I flew to Manila last week for my father's funeral. Although I knew it was only a matter of time before my dad succumbed to his illness, I just wasn't ready to say goodbye for the last time. I thought I held up pretty well up until the moment the pall bearers closed the lid to his casket. I knew right then it was going to be my last time to see him.

I have said many times to family and friends that my father and I had a rocky father-son relationship. In the end of the day, however, I could never deny the fact that my dad was, despite his faults and weaknesses, a loving, supportive, thoughtful, and caring individual. I suddenly remembered memories from the past when my father exemplified these traits and I just couldn't help thinking how lucky I was to have had a wonderful man, just the same, for a father.

During my visit to Manila last December 2012, I gifted him with a brand new watch for Christmas. I saw that the watch he wore around his wrist, one that I had also bought him years earlier, had gotten old and needed replacement. The caregivers told me that for months, he refused to part with the new one nor even take it off when he was being given a bath. I don't think he was worried that it was going to be stolen from him. He didn't want to part with it because it meant more than just a watch to tell time. It was my gift to him. It was special to him because it came from me, his son. To him, it represented my affection for him. During the last months when he became weak, the care givers who had become very much like members of our family decided to place the watch close to my dad's bed where he could always see it.

Last April, I knew he was getting weaker by the day and on one visit, I laid in bed next to him. No longer able to speak, he looked at me and I held his hand. I knew he recognized me because he squeezed my hand a couple of times and would not let it go. I caressed his face and told him how much I loved him. "I love you Daddy," I said in a soft voice. I went on to thank him for the absolutely wonderful life he gave me. Tears fell from both his eyes and mine.

I have always seen my life in the US as a blessing. The down part to living abroad and far from the Philippines is that it has kept me from spending time with my father. Friends and relatives who I saw last week asked me one question over and over. "Will you still come and visit even when your dad is now gone?" I don't think I will stop going back. It's just hard to believe that my biggest link to Manila is no longer there.

I miss my father so, so much. I do know that he is in a better place, a place where he is finally free from any pain, at peace, and with loved ones who had preceded him. I can only pray that we will all one day be together again living a much better and happier life as a family.