Bong

On his deathbed, Papa told him, 'You marry my daughter, your marry all of us.' It was a 'heads-up' by Papa, to the only man whom at that time mustered the courage to woo me. Papa died a few days after he said that. So he went on to keep his word he gave Papa. We got married not long after his death, but in so stressful circumstances. 

I met him at a time when things were really rough for me, and was carrying all the weight of the world on my shoulders. A colleague introduced us, Jenny, and until now I have not really asked her how she got to know him. He pursued me, telling me at one point when we were already married, that he was impressed not only by the way I spoke English, but because I carefully wrapped a piece of siopao he gifted me with, and told him I would bring it home for Papa instead. Of course, the person that he is, he was joking his way through telling me. He is a a self-made man, after all, and pride overtook his emotions most often. Only a  few people and certain stuff can melt his heart and prompt him to show his soft side: like grandchildren and sad movies. He was schooled at La Salle and UP, and one can only imagine how formidable that combination is. 

Our life together started so difficult, that at one point, I thought of giving up. We still did not have Ana then, and  my heart broke into pieces each day he would come home with one bottle of beer too many. We eloped, not many know that, because Mama, who thought perhaps I was the beauty-titlist type that I deserved only a prince for a husband, made me choose one night, between him and them. I would like to think that Mama asked me to choose only to drive home a point. But I chose him, to the devastation of my family. Even when we got married properly, many prayed that we would fail at trying. Perhaps I wanted to prove them wrong. Or maybe in my heart, I knew that he deserved my love and respect more than how others feel. He stood his ground for me, even in his pain of being slapped in the face about his inadequacies, real or imagined. And so I did, too. 

Yet when things fall apart, with God's grace, the pieces fall into place in His time. We had Ana after two years, then Aidan seven years after. Many among my friends know the story of my life and twenty-five years of my marriage: of the struggles in starting a life which no one wanted to succeed; of conflicts which threatened our bond stemming from my family or his; of our vulnerabilities and the turmoil these brought; of the rebuilding; of reaching a plateau at last; of quietly living under the radar, to keep our family together. 

Despite of all these, when we have the rare moments of talking serious stuff about our life, our conversations with so many words from our mouths, throwing in morsels of wisdom between us, we both know that our life together has only two truths: Ana and Aidan. We built this life together, only the two of us, no matter how others perceive it to be, he told me once. He is right. We both have done so many wrongs in this life, really. But in the end, we hold on to the thought that we did right and good, when we see Ana and Aidan, and the kind of people they have grown to be. 

Happy Birthday, Bong. 

Ana Isaiah Castillejos Suguitan, Aidan Suguitan