The Lolo Who Keeps the Stars Awake: A Birthday Salubong for Papa

Tonight, we ended the day with something special – a gentle ritual of love that has become part of our family’s rhythm every year.

With my parents and sisters, we have a family tradition