This is My Grandfather: Cesar Unson Sevilla

Whenever I want to wax sentimental about my childhood, I just sit and watch my son Kokoy whenever he plays with his “Papa-lo La Vista” or “Papa-lo Congre”, as he amusingly calls his grandfathers: Rene Sevilla, my dad, and Rolly de Castro, my father-in-law, differentiating each by where they live. Seeing them together, with “Papa-lo” Rene teaching Kokoy the basics of a golf swing, or “Papa-lo” Rolly teaching Kokoy to drive home a baseball in Bulacan, reminds me of that wondrous time in my life when we still had “Daddy”, as we fondly called him, with us. Towering at over six feet tall, handsome with a disarming killer smile, a booming baritone voice and a charmingly suave and debonair demeanor, Cesar Unson Sevilla was “Lolo Cesar” or “Tio Cesar” to most, a typical grandfather. But to us, he was “Daddy”, not simply because he was the father of all, but because he was also a father to all, most especially to me.

I have a picture that I will always treasure: a picture of me as a baby, being carried by Daddy on a stage, seemingly in front of an audience. I was born premature, underweight and with my physical faculties not entirely at their best. So there I was, small, bunched up like a ball, hair standing up, cross-eyed, not in the least an attractive sight. But there was Daddy, cradling me up close to him, lifting me high for the entire world to see, beaming with pride and a smile that said, “This is my grandson!”

This is only one of countless images of Daddy and me that I have kept alive in my heart because I’ve realized that it is because of that bond that Daddy forged with me that I have become a whole person.

The typical grandparent is always nurturing, sentimental, fawning over his or her grandchildren. But Daddy’s very fatherly care and more than special concern for me was, to me, beyond exception.

The novelist Victor Hugo put it best when he said, “There is no grandfather who does not adore his grandson.”

I remember how Daddy would always attend awarding ceremonies at the Ateneo Grade School whenever I would garner first or second honors to pin the medal on me and take me to the big Magnolia Ice Cream House on Aurora Boulevard afterwards for my favorite banana split or daredevil. Or how he would bring me to the COD Department Store in Cubao to buy a plastic toy car and wolf down a plate of that sumptuous pancit luglog at Pancit ng Taga-Malabon. Even in Daddy’s later years, when he was old and his eyes were weak, he would labor to drive me, and I know even my mom, to wherever we needed to go, even amidst a storm or blinding rain. Daddy never hesitated to give me what I asked from him, but thankfully, through his actions and gentle discipline, he taught me to ask for only what I needed.

“Grandchildren are the crown of old men…” Prov. 17:6

It wasn’t just me to whom Daddy gave that gift of a wonderful childhood. When I was a little boy, before Paolo and Cristina were born, it was just me and my older sister, Princess (she'd rather be called "Camille", her formal name, now). Together with Daddy, we were a team and he’d take us anywhere and everywhere. I honestly believe that, to Daddy, we were his greatest accomplishments the joys of his life because he wanted so much to give us all that he and life could offer.

Daddy was part of many “firsts” in our lives. Daddy took us to Arcegas Department Store to buy our first green and orange pedal-powered Go-Karts. Princess and I had days of fun, careening down the back street of our house on A.Rita St., in old San Juan with the neighborhood kids. Daddy also took us to the Patria Bicycle store on E.Rodriguez to buy our first bicycles, blue and red, that Princess and I, again, took to race around the neighborhood.

Daddy gave Princess and I our first roller skates and brought us regularly to that wooden skating rink (though it was more of a square) at the top of Fiesta Carnival, Cubao, where we would promptly give the floor a good beating. Afterwards, as a reward, Daddy would take us, bruised bums, skinned knees and all, to Ma Mon Luk along Aurora Boulevard to have a bowl of mami and steaming, hot siopao. Luneta, when it was still pristine and beautiful, was also sanctuary to Daddy and us, another one of our favorite weekend destinations, where we would go to awe spectators and promenade goers with our wobbly-kneed skating prowess.

