DALE LUGUE
A man of striking personality – tall, magnetic, and inclusive. His circle of friends spanned the prominent and well known, as well as the poor and the outcast, all of whom would share happy moments around his table. He always saw the good in people and was revered by many. Integrity, generosity, and a cheerful, refined sense of humor, were his constant companions. He made sure no one was left behind, especially his family.
He is “Conde” – my father, a self-made man. Born in Bacolor, Pampanga, not from a wealthy but from a well-respected family. As a little boy of seven, he would visit the homes of his classmates before school to shine their shoes and those of their parents. At nine, he stationed himself on the streets of Baguio to earn a living. His dream was simple – to be employed as a laborer in the nearby lumber yard – but he took his chances and went to study in Manila. To survive, he applied as a salesman at a glass and aluminum company, Aguila Glass. With zest, unwavering passion, and hard-work, he rose to the top. His sales were often the highest, and his clients were among the rich and famous. When asked how he did it, he would say “Pano ang iba takot lumapit sa mayaman!”. (Because some are afraid to approach the rich.) And so, Papa would always remind us: “See the rich as your equal; but the poor, look up to them, and see them greater than you!”
A love affair began when Papa met my Mama at Aguila Glass – “Patricia Aguila Aguila” known as “Patti”. Beautiful, wide almond- eyed, refined and elegant ‘kolehiyala’ (exclusive school) type. At first, my Mama’s impression of Conde was of a confident, well-groomed salesman with a splash of Old Spice, the “Mahangin (proud) salesman look.” She used to refer to him among her friends as “Bel-Air.” –
Then everything changed. What won Mama over was something unexpected – a disarmingly humble confession from Conde: “Alam mo Patti, mahirap lang kami, ang tatay ko ay may sakit at ang nanay ko, nagtitinda lang ng kaldero”. (You know, Patti, we are poor, my father is sick and my mother sells only pots and pans.) Patti was mesmerized.
Papa even coined a playful nickname for Mama – ”Bong,” short for ”Patti-Bong,” meaning “trap.” He respected and adored her so deeply that in my 60 years of life, I never once witnessed Papa hurt or raise his voice at her. I will always remember them sitting together on the sofa, Papa’s arm around Mama listening to timeless favorites – ”No other Love” by Jo Stafford, “Some Enchanted Evening” by Perry Como and “Tennessee Waltz” by Patti Page. Even the music, I will never forget.
We were shaped by his quality time and his powerful presence. No matter the circumstances, his composure never wavered. He remained calm, never rattled, and slept soundly even amid complex and seemingly impossible problems. He was patient and never given to worry – as his saying went, “Do not problem problem; until problem problems you!”
We respected him deeply and found joy in serving him. We would even race to take off his shoes and socks and put on his slippers when he came home – those same heavy leather slippers that, along with his thundering voice, were enough to discipline us. He did not spare the rod. It was painful, but we understood why.
His prayers were quiet and personal. He would simply tell us, “Before sleeping, offer a moment to the Lord, count your blessings throughout the day and thank Him.”
His care was not always expressed in words, but I remember one time when little food was left on the table. We were the last two to eat, and he placed everything that remained on my plate, leaving nothing for himself, saying, ”Hindi bale na ako ang magutom, huwag ka lang!” (Never mind if I get hungry as long as you are not the one hungry.)
One time, nearing Christmas; he arrived from his hometown and we learned he had given away forty thousand pesos to townspeope and passersby at the church plaza. Meanwhile, back home, my sister approached him and asked, “Pa pwede mo ba akong bigyan ng pambili ng sapatos? (Pa, can I ask money to buy a pair of shoes?). Papa replied sadly, “Sori, anak wala na akong pera.” (I’m sorry I no longer have money.). For the first time, I saw him lie down with his arm across his eyes – in tears – and heard him whisper softly…”Yung ibang tao nabigyan ko, pero ang sarili kong anak hindi ko nabigyan.” (I was able to give other people but I was unable to give my own child.) He gathered us around him and said, “Children, “always remember this… Christmas is for the poor, and for us, everyday is Christmas.”
Now, nearing the sunset of their eighties, just looking at Papa and Mama, one couldn’t help but notice how two people so different had grown to resemble each other. Perhaps because they had shared the same joys, fears, and sorrows – “a canvas beautifully painted by their unconditional love for each other.”
Then it was time to go. At Mama’s deathbed, as she took her last breath, Papa stood helplessly beside her, holding back his tears. We heard him whisper and taking her last breath, Papa was helplessly looking sadly holding back his tears; we heard him whisper, “She never complained.” Even in that pain, he was still honoring the one he loved.
His health soon deteriorated. Even then, he was such a sport. With dementia and bedridden, he bore the suffering with full acceptance. One could hear him whisper to himself, “Natural course of life.”
One night, we were alone together. I led the prayers he had taught us. Even though he could no longer speak, with a faint but audible voice, he recited “The Our Father” from beginning to end. His great love for the Lord defied even the impossible.
Soon he passed on – a man who had lived a full circle. So blessed to have cherished and cradled the woman he loved, and to have enjoyed his children, grandchildren, even his great-grandchildren!
I now fully understand that his ways and discipline were never born of anger, but of tough love. It was never about breaking us – it was about painstakingly building us up. As the saying goes, “Rough seas make a good sailor.” His values, his inner peace, and his strength of character will always remain in me, through me and with me.
On behalf of my beloved siblings Val, Christine, and Peter – thank you, Papa. Thank you, Mr. Conrado Sicat Lugue.
His life was his message!”
Happy Father’s Day!