As I have mentioned a number of times, I didn't grow with my parents. I was with my grandparents since birth. On my recent trip back home, Tita E and I (as always) reminisced about Daddy. We visited the cemetery and Andi was getting wet from the tears that were rolling down my face. We could never forget the times daddy used to drive us and pick us up from our respective schools. I know he's itching to get to work or tired from work but he braves the traffic in Mendiola (CEU for Tita E) and Taft Avenue (DLSU for me). Only a father's love can be that patient (sometimes I even make him wait) and daddy's not known for his patience. Thus, it all boils down to love. I might not have been with my Papa for years but I know he's just a call away. He's someone anybody will enjoy talking to. He's so friendly that I feel that some people are taking him for granted. Only recently, during the birth of my 2 daughters, did I get to spend time with him in one roof. And, boy...