Upon reading all the contents of the 2005 planner that my father gave me about two years ago - I, again, remember those happy moments when he was still with us...though it continue to cease ever since this year started.
This happened one day, about May, 2008. I forgot the exact date. But that was the time that I was so much engrossed in my preparation for my mission so that I would be able to pass my mission papers as soon as possible.
I asked my father about his conversion story. He asked me "Why?". I told him I just wanted to know all about it.
We didn't know then that he would die the month after.
Upon hearing my reply...he smiled. Then he started to tell his story.
It was a usual cloudy day down the bagasbas beach of January 1974. He visited his friend, who lives in a store just in front of the beach. My father used to love alcohol so his visits to his friends means another drinking session.
During that drinking session, this friend of his told him about the good news he had.
He said, "Alam mo ba na may buhay pala tayong propeta ngayon?" (Do you know that we have a living prophet today?)
My father was furious and asked his friend how he found out all about that. Just then, his friend started to tell him about the missionaries that had been visiting him. He told him about the Book of Mormon and told him how really nice the missionaries were and their teachings as well.
My father let out his word that brought a huge step to change his life forever. He told his friend to bring those missionaries to him so that he would prove them wrong!
So these missionaries did came to his house one day. But my father have lots of excuses.
He would usually set a date for these missionaries so that they would start their discussions. But my father was never home on those dates.
When they found him again and begin the discussions they asked him about his actual time of availability. He told them that he would only be really available at night when he would come home from the town.
But then my father always came home around 11pm or 12 midnight...when the missionaries are already gone.
One night he saw those missionaries walking down the road from Bagasbas to their apartment, which is in the town proper of Daet. He saw them walking really late at night. He later found out that those missionaries had always been keeping that appointment with him. Even wait for him until late at night to come home hoping he would make it home earlier so that they would be able to teach him again. And they always lose the jeepneys that would go back to the town so they are obliged to walk. I forgot how many kilometers it is from Bagasbas to the town...but I assure you that is very very far! And add to that is another fact that the lighting down the road back then is really poor. So they would walk there...late at night...pitch black...week after week after week...just for my father!
What really amazes my father is that, even though these missionaries walk for home because of those late appointments with him that he always forgot to attend to, they always return. My father felt pity for these young men. And because of their enthusiasm and good example, my father decided to set another appointment with them. And he promised them that this time - this time - he will be there.
After a couple of months of seriously listening to these missionaries, he was very willing to be baptized. That decision made the missionaries really happy.
But then before his baptismal day one of his friends came to his place. He asked him how he's been and asked him out down town to have a drink. He told him he no longer drink. This statement surprised his friend. But he persisted. He told my father that he doesn't have to drink, his company would be enough.
So he did accompanied his friend and went to a famous beer house downtown. The girls in that beer house even thought my father is gay because he doesn't drink. But he just remained quiet.
When his friend is done and they started to leave...they met two strangers down the stairs. One of them confronted my father. My father can tell that these two strangers are drunk.
When one of them is about to attack them my father told his friend, "Pare uunahan ata tayo pare!" then he hit him right on the face that made him roll down the stairs. My father's friend hit the other man who threatened them then they ran off.
They then disguised themselves so that those guys wouldn't recognize them.
When my father came home. The missionaries came to ask about his preparation for baptism. He told him about what happened earlier. This saddened the missionaries and told him that they must then re-schedule his baptism.
It was okay for my father.
He was eventually baptized and confirmed on that given re-scheduled date. That was 6 months after his first meeting with the missionaries...June 1, 1974.
My mother, upon seeing the change in my father, had also been taught by the missionaries and was then baptized that same year...just 6 months after my father's baptism.
They were one of the pioneers here in Daet. My father even became the first branch president of Daet branch.
34 years and 15 days after his baptism and confirmation in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, my father died...he was 63 years old.
This happened one day, about May, 2008. I forgot the exact date. But that was the time that I was so much engrossed in my preparation for my mission so that I would be able to pass my mission papers as soon as possible.
I asked my father about his conversion story. He asked me "Why?". I told him I just wanted to know all about it.
We didn't know then that he would die the month after.
Upon hearing my reply...he smiled. Then he started to tell his story.
It was a usual cloudy day down the bagasbas beach of January 1974. He visited his friend, who lives in a store just in front of the beach. My father used to love alcohol so his visits to his friends means another drinking session.
During that drinking session, this friend of his told him about the good news he had.
He said, "Alam mo ba na may buhay pala tayong propeta ngayon?" (Do you know that we have a living prophet today?)
My father was furious and asked his friend how he found out all about that. Just then, his friend started to tell him about the missionaries that had been visiting him. He told him about the Book of Mormon and told him how really nice the missionaries were and their teachings as well.
My father let out his word that brought a huge step to change his life forever. He told his friend to bring those missionaries to him so that he would prove them wrong!
So these missionaries did came to his house one day. But my father have lots of excuses.
He would usually set a date for these missionaries so that they would start their discussions. But my father was never home on those dates.
When they found him again and begin the discussions they asked him about his actual time of availability. He told them that he would only be really available at night when he would come home from the town.
But then my father always came home around 11pm or 12 midnight...when the missionaries are already gone.
One night he saw those missionaries walking down the road from Bagasbas to their apartment, which is in the town proper of Daet. He saw them walking really late at night. He later found out that those missionaries had always been keeping that appointment with him. Even wait for him until late at night to come home hoping he would make it home earlier so that they would be able to teach him again. And they always lose the jeepneys that would go back to the town so they are obliged to walk. I forgot how many kilometers it is from Bagasbas to the town...but I assure you that is very very far! And add to that is another fact that the lighting down the road back then is really poor. So they would walk there...late at night...pitch black...week after week after week...just for my father!
What really amazes my father is that, even though these missionaries walk for home because of those late appointments with him that he always forgot to attend to, they always return. My father felt pity for these young men. And because of their enthusiasm and good example, my father decided to set another appointment with them. And he promised them that this time - this time - he will be there.
After a couple of months of seriously listening to these missionaries, he was very willing to be baptized. That decision made the missionaries really happy.
But then before his baptismal day one of his friends came to his place. He asked him how he's been and asked him out down town to have a drink. He told him he no longer drink. This statement surprised his friend. But he persisted. He told my father that he doesn't have to drink, his company would be enough.
So he did accompanied his friend and went to a famous beer house downtown. The girls in that beer house even thought my father is gay because he doesn't drink. But he just remained quiet.
When his friend is done and they started to leave...they met two strangers down the stairs. One of them confronted my father. My father can tell that these two strangers are drunk.
When one of them is about to attack them my father told his friend, "Pare uunahan ata tayo pare!" then he hit him right on the face that made him roll down the stairs. My father's friend hit the other man who threatened them then they ran off.
They then disguised themselves so that those guys wouldn't recognize them.
When my father came home. The missionaries came to ask about his preparation for baptism. He told him about what happened earlier. This saddened the missionaries and told him that they must then re-schedule his baptism.
It was okay for my father.
He was eventually baptized and confirmed on that given re-scheduled date. That was 6 months after his first meeting with the missionaries...June 1, 1974.
My mother, upon seeing the change in my father, had also been taught by the missionaries and was then baptized that same year...just 6 months after my father's baptism.
They were one of the pioneers here in Daet. My father even became the first branch president of Daet branch.
34 years and 15 days after his baptism and confirmation in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, my father died...he was 63 years old.
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