Legacy of Love: A Tribute to My Grandfathers

This morning, I woke up with my grandfathers on my mind. Both of them—my lolo, my Tatay, from my mom and dad’s side—passed away just last year. It was a year filled with grief for our family. (Though it also brought great joy, like when my son Miggy was born—but that’s a story for another day.)

Today, I want to reflect on their lives, the legacy they left behind, and how their love still quietly shapes our family.

Simple Lives, Lasting Lessons

I often reflect on my grandfathers and how, even now, their values and character guide the way I live.

I grew up in a middle-class family, but in rural Philippines, “middle class” meant we had just the essentials—a modest home, food on the table, clothes to wear, and sometimes, electricity and tap water. We didn’t have much, but we had enough. And that was more than plenty.

Tatay Cardo, my grandfather on my dad’s side, was a soldier in the Philippine Air Force. He also farmed—raising livestock, planting and harvesting his own crops.Tatay Ugaw, on my mom’s side, was a fisherman—or more accurately, he had a backyard fishpond that fed his family of 14 (yes, fourteen!) and even gave them enough to sell at the market.

Their lives were simple. Their love was immense. They weren’t rich in money, but they were rich in wisdom and in the way they loved their children—and later, us, their grandchildren.

Memories from Childhood

As a kid, I looked forward to summers and Christmases because those were the times we visited our grandparents. Whether it was the five-hour trip to Pangasinan or the sixteen-hour journey to Bicol, I didn’t care. All I cared about was being with my lolos and lolas—and, of course, getting “spoiled.”

As I got older, those visits didn’t excite me as much. Like most teenagers, I wanted to hang out with friends, not spend quiet afternoons with old folks. But in our family, skipping a visit wasn’t really an option. When Dad said we were going, we were going.

Now, I’m glad we did.

War Stories and Fishing Lessons

Tatay Cardo was a World War II veteran and a member of the Philippine Expeditionary Forces to Korea (PEFTOK). He’d tell me stories about life during the war, how he survived, and how shy he was around Korean girls. At the time, I didn’t appreciate those stories much—I’d heard them so many times that I’d quietly excuse myself.But now? I would give anything to sit and listen to them again.

My memories of Tatay Ugaw are more scattered—it had been over a decade since I last saw him before he passed. But I remember the thrill of fishing with him, the way he taught me to lure a catch, use a rod, and even fish with my bare hands. Every morning, we’d go to the market to sell his fish, and then we’d share a plate of pansit bato.He’d often talk about how much he loved Nanay Diday. Looking back, maybe that explains the 14 children—teehee!

Generational Wisdom

I wrote this piece not just to remember, but to honor my grandfathers. They influenced the parents who raised me. And despite all the mistakes parents inevitably make (mine included), I’ve come to truly appreciate the love they gave me—a love they inherited from their Tatays and Nanays.

Grandparents have a unique role. They’re not always the disciplinarians. They’re often the storytellers, the gentle guides.Tatay Cardo wasn’t a strict, stoic soldier—he was warm, cheerful, and full of wisdom. He didn’t scold me when I got out of line (and there were plenty of those times); he let my dad handle that.Tatay Ugaw was the same. They led with quiet strength and deep love.

There’s a saying that goes, “If I knew grandchildren were this much fun, I would’ve had them first.”It makes me smile—because it’s true. Grandparents get the joy without the stress. And what they leave behind is something no inheritance can match: a legacy of love and wisdom.

A Poem Worth Remembering

Years ago, someone sent me this poem. I didn’t appreciate it fully at the time. But now, I feel every word.

A Child in Their Eyes

His mom and dad sat amazed and surprised;

he was only a boy, a child in their eyes.

They wondered how he was young but yet so wise.

They asked how he learned the secret to life.

“Remember that summer before Grandpa died?

How I went to his house and we played outside?

He taught me a lesson that serves as my guide,

and that’s why I speak of him with such great pride.

“He said that I only have one life to live, so I must learn to love and forgive.

He said that my actions will always outlive the words that I say and the excuses I give.

“He told me the secret of true success: ' Prosperity, peace, and happiness are not

in all of the things we possess, but in the lives that we touch and the love we express.’

“I promised him that I would strive to be a young man of high integrity

—to shine my light for the world to see,

and do unto others as I want done to me.”

“So that’s why I choose to live this way;

My actions speak more than the words I say.

Tomorrow’s not promised, so I vow every day

to shine like the stars in their perfect array.”

A Legacy for My Son

Now that I’m a dad, I understand more deeply the importance of the lessons grandparents pass down.

My son Miggy never got the chance to meet the great men I call Tatay. And while that breaks my heart a little, I’m also incredibly grateful that he still has my parents, his aunts and uncles—his own Nanay and Tatay to look up to.

And you can count on me to make sure he connects with them. To make sure he hears their stories. To make sure the love and legacy that shaped me—shapes him too.