How my father made me a billionaire

Sixteen years after his passing, my father remains my anchor, my sail and my guiding light.

He believed in me and made sure I would reach the shore with the little that he had, which he coupled with all the love in the world he could give me. He believed that I would have my perfect time to shine, to take my own spot in the derby of life. He believed in the survivor in me — that my life vest was his own strength of character that he unknowingly passed on to me.

Sixteen years after his passing, he remains my moral compass. I remember my father with pride in my heart as I look back on the lessons I learned from him.

1. He taught me honesty — what is not mine should not be clasped in my hand. “Don’t steal.” That was the cardinal rule in the house when my brothers and I were growing up. He explained that whether one has none or plenty, one should not steal. “Stealing taints the name of the family.” And in our many days of want, he made sure what we ate came from the honest labor of his farmer’s hands.

It was in his palms, coarse and calloused, that I learned the dignity of labor. That honest work is also sustenance for the soul. His were the hands of a farmer, bruised by the harsh elements, burnt from their constant exposure to the sun, lined by their relentless acquaintance with the earth.

Those were the hands that fed me. Those were the same hands that never spared the rod. In fact, when I made the mistake of taking the Cool-Aide of my elder brother Gaddie one summer day without permission, I dealt with the consequences through my father’s bamboo stick that landed several times on my behind. The experience taught me the hard way never to touch someone else’s belongings.

With the punishment came the same hands that gave me the necessary pat. And, on an occasion, they were the same hands that got pricked when he proudly pinned on me my high school graduation medal.

2. He taught me perseverance — what I want to have, I must work hard for. My father’s life was my compass in terms of upholding the values I needed to advance in life. He taught me to aspire for things both navigable and improbable. The distance that separates certainty and uncertainty can only be determined if one first tries to travel it. The only time I throw in the towel is when I have exhausted all my efforts. He taught me that failure is part of life. And it becomes a lesson when I learn from it. Then it becomes not a failure anymore.

In the latter part of his life, when he had retired from tilling the land and just filled his days with meaningful conversations with his family and friends, my father would always ask me about my own happiness. I would always say that prime in my list was making the family happy. Like, modesty aside, buying him a second-hand black van as my Christmas gift to him in 2008 was — and to this — the happiest moment of my life. It was the first car that the family owned. I saved hard enough to afford my father that gift. His tears of joy when I handed him the car keys remain paramount in my memory bank. When I am sad and feeling dejected, I allow my mind to ruminate on that Christmas Eve when my father couldn’t believe that the black van in the garage was his — and my heart feels the warmth of the experience again.  How beautiful was that experience! My father enjoyed his van for just a year before his demise in January 2010. But I always see the handiwork of God in that experience because He allowed me that unforgettable experience. Looking back, that gesture was also my gift to myself because I still enjoy the joy of the memory.

I may not have been able to bring my father abroad when he was alive, the way I did for my mother, because I did not have the extra means then, but I knew in his heart, his black van made his spirit fly.

3. He taught me simplicity — what joy it brings to live a life without pretension.  “It’s so much easier to live a life without pretense. You don’t need to remember your lies,” he would say in the vernacular. When one lives a life of pretense, one is obliged to lie. As posturing takes place, lying to oneself and to others becomes the order of the day. My father always said that there was so much joy in living with the truth. He took the witness stand once to testify in an agrarian case according to the truth he knew. He talked about his experience in court and exposed the truth in his heart and mind. They won the case and my father became all the more resolute in his belief that “the truth will set one free.”

Still on the subject of simplicity, my father had the ability to simplify complicated matters. He would always tell me that if things were not necessary, I shouldn’t venture into them. He illustrated to me the difference between “wants” and “needs” at an early age. He taught me that decisions were not based on whims. To this day, when I go to the mall, market or grocery, I only get what is necessary. And it helps a lot that he taught me to always have a paktura (list of items to buy written on a piece of paper) — to remind me of what is necessary.

4. He taught me fairness — what peace of mind it creates when life is lived without putting one over the other. In the playing field of life, the most reliable, the most trustworthy is the one who exercises fairness. Fairness, according to my father, builds trust and reduces, if not totally eliminates, tension and conflict. Putting one over the other is a form of stealing. Red flag.

“Huwag mamasamain kapag hindi ka napagbigyan sa iyong hiling.” Don’t harbor ill feelings when you don’t get what you want. There’s fairness even in rejection, he said. My father reminded me that when I am in the position to ask for help, all I need to do is to say my intention sincerely. Two things can happen: either the request will be approved or will fall on deaf ears. In both occasions, he told me to be grateful. Indeed, gratitude resides in a heart that is fair.

5. He taught me about legacy — what riches we can harvest with a billion memories shared together. He always said it: “A legacy is not about a billion pesos earned but about a billion beautiful moments shared together.”

I thank God for Cresencio Sr., my father. He made me a billionaire. *