We attended the funeral of a hero, he is my bestfriend's father, his name is Colonel Esperidion Domingo.
He served in the army and fought in wartorn places in Mindanao throughout his career. When he retired, he decided to join the Philippine National Police force. He wanted to remain in public service for as long as he could.
He succumbed to lung cancer: his final battle. He was a man, dearly loved by his children, most especially by his only daughter Ligaya who decided to come home from New York and care for him during his final months.
I took my son with me to the funeral that early morning, he behaved really well. He was wearing his soldier gear and was constantly waving, saluting the policemen and soldiers during the funeral march. He was in awe at the ongoing funeral rites and the huge throng of people in attendance.
That day was the first time, he asked me questions about Death. The whole experience seemed to overwhelm him.
I am immediatedly piqued by the sight of the trombone player during the march.
Handing over of the National flag. Ligaya's strong will and adventurous spirit probably comes from her Papa. Namana niya, she inherited it.
During the burial, Cow asked his Tita Vi. Cowcow: Why is He in a box? Tita Vi: He is sleeping. Cowcow: But its not night time and he's sleeping na? Tita Vi: because he's tired.
On the way home, Cow asked another question, "Why they put lolo grandpa in the ground when he's sleeping?"
Aah so many questions, even to this day. I just have to get my answers right enough to satisfy his curiousity.