no power or wealth on earth that is worth losing one’s being over.

He believed that one must listen to that voice from within that pushes you to remain true lest one turns into a person that one would not or could not recognize. He told his daughter, "Did you want me to live with a stranger?"

My nephew continued to hold his chin up while he carried on with his duty unmindful of all the intrigues and elbowing to turn him into a greedy and corrupt official.

He never lived to reach the peak of his career but to those who knew him, it was not that what mattered in the end. He kept his integrity and was, in hindsight, far more "superior" than his superiors! When he faced his Maker, he had every reason to be proud. He kept his heart unblemished and his conscience pure. He died with honor and in peace. He had value. His weight truly worth in gold.

Josie Lichauco once wrote about it in her column when she pointed out the need to maintain one’s value system. Unless that inner self is kept pure and unblemished, you will never, truly, ever be a success.

We all fall into dark moods. We have doubts. Sometimes in our desperate attempt to earn a decent living, we get enraged, our patience is tested and we are easily upset by the curves the day throws at us. It should not, however, discourage us from remembering who and what we are.

In the past months, I have attended more wakes and funerals than I could count.

If it is not a parent, it’s a friend or immediate relations that have passed on. Those who stood up to honor the departed or spoke kind words never failed to view death as easier to accept if one has left a legacy that would serve as a beacon of hope to those left behind.

A priest in fact told us a rather unconventional way of viewing death. He said that we should not be willing to let go. We must keep memories of our dearly departed with us because it is only by keeping them "involved" in our world that we honor them. Whenever temptation comes along, when the heart is grappling with fear, we can say, "I am doing this to honor you." That way, they remain alive, a living inspiration for us.

Let us accustom ourselves to be gentle. Above all, never be angry with people because of circumstances. At the end of the day, when we take stock of what we have done (or failed to do), it is very comforting to know that we tried to fill our day with kindness, like a continuation of the inner goodness flowing through our veins.

It is our bloodline.