Aunt Bell, my mom's sister, put into beautiful words memories of my dad, famous among relatives and friends for his fresh fruit juices, hand-squeezed and blended with love.
I've often told him how it's much practical to buy from the supermarket instead of spending hours squeezing kilos after kilos of oranges - no sweat and much cheaper. I guess, I never understood why Dad makes fruit juices for gatherings until I read this poem.
Anyone not close to our family may be surprised why my aunt wrote this poem. See, my dad is closer to my mom's siblings than to any of his own. He married my mom when my aunts were still in their teens and practically was like a real brother to them.(by Alma Bella Tabamo)
A Glimpse At The Juice Maker
A Glimpse At The Juice Maker
Rummaging through the files of the wondrous yesteryears
Finding some scribbled notes waiting to be raveled
A libretto for a man whose existence has determined
A prodigious respect on the clan, such commitment he extended.
Browsing down memory lane, the first time you visited
In denims and blue shirt, as my mom fondly commented
Is he a driver or a guard, the one she had dated?
As you seek my sister’s hand for love and eventual marriage
Pioneered the in-laws joining the family
Authored celebrations, the picnics and far-flung scenery
Fortified our minds on the value of camaraderie
Such wits and funny thoughts charmed us completely.
One cannot ignore, the way you quenched our thirsts
For the enormous endeavor on the juices you prepared
Not just on the heart’s desire for solidarity to create
And foment a speck of unity amidst the sudden illness.
In those moments of pain you fervently solicited
The value of oneness, an inscription of forgiveness
Break the barrier which may ravage the cloak of happiness
That the family has built come then rain or high waters.
Grateful as I am for the shelter you have shared
And allowed us to be recipients of your good-natured ways
In your home, where my mom was received like a queen
As well as all my kids who dwelled on its frame
In God’s call you heeded, now you’re gone for two years
No longer is the pain your body has to take
Your ears can no more hear the aura of silence
In the tong its table the absence can’t be witnessed.
How heavy was your heart when you did say goodbye
For failure to connect the circle to reconcile
A harmonious paragon of a trellis in tranquil minds
Like a torch that shall light our hearts with love’s fire
Au revoir mi hermano, thank you and I salute
For the concern and indisputable aim beyond repose
To leave a recuerdo, a relic of unforgotten virtues
Like the juices you have blended, not the taste but the purpose.
(In memory of my late brother-in-law, Mr. Rodolfo Obillo, in lieu of his 2nd death anniversary last June 3, 2011 likewise in celebration of Father’s Day.)
Happy Father's Day to all fathers both on earth and in heaven.