I am Kristin Charisse Chiu Siao. Apo ko ni Judge Chiu.
I am a lawyer by profession, which means that I basically write for a living. I write all kinds of stuff — demand letters, affidavits, contracts both simple and complex, legal opinions, position papers — you name it, I’ve probably written something like it a couple of times before.
But I have never written a eulogy.
Today, I struggle with the most difficult writing assignment of my life — to tell the story of my beloved grandfather, Judge Eleuterio “Terry” Chiu. It is difficult because, for one, I was only present in less than half his life — he was 49 years old when I was born, and already at the peak of his career as an RTC Judge.
Surely, my narrative would miss out on his early years as a smart boy from Siaton, how he studied and worked hard to become a lawyer, how he met the love of his life — a beautiful lady from Tanjay by the name of Estrella Mirasol — and how they would raise four children — Richard, Maebelle (my mother), Marjorie, and Vicmore — all smart, successful, and good-looking like their parents.
I was only in less than half of his life, but he is in all of mine.
So let me, instead, tell you about Judge Chiu by telling you my story — our story.
I call him Daddy because he was too young to be called Lolo when I was born. I am like his youngest child. Daddy has always been a strong and steady presence in my life. We lived with them in the big house in Daro for most of my childhood until I was around 11 or 12, then we moved to Pulantubig, and became next-door neighbors.
I remember that as a kid, I would always tag along with Daddy and Mommy in many things that they did, like attending parties, going to Silliman Beach, spending the weekend in Siaton, watching Daddy play tennis, or just hanging out in their water bed. Daddy would sometimes pick me up from school — a task that he shared with many in the family.
Growing up, I knew that Daddy was well-respected in the community. I would hear him being interviewed over the radio, or his name mentioned in the news. He was friends with the important people in business and politics. He handled some of the more controversial cases, and was highly regarded for his excellent work as Executive Judge.
Even at a young age, I knew without a doubt that he was brilliant and honorable, he was compassionate and kind, he was disciplined and hardworking, he was generous and genuine.
Despite the demands of his career in the judiciary, Daddy was first and foremost, a family man. He and Mommy were always present in all the important moments in the lives of their children and grandchildren.
Every time I would receive an award on stage at school, he would be there. Every time we achieved something special, like pass an exam or make good grades, we would always look forward to the reward from Daddy and Mommy — which consisted of a monetary prize, and the most loving praises for a job well done. Even on not so important days, he was always there with his comforting presence, and unwavering support. Always.
I finished my BS Accountancy degree from Silliman the same year that Daddy would retire from the judiciary. We threw a big party for him, and all his friends came and gave their heartfelt tributes.
After his retirement, Daddy would become dean of Foundation University’s College of Law & Jurisprudence. He was a dedicated dean, and worked tirelessly to bring the College to greater heights.
After a few years as dean, he then went on to fully enjoy the happy years of his retirement with the love of his life, his Inday Lily.
I, on the other hand, would then proceed to take up law in UP, of course with the encouragement and support (and some form of bribery) from Daddy, and the rest of the family.
I joined one of the biggest law firms in the country after passing the Bar, which earned me Daddy’s new nickname for me — “the lawyer from Makati”.
Every time I would come home to Dumaguete, he would ask me: “How is the lawyer from Makati?” I knew he was happy that I ended up becoming a lawyer like him.
After almost two decades in the big city, I returned home to Dumaguete for good at the height of the pandemic. The past two years of being home has been such a blessing as I have been able to spend more time with family. I got to see Daddy more often when the family would gather for dinner at their house in Pulantubig. When he would see me, his face would immediately light up as he would say: “Gwapa kaayo.” He was still my biggest cheerleader, clapping his hands with delight when I would sing (off-key) on the karaoke.
Of course, I felt like the favorite, but I suspect that Daddy has a special way of making each of us feel like we were the favorite.
For our family, Daddy has been our guide, our yardstick for what is good and right. When a member of the family does something naughty, or plans something foolish, we would always say: “Bantay kang Daddylo” or “Isumbong tikaw ni Daddylo”. And we would know right away that we shouldn’t do that thing if there would be a chance that Daddy would disapprove.
One of my greatest life goals has been to get Daddy’s approval, and to make him proud. That is my small way of showing my gratitude for all the things he has done for me.
His passing has left an ache in my heart that will likely never go away, and which is the other reason why writing this is so difficult.
But Daddy’s story does not end here. His legacy continues in the life of Mommy, in the lives of their children and grandchildren, in the hearts of the people he has touched. His story continues through my life, and I will try to live it in a way that will always make him proud. So that when people recognize the good that I do, they would say: “Apo na sya ni Judge Chiu.”
This is my story. This is my destiny. Apo ko ni Judge Chiu.
