‘Our Silent Guardian’
When dentist Andres Eduardo passed away recently at the age of 90, his death upended the world of his family.
Even at 90, he was still the sun they orbited.
“My father was our rock,” his eldest daughter Alice Eduardo, known as the Philippines’ “Woman of Steel,” said in her eulogy.
All his children (including Small Laude, Melba Solidum and Joel Eduardo) and grandchildren described him as a silent force in their lives.
“He was the kind of father who showed his love through actions rather than words. He was always there—whether it was to help with chores, offer advice, or simply sit quietly beside us when we needed comfort,” Alice said.
“He was the steady hand that guided our family, the reassuring presence that made everything feel safe and secure. He showed his love not just in words, but in actions — in the way he supported us unconditionally, in the quiet sacrifices he made without complaint,” she added.
“For the most part of our lives, we knew and saw Lolo as our silent guardian,” said Jacqueline Eduardo or Jeline, his “panganay na apo,” and Alice’s firstborn.
“He barely made a sound,” Jeline said in her eulogy for her Lolo, in the chapel filled to the brim with floral arrangements that would have made her Lolo smile.
“He always kept to himself, silently gazing outside the terrace in Malate, and in recent years, on his one favorite seat in the patio overlooking the garden of our home here in Makati, with his radio on hand as he listened to the music of his decades or the AM radio. He would gaze at us, and that was enough. He’d gaze as we walked out the door to school as children, to the office as adults. Now, I realized that there were times when I looked up as a child and caught glimpses of how he would watch the car drive away until we were out of sight,” she recalled, tears glistening in her eyes.
“It is so painful to lose a parent,” said Small Laude, who arrived from the US just in time to embrace her father in the ICU before he breathed his last.
Melba recalled how happy her father was that she followed in his footsteps and took up dentistry. Joel shared the times he would drive his father out of town, and how he regrets that he wasn’t always able to drive him out of town, which he enjoyed, due to other pressing matters.
“If you can, say ‘yes’ to your parents’ requests while they are still with you,” Joel said in his eulogy.
For most of the wake and funeral, Dadeh’s widow Elisa was a picture of dignity in grief. She would weep quietly, her head bowed, a white handkerchief to her eyes. I asked her the secret of her long-lasting marriage to Dadeh Andres, and she told me, “Pag galit ang isa, huwag mong sasabayan.”
Andres and Elisa shared every meal together and Jeline recounted that if her grandmother was not yet by the dining table, her Lolo, whose favorite song was Tennessee Waltz, would ask, “Nasaan si Elisa?”
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Alice, president and CEO of Sta. Elena Construction and Development Corp., said her father was her mentor in more ways than one.
“Dadeh taught me practical life skills, including driving, and the value of developing a system of pattern thinking that had been instrumental in making me more efficient in anything I do,” she said gratefully.
“He was a constant presence, together with my Mom, in all my business ventures, extending a helping hand with whatever needed to be done. He supported me all throughout, often finding him finishing chores I did not get to finish the night before by the time I return in the morning,” she added.
“He was our biggest supporter, our quiet cheerleader, and our safe haven.”
“To me, he was more than a father. He was a role model, a confidant, a teacher. His wisdom was never forced, but gently offered, always at the right time and always with kindness. He taught me the value of hard work, the importance of kindness, and the power of a good heart,” said Alice, a philanthropist who has built hospital wings, schools and homes for the less fortunate.
Alice said she would miss the road trips she would take with her father. She took many of these when she would inspect project sites out of town.
“These were sometimes lengthy road trips, but he made it a point to stay awake the entire time, I felt, to both protect me and keep me company. Something that he continued to do even when we took trips overseas,” she said.
I remember once visiting Alice in her home in Beverly Hills, and whether it was to go shopping or to attend business meetings, Dadeh would be waiting at the foot of the grand spiral staircase. There was no way Alice could leave their house without him seeing her. Joel would take the wheel of their car and Dadeh would sit in the passenger’s seat, always his daughters’ protector. He would wait patiently for Alice to finish her appointments, perhaps whistling Tennessee Waltz to pass the time.
During her eulogy, Jeline, who is “Ate” to her siblings and cousins as her mother Alice is to her siblings, shared something with her family for the first time.
“This will also be the first time my family is hearing about this. Secretly, I wished to have a private moment with Lolo, and I finally did. During his last 45 minutes, I was humming the same song to him, Tennessee Waltz, while rubbing his smooth head. At one point I asked him, ‘Lolo, ano ba gusto mo?’ wondering whether he’s still fighting, or if he wants to rest. Then maybe 15 minutes after that, we watched his blood pressure steadily decline. The doctor came in, gently told us to call the rest of the family, and we all said our final goodbyes together. He must’ve answered my question,” said Jeline.
Till the end Dadeh Andres was the “silent guardian” who expressed himself not with words but with quiet action. It was his time to say goodbye. *
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