I quarreled with my brother. I don't know what about, one thing led to another and somehow we fell out.
The start of it was slight, the end of it was strong, he said he was right. I knew he was wrong.
* Excerpt from the poem of Eleanor Farjeon's, The Quarrel.
My Nanay and I went to Himlayan Cemetery to visit my Tatay’s grave in remembering his 14th death anniversary. August 29 is the exact date of Tatay’s death anniversary but due to household chores that Nanay and I usually do every weekend, we decided to visit Tatay the following day (August 30, 2010). Yes, it’s been 14 long years that our Tatay left us due to lung cancer but his presence in our lives still lingers on. I was nine 9 years old when he passed away but the memories I’ve shared with my father are still very vivid and unforgettable. I considered my Nanay as the soft-spoken in our family while my Tatay was the disciplinarian. Though my father has a strong personality, I was never scared of him because I know that in his strong character, a good and loving father is what he really portrayed. I heard a lot of good comments about my father that most of our relatives liked him. They’ve said that my father was well-loved by everybody because of his character. Yes, he’s strict, but...
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