I am like the millions of other parents in the Philippines who have gone into debt just to send their kids through school. It is not an easy task, this going into debt. You hang by the tattered shreds of your dignity each time you try to get the words out that you need help.
When my eldest daughter passed the Nursing board exam, I waited until I was safely alone before I broke down and cried. In her presence, and that of my wife, I did not want to spoil the happy occasion with tears, even if they were for gladness.
My second daughter is also taking up Nursing, and will be entering her senior year when classes open. A third daughter is still eight years old, going on to third grade. She is too far down the chain of relations to be anything else other than the baby of the family.
I was the one who decided on Nursing for my two elder daughters, and my reasons for doing so are as valid now as they were at the time I made the decision for them. And as far as the family is concerned, there has never been any regrets over the choice.
All of us understood that, given their own aspirations in life, and the reality on the ground in the Philippines, there was no way they could attain what they aspire for unless they seek greener pastures abroad.
And again, the reality on the ground is that it was Nursing that provided them the only real chance of getting out. Besides, the fact that it was a noble and honorable profession should at least allow them to hold their heads high with dignity.
But I must admit that it was something far less intellectual that finally ended all discussion and sealed my daughters' fates on my insistence. The decision was made after robbers broke into my home a second time.
I thought then, that if we cannot be safe anymore in our own homes, then maybe it was time to leave. I looked into my daughters' eyes and told them I was the only man in the family, that I was getting on in years and may not be able to protect them all the time.
And so we embarked on the difficult road toward a college degree. And when I say difficult, I know the millions of other parents in the Philippines will need no elaboration. They ought to know perfectly what I mean.
And then suddenly a few days ago, the air was rent with the news that a senior Nursing student, who was to graduate at the end of this month from the very same school that my second daughter goes to, was shot and killed by two street gang members.
I did not know this Ruby Jade Ruba from Eve. But I was devastated by her death just as if she was someone close to me. That is because I can identify with her and her parents. I know her father must have died a million deaths on hearing the tragedy.
And what a senseless tragedy indeed it was. Ruby was a girl who did not have a night life. But that night she had a project to finish and so texted her brother she would not be home. She never did.
As she stood outside a dorm with a female classmate waiting for another classmate to lend them an adaptor for a laptop computer, the two street gang members passed by on a motorbike and, noticing Ruby had a cellphone, stopped and held her up with an unlicensed gun.
Shots rang out and Ruby fell to the ground. The animals sped away laughing into the night on their motorbike, shamelessly made richer with her cellphone. Upon their swift arrest a few days later, the bastards said what they did was just for kicks.
Nothing I have seen or heard in all my years had there been a more compelling statement proving how cheap life has become than that. So if I were the owner of the university Ruby went to, I would allow her to graduate along with her class on March 30.
Allowing her to graduate, by reading her name and letting her parents come up the stage to receive a token certificate, along with her classmates, will at least restore some dignity to her cheap death. And maybe she can find her peace.