By Nina Bianca Dumalag Sanglay
What can I say about a man who loved me so dearly since I was born?
My name is Nica, daughter of Nanette & Robert Sanglay, grandaughter of Daisy & Raul Dumalag.
I am 33 years old, and I am not yet married. Ask me why. This is my guess.
I was maybe seven or eight, it was one hot noon after classes were dismissed, and a boy came up to me, and handed me a popsicle. After giving me the Twin Pops, he abruptly left, running.
Little did I know that PapaLo (my Lolo Raul Dumalag) was in sight, peeking through the chain link fence of the SU Elementary School.
Papalo was teasing me. He said the boy liked me. I didn’t respond. I didn’t like the boy. He was short and stout. Yes, much like a teapot. Papalo never stopped teasing me until we reached home that day. He got goofy and was giddy. He was enjoying it.
As I grew older, Papalo never teased me again about boys. And for as long as I can recall, he encouraged my other cousins to get married, just NOT me. These were always Papalo’s words, “Dili mag minyo si Nica,” he’d announce to everyone. And he would tell me, “Day, ayaw pag minyo.”
Maybe it’s a curse of some sort. And terrifyingly, maybe it’s even working. At 33, not married, never was married. Papalo, hatagi pod ko’g chance.
Kidding aside, it now pains me to think that if God one day grants me the blessing of a husband, I just lost the chance to be able to introduce him to Papalo.
Papalo, a great man who dedicated his life to his family, loved ones, and his community. A man who gave a part of his life for the service of others, performing civic-social responsibilities through the Rotary Club of Dumaguete South. A man who physically toiled himself for his father’s company, driving delivery trucks loaded with sand & gravel. A man who offered his life to his children, always putting them first. A man who supplied consistent guidance to his grandchildren. A man who loved passionately and unconditionally, committing his heart and soul to one woman, my lola Daisy.
Let me share to you more stories about my Papalo.
Before his infection from his knee replacement surgery in 2001 affected his mobility and lifestyle, Papalo was strong and able. That’s how I’d like to remember him.
Back then, Papalo frequented the Dumaguete boulevard with his friends. After his get-together with the so-called “Boulevard Boys,” he would ask us to join him at either Bethel or Chin Loong. I remember the kids would complain, “Bethel napod?” or “Chin Loong napod?” Of course, we wanted to try other restaurants or even fastfood places in the area as wel, but Papalo was the type who’d stick to what he was familiar with.
He was a suki in those restaurants, and the staff and servers knew him very well, and what his usual favorite orders were.
Looking back, maka mingaw man diay ang Bethel and Chin Loong. But the dining experience will never be the same without Papalo.
My Papalo was always very conscious of his appearance. If you know Papalo, you would have known that his shoes, sandals, and even house slippers are not of the same height. One always had a custom-made heel to balance his uneven leg length (which was an after-effect of his problematic right knee).
Whenever he bought a new pair, the next thing you would hear from him would be, “Bert (referring to my Papi), ihatod na ni sa Avione (Shoe Repair).”
His pants were also always adjusted, one side longer than the other. He used to have them altered by Nong Ben who had a small tailoring shop at Daang Taytayan.
Papalo also had an obsession with his hinapay. He would get regular haircuts from his former hairstylist Dicky, and now barbero Nonoy, every month, or sometimes every two weeks.
And every video call we had, he’d ask, “Day, maayo ra akong alot?” He would constantly brush his hair, fix his bangs to the side, and look at himself in the mirror.
Papalo also liked clothes. He used to request for new polo shirts all the time. But when his social activities became less frequent, he requested instead for pajamas as gift. Pajamas for his birthday, pajamas on Fathers’ Day, pajamas as Christmas gift, pajamas even as a no-occasion gift.
A few months ago in December, we took Papalo to Robinsons to buy him a new pair of eye glasses. Months before that, he had been requesting me and my brother Gio to get him new glasses. Never a fail, on every video call, naay padungog nga gusto ug new glasses.
And when he finally got his new pair of glasses, he would compare my frame with his, and he would say, “Murag mas patchada lagi nang imohang frame? Pwede pa ni pa-ilisan akoa?”
He was always mindful of his appearance, and took great care in how he presented himself. He was always neat and clean. He was particular with always looking his best.
His attention for ensuring a good impression, Papalo was a very selfless person. To us, his grandchildren, he was always generous with his time and insights. He provided guidance when needed, and disciplined us when necessary. I believe Papalo loved us so much.
I know he was like that, too, with my Mommy and her siblings. I would hear stories of how Papalo taught them how to tie their shoe laces. How he would clean and polish their school shoes every day. Every time they would come home from swimming from the beach, he would ask them to line up to clean their ears one-by-one. He would put on their socks, brush their hair, and help them prepare for school. And he always ensured they went to school on time.
As little kids, Mommy remembers that Papalo and Mamala would take them out onboard their motorcycle.They enjoyed rides around the City. As a family, they used to love watching Bruce Lee, John Wayne, Clint Eastwood movies together at the Main and Park Theater. They used to eat barbecue from the vendors formerly situated across Union Drug, and eat them by the boulevard. On free days, they were also fond of collecting seashells, and building sand castles by the shore.
When my Mommy started working, she got assigned in Cebu. She always proudly recalls how Papalo travelled with her to Cebu to help her find a boarding house that he thoroughly inspected and scrutinized. He was strict with her but very loving and caring. Mommy would playfully remark — since Mamala was very career-driven — how Papalo provided more nurturing care and guidance to them.
He was always ready to serve. And he did. All his life… with Mamala, most especially. He quietly, yet happily, stayed in the sidelines, giving Mamala room to grow and flourish. He was always supportive.
I recall Papalo driving Mamala back and forth to school. From Silliman, where she was dean then vice president, to NORSU where she was again dean, and even travelling to Dipolog, taking the Cokaliong boat or sometimes the Montenegro boat in the wee hours of the morning to be with her as she performed her duties as dean of the College of Nursing in Andres Bonifacio College.
Papalo would stay for hours in the parking area, waiting patiently for Mamala, with no complaints ever. His service was unwavering and unselfish.
I admire the love that Papalo and Mamala had for each other. How he devoted himself, dedicated his time, how thoughtfully and attentively he served and tendered to her every need. He was a constant source of support and encouragement to her, allowing her to reach great feats in her passions and her profession.
Mamala, in return, provided Papalo all her love, amidst all the health scares and struggles. Every time Papalo would be confined in the hospital, Mamala would be right by his side, putting all work out of the way, without hesitation.
The past days before Papalo passed, I saw Mamala’s faithfulness and love for Papalo. Never leaving his side, staying 10 days straight in the hospital with him, only leaving his bedside to go to the memorial chapel or to use the bathroom and shower.
Papalo, you will be missed. We will miss you at your designated chair in the dining table. We will miss how everything stops at home when it’s time for Batang Quiapo. We will miss hearing My Way, New York New York, and The Lady is a Tramp while you are in the shower. We will miss you brushing your hair while looking intently at yourself in the mirror. We will miss repeating ourselves during video calls because you are hard of hearing. We will miss even the swear words. We will miss everything about you, Papalo.
But as they say, God has His plans, and we trust His will. We find peace in knowing that you are now at rest. We promise to continue to carry the love you gave us in our hearts. We love you so much. I love you so much, Papalo.
