It was a privilege to have dad here in bataan. He was not fit to travel but travel he did on a stormy afternoon against his dr's wishes perhaps to see this piece of land he fought for for the last time. the day before he died, we drove him to a high point in the hiway just outside my subdivision from where he looked at corregidor from end to end, strained to see the carballo island behind it. smiling and nodding as if in approval of the nice view, we proceeded down to mariveles proper and retraced the death march on our way back from kilometer zero. he would drift to sleep but would open his eyes to see the kilometer markers...the first few, anyway. he was sound asleep by the time we drove up my driveway hopeful he would see mt. samat in the morning on his way back to baguio. unfortunately, he passed away shortly after his morning bath at the same bedroom where my husband died exactly 7 yrs and 2 months ago. we did rush him to the department of national defense arsenal hospital in limay, the next town, hoping to revive him but he was pronounced DOA. He loved Baguio like no other place on earth so i found it strange when emilie, my dad's 2nd wife, heard him say "i'm home" when he arrived in bataan. stranger still when he said he didn't want to travel back to the city. I guess he wanted to be remembered as one who fought and died in bataan even if there was a gap of more than 60 years in between!
Thank you for being there for all of us.
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