Daddy would take us out of town too, riding around in that big Chevrolet Camaro sportscar – from a beach in Pangasinan where he bought me that one-of-a-kind Styrofoam kite plane, to Baguio where he would let Princess and I enjoy all the horseback-riding, boating and bicycling pleasure it could offer. Daddy even introduced us to one of our very first experiences of an authentic expression of cinematic art, in Baguio; a quaint little film called “Indian Summer”-- that turned out, to ours’ and Daddy’s surprise, to be one of those bomba films of the seventies. Later on, Daddy, the great film connoisseur that he was, always accompanied us to experience other enthralling cinema greats such as Frankenstein 3-D and Ben. Proving that they were hip beyond doubt, Daddy and Lola also took us to see Jaws at the Diamond theatre in Cubao and Grease at the Circle theatre in Quezon City when we were in our teens. Even when Daddy and Lola retired back to Marinduque, they remained very much a part of our growing years. Every summer, every Holy Week, we would go home to the province to the big ancestral house by the beach in Gasan or to that modern, cozy bungalow, also by the beach, in Boac. Daddy never failed to make those visits special, whether it was to school us in the intricacies of the pongs, kangs and chows of mah jong or to give Princess and I, at age twelve and thirteen, our very first driving lessons in the bright, yellow-orange jeep of the MARELCO.

“My food is to do the will of Him who sent Me, and to accomplish His work” John 4:34

But what Daddy gave to me, and, I think, to his family most of all, was a shining example of a life that was worth living. He showed me the wisdom of embracing, with enthusiasm, the primary responsibilities of a father: having a will to obey God’s will as revealed in holy scripture; having work, to do not simply his job but also work in his home, church and community, and; having a woman to love.

For Daddy, Christ was a way of life and he showed it by being a great father and grandfather and husband to family. As a father-in-law to Mama, I know that he was always kind to her and treated her with the same respect he accorded Lola. I know that if Daddy were still alive, he would also approve of my marrying Rox, my wife who is so much like Lola in her ways. I know he would have been very pleased to have her as a granddaughter-in-law. When I think of my son Kokoy, it also is not without a tinge of sadness that I think about the amazing life experiences that they could have shared and celebrated together as great-grandfather and great-grandson. Daddy also touched other people with love and continued to do so, even when there were those who attacked him for their own selfish, political or personal interests. Daddy was both brother and friend most especially to the oppressed and needy. And he was a just and fair man. To this day, I would venture to say that there are people who can remember how Daddy fought for them or how Daddy made that positive difference in their lives.

For Daddy, work was all about service and dedication to others. In Marinduque, Daddy worked to bring the gains of electrical power to the people by forming its provincial rural electric cooperative, MARELCO, and overseeing the laying down of electrical power lines across the whole province. Daddy also worked to realize and live out the Christian faith in him and in others through ministry in the Cursillo, the Knights of Columbus, the Christian Family Movement, the Santo Cristo Parish in old San Juan and in our hometown community in Gasan. Along with Lola, I remember how he would teach catechism and principles of Christian living to destitute families from the barrios and barangays in old San Juan as well as in Marinduque. I know they were also both a presenting couple and facilitators to couples, young and old alike, at Marriage Encounter weekends in Marinduque.

And for Daddy, Family was the most sacred of institutions. Daddy knew how to love Lola and make her happy. I never heard anything but love and praise for Daddy from Lola. In their Golden Wedding Anniversary, I could sense that romance was still alive in Daddy even after celebrating fifty wonderful years with Lola. He never ever stopped being a gentleman to Lola. It always gave me that warm feeling inside to see Daddy walking with Lola on his arm or Daddy still sending letters to Lola when they had to be apart while he worked in Marinduque.

I would have wanted to say all these to Daddy, had he still been alive today. I’d let him know that just as it is said in scripture that “the glory of all sons are their fathers”, for me it is also true that the “glory of all grandsons are their grandfathers”.

So while I cannot, allow me to, at least, write this in tribute to him. I want everybody to know, and this I say with love and with pride: To many, This is who Cesar Unson Sevilla was. To us, This is who Cesar Unson Sevilla will always be.

This is my grandfather.