Today, my beloved parents, Bienvenido and Leonila, would have celebrated their 70th wedding anniversary. This post is my humble homage to the 57 years they shared, from the depths of my heart.
Last year, I made a New Year’s resolution unlike any I’d attempted -ever. For the first time in my life, I actually kept it -not just for the year, but before, during, and right up to this very moment.
The resolution was simple on the surface, yet it carried real self-denial and my own brand of discipline.
Here it is: I bought nothing personal. Absolutely. Nothing. For. Myself.
With one small caveat: I allowed myself the bare essentials -medicine, food, and whatever supplies my business required. Everything else? Off-limits. Otherwise, I’d end up a dead, rotting corpse in an old, borrowed Barong Tagalog that the owner decided not to take back after my cremation.
No new clothes, no caps, no shoes, no socks, no underwear. (Don’t worry -I didn’t go commando; the old classics were meticulously rotated.)
No gadgets, no phones, no laptops, no watches. Not even a case or a strap.
No screwsdrivers, no tools, no carmeras, no lenses.
No golf bags, no clubs, no tees, no gloves.
And -hold tight -no golf balls. That could only mean I played nearly as well as Scottie and lost fewer balls, or I picked up more lost balls than usual last year. You decide.
I strolled through Nike, Adidas, and Mizuno without once reaching for my wallet.
Daiso, Uniqlo, DonKi, Lotte, H&M, and every outlet mall sent me desperate “We Miss You” and “Wish You Were Here” emails.
Black Friday, Boxing Day, 10.10, 11.11, Amazon Prime Day -they all came and went without a single, silent keyboard tap from me.
We traveled to Taiwan, Japan, and Korea last year, and I came home with exactly zero new possessions. Lighter suitcase, heavier conscience (in a good way).
But here’s the real reason I’m sharing this. This wasn’t just some odd personal challenge or a doomsday survival DIY. It was my quiet, deliberate way of honoring my parents.
I chose not to buy, even though I easily could have. They, in their time -especially while raising us children -had no choice at all. They simply could not buy anything for themselves. They borrowed money, stretched every peso, and went without -not for a single year, but for so many, so we could go to school, eat, and have a future.
I only had to think about myself. They had to think about all of us, every single day.
I only had to skip non-essentials. They often worried whether there would even be essentials.
And they did it not out of duty or a yearly resolution, but out of a love so profound, so selfless, it never asked for recognition or repayment.
By denying myself when I didn’t have to, I wanted -even if only faintly -to touch the hem of their sacrificial cloak. To carry, for one brief chapter of my life, a fraction of the weight they bore without complaint for so long.
An imperfect attempt to say thank you.
Dearest Inang and Tatang dear, though you have left this world, your love remains the strongest force in mine. Thank you for showing me what true giving looks like.
And as for the money I didn’t spend? I’ll plead Matthew 6:3.
Happiest anniversary to our family.
Happiest New Year to y’all.
Cheers!
