Remembering my Dad, Robert 'Bravo' Bacayan Capuyan: A Father's Day Special

I thought of you with love today but that is nothing new

Living up there in Heaven a handsome angel are you

Oh, Daddy if I only knew

Verily I would have told you that I’ll miss you too

Every hour every minute every moment every day

You are the perfect dad, the best in any way

Oh Daddy if I only knew the day you passed away

Unshed tears, untold words I should have fired away

Daddy, I love you, I know that much is true

And now in His keeping, God has embraced you

Daddy, I miss you, the days are so blue

Daddy, all I have is memories of you and your picture in a frame

You may be gone from this world but I love you all the same.

Robert ‘Bravo’ B. Capuyan – a name that stridently screams ‘DAD’. I was a wee bit of a bundle of diapers and I knew Dad had always been there for me. I’ve glanced at pictures of me evidently cuddled in his arms, of him blatantly rocking me to sleep, of him palpably feeding me. Dad had been to me a mother and father rolled into one just as Mom is these days. Stories I heard from my mother made alligator tears inch down my cheeks as I imagine how Dad had single-handedly taken care of us every single day as Ma was teaching in school, also painstakingly working hard for our future – the now. It is impossible to speak of my father without also speaking of my mother, because they were one. Together, they showed me what true love was like, taught me what a marriage should be. And Dad loved us all more than he loved himself. When it became too hard for him to live on, the pain that was the greatest for him was never his own, but rather the pain that he saw in us.

With Dad, Lynette and Lyan

My father was one of those curious, intuitive and logical fathers who are always fiddling with even the smallest of things. He was the most tenacious person I knew. Ferocious, focused, and fueled by a need to be his own man, which he accomplished in countless ways until the very end. He was not a carpenter but he could restore a dilapidated doghouse or build a chicken coop from scratch and other things that needed revamping. He was not an architect or an engineer but he helped plan and oversee the construction of Grandma Basali’s house in Dao-angan. He was not a mechanical engineer but he was so adept at fixing car troubles. He was not a chef but he could cook a scrumptious meal that would have your growling stomach shut up with elated satisfaction and a surreal experience. He was not a blacksmith but he could get anything metal and iron, shining and razor sharp. He was not a dressmaker or a tailor but he could stitch the worn out clothes of my dolls and stuffed toys. He was not a teacher but he taught us how to spell, read and write among other things like what is right and what is wrong. He was not a dictionary but he had lots of words up his sleeve. He was not a doctor but he could kiss away the pain from having my knees and elbows scathed. He was not a nurse but he gave us his tender, loving care. He was not Superman or Batman or Spiderman but he was and still is my hero. A lot of things he was not; but more than anything else, he was my Dad.

So much goes into that simple statement. He was the example I looked up to. He was my friend and was sometimes my enemy. He was my mentor and protector. He showed me what life was all about, and he showed me at a very young age. I used to fear him for being austere but I never thought he was already teaching me one of the most valuable lessons in life – standing up for what you believe in. I learned and understood a lot of things as I grew up in his care. I learned that the most important thing he had was us, his family. Though he may never had said it out loud, I know that he was really proud of what we have become. We are who we are now because we had a father like him. My father never showed his feelings. You would only see that look that told you that you did something great, and seeing him like that made you feel like you owned the world. That’s the way Dad was. He was intuitive. He somehow knew what to say and what to do, even in those times when you had not spoken. And though he knew what to say, in so many ways, he was a man of few words. You could always count on one important thing, though. Whatever he said, though the words were not expansive, they were the right words.

One big happy family... Luke was still under construction... hehehe... :D

Daddy was an angel long before he died. He was very strict as a father but that’s only because he cared for us and loved us. He was a very kind person and was always ready to help. He always had a solution to every problem and had his ways of making things simple. He never asked anybody for help but he was a very generous man, and he never wanted to be acknowledged for anything he did. When he helped, he simply helped. Dad was a strong and proud man. Quiet and reserved as well. You’d probably be surprised to know that his artistic ability was marvelous. I used to ask him to draw my art projects for me when I was a kid. He’d usually do these for me but then he would tell me to try drawing them on my own or otherwise he’d show me how it’s done. This artistic ability was not necessarily a trait that he displayed to his friends – he came from a time where art was not always the way to survive.

Happy and contented children
forebodes a happy and content family.
Thanks Mom! Thanks, Dad!

Love. That’s what always prevailed and the only way to survive. I never doubted that he loved me. Even at times when he came home late drowned in alcohol, seething and smoldering in cigarette smoke, I never doubted his love for us. No, my father was not perfect, but who in this world is? He was, however, a warrior... a jack-of-all-trades... a hero… a man of integrity and dignity... and for that, I am forever grateful. And I never doubted my father’s love.

With each spoon he fed us, with each shoelace he tied, with each bathwater he heated, with each shampoo and soap he lathered us with, with each caress he gave us, with each tear he shed for us, with each fishing pole he'd taught us how to cast, with each picnic in Danum Lake he'd prepared for us, with each smile, camera in hand, as we opened our Christmas gifts with much anticipation, with each ribbon he pinned and each medal he hung on our necks, with each and every little thing he did for us, he showed us how much he loved us. The tender and loving care he showed us was for me, more than enough to cover up and make up for all his imperfections. He may be an alcoholic and a smoker but he never ever failed to be a loving father and faithful husband. It may have been too hard for him to change his ways but he managed to do away from alcohol and cigarettes. I’ve seen how difficult it was for him but because of his love for Mom and us, his three daughters and a son, he’d succeeded. That is the greatest gift that a father can give to his family – love.

I miss you so much, Daddy. This world may forget that you ever lived but I will forever cherish your memories and would always remember that you have lived a fulfilling and dignified life. Daddy, to me, you are not dead. You will never die. Because I know that in my heart, you still live. I know that every hand you shook, every cheek you’ve pecked, every tear you’ve wiped away, every shoulder you’ve cried on, every arm you’ve brushed gave life to your own memories; that you still live in everyone who ever knew you. This I’m sure of, Dad – you will be dearly missed and your memories treasured, safely kept and locked in our hearts. I love you, Daddy! Happy Father's Day!