In 2009 my father visited Sydney, he told us it would be his last time because after turning 70 he would be required to undergo medical clearance to be issued a visa. He didn't want to be subjected to that kind of scrutiny, also he already knew there was going to be cause for rejection.
He was already starting his decline, That year he didn't have the energy to go anywhere on his own. On previous visits he would not stay home during the day while I went to work. He would take the train to the city and walk around. His favourite place to go to was an oversized chess set in Hyde Park and he would spend hours playing and watching matches.
He always liked playing chess. He played in IBM, he played in the plaza at Pilar Village. He enjoyed matching wits with an opponent on a level playing field governed by discrete rules. Those times that I watched, he usually won. Those times I played him, he usually won. Except when he played my sister Eileen, she once hustled him by playing for money and he ended up owing her hundreds of pesos when he kept trying to win back his losses. He never played her for money again.
He also liked games of chance, pusoy, pusoy dos, tong-its, and mah-jong among many. I think these were his analogues for living life. There are times when your own talents and choices determine your outcomes, but there are times when you have to play the cards you've been dealt as best you can and leave the rest to luck.
He grew up not knowing his father, he was two years old when the war reached the Philippines and my grandmother gave him up to be raised by an uncle in Manila. It wasn't until the 1980s when the Mencias family reconnected.with Antonio and we got to know our uncles Dondi and Rob, aunties Cielo and Dolly.
As an enterprising young boy, he built himself a wooden shoe-shine box and stocked it with a small bottle of black dye, an old toothbrush to apply the dye, shoe polish, a cloth rag, and a horsehair brush. It had a carry handle that doubled as a stand for customers to rest their foot on as he worked on the shoe. He roamed the streets charging customers money for shoe shines, but he only tells the story of the one angry customer whose white shoes he ruined with black dye.
He went to high school at Jose Abad Santos in Binondo. It was a rough neighbourhood and he learned to hold his own in a fight, Tony was a popular one to have by your side if you ever got into a fight. His high school mates conferred him the title of Sargent-at-arms.
Working as a typist and other odd jobs he was able to put himself through college and obtain a degree in commerce major in Accounting from FEU. It was also in college where he met my mother Marcela. They were both working students and he offered to help with her studies as a handy excuse to spend more time with her.
By the time they married, Antonio was already supporting his cousins Tio Manding, Tita Cora, Tita Mona and putting them through school. Antonio and Marcela lost their first child in a tragic stillbirth, my Kuya Mar-Antonio in 1964. I was born the next year, my sister Eileen, 2 years 2 months later, Marlene another 2 years and 2 months later, and finally Chris 3 years and 3 months later. They took the phrase "Family Planning" and ran with it. We in turn provided 4 grandchildren Alexandra, Tala, Saffira and Vida Ligaya.
His career with IBM peaked when he was posted as an expat at the regional office in Hong Kong, and it hit a low with his subsequent retrenchment upon his return to the Philippines. He hit another career peak as a public servant directly reporting to the Secretary of the Department of Transportation and Communication during the Cory Aquino administration. He capped off his professional career as financial controller of RCS until his retirement in 2004. After retirement he found use for his talent and experience serving three years as president of BF Homes Homeowners Association.
It is unnerving when we first realise how frail our parents have become. All our lives they have been this towering figure of strength, wisdom and authority. And almost overnight they cross a threshhold and became old. And then the next instant, they are gone.
Each life is a story, a narrative of events and relationships, starting with birth and ending in death. Each of us carry a chapter or two of Antonio's story in our hearts and in our own personal life story. We have been changed by him and we have changed him in return. Over the last few days, we have met many of you and we thank you for sharing your anecdotes. We take comfort in knowing that his spirit lives on as we live on and enrich each others lives. Just as he had enriched ours.
Farewell Papa. See you on the other side.
