Remembering "Sir Bobot"

On the raised platform: Irineo "Sir Bobot" Carritero

Every day I see him walk with his back straight and his head held up high. I watch as he marches to the beat of any band that passes by our house, his feet never missing a beat. I notice how he would tap his feet when he hears a drum being played, hum or dance at the sound of a song he likes and tap his fingers in time with the music playing. I see him stand up in front of the band and conduct it like a true blooded bandmaster. And in him, I remember Sir Bobot.

My son Ynnoh is the exact epitome of my father. He has this inborn love for music and a good ear that can hear a band playing from a mile away. We would watch the Drum and Bugle Corps practicing while he either conducts in front of the playing members or march his feet, correctly, behind them. He would watch TV and tap his feet or fingers in time with the music. He would sing the songs he hears, although not very articulately, but with correct tunes. Things that I saw my father do while he was alive

Ynnoh at 2 years old

I never realized that so many people looks up to my father. For a time, I see him only as our provider. A person who pays the bills, sends us to school, and sees our every mistake. It was always my mom who was there while we were growing up. My father only attends school when you have an award. He was only there when someone needed to be punished for wrong doings or to criticize mistakes.

My father may be the biggest SOB I have ever met. He was mean, strict, and tactless. He is a perfectionist and dislikes losers. He expects the people around him to jump at his every word and follow blindly whatever he says. He came from a patriarchal family and adopted their values as his own. He commands and expects to be obeyed.

For a long time I never understood why whenever he asks me to buy something, I cannot go home empty handed. He would call me "Nonesy(Nonsense)" when I blabber about unimportant things. He would challenge me to compete with either my siblings or older people. Whenever my sisters and I quarrel, he would ask each one what happened. And whoever explained it better would not be punished.

I did not understand that when he forbids us to go home empty handed, he was teaching us to try and find a way. That in life, you cannot tell your kids not to eat just because you do not have a job. That you must not stop until you found a solution. When he calls me "Nonesy", I did not understand that he did not want me to waste my time on unimportant things. That when he challenges us, he was pushing as to do more. And when he asks us to explain, he was allowing us democratic freedom to express our thoughts, even as kids. I did not know that his strict discipline made us strong and grow up to be women with "BALLS". A trait which, most guys does not even have.

When my oldest son was diagnosed of hearing impairment, he called me a FOOL when he saw me crying. He told me that I am lucky because he was deaf instead of brain damaged or physically handicapped. That no one would even believe he has impairment because he looks normal. Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I was angry at him for calling me a fool. And that anger- it pushed me out of my depression.

I can go on and on about the things he did and what I think of them at that time. But all of those things boil down to one single point - Regrets.

Regrets because I did not see the greatness in him before, reflected on the wisdom of his words and understood the hardness that he was showing. I did not realize that what he had done was to equip us with the skills we need to face life, to toughen our hides against the bad things we would encounter, to challenge us to reach for the stars and to train us to do the things that we wanted to do.

Now that I do not see him anymore, I finally understood everything that he had taught us, the words that he had spoken, his actions, his words, his life.

Fortunately, I will never miss him. Through my son, I will remember him every day. Through him, I will continue to understand him. For every day I am reminded that I am lucky to have been a part of a great person. Lucky to have met a "Sir Bobot", my bandmaster, my teacher... My Father.