FATHER

My Dad was a SAGRADO KATOLIKO. There is no other way to state it.

One proof. I was named after Mama Mary.

He was a dedicated church worker along with my Mom. My childhood was filled with days when they would go out often, not to party or hang out with friends, but to get involved in different parish activities and endeavors. Their friends consisted of priests, bishops, nuns and other lay people all doing voluntary work for the parish. As young children, my brothers were altar boys and I was a member of the Legion of Mary. As teenagers, my brothers and I joined the church choir and youth programs. Our family always attended church celebrations and we would be part of the ceremonies one way or the other. Even as an adult, my Dad would always remind me to go to mass even if I always did. It even came to a point when he annoyed the heck out of me because I always went to mass but he kept reminding me, EVERY SINGLE week.

My Dad used to serve as lay minister in church. You know, those who assisted the priest in giving out Holy Communion. His last few years, he was assogned to the 6:30pm mass every Sunday. I always preferred hearing mass in the morning but when Dad got sick and had a hard time walking, the kids and I would drive him to church and hear mass with him.

A year or so before he got sick, Dad initiated the installation of the bells at the side of the church altar. It signals the start of every ceremony, every solemn moment of the mass, the Glory to God song, the raising of the bread and blood.

To this day, I get teary-eyed everytime I hear it. The clanging of the bells sound like my Dad telling me never to miss mass. To always be a responsible Catholic. To live like Jesus and Mama Mary. To be the daughter he has brought me up to be.

Someday Dad, I will meet you again and will tell you I did just what you wanted me to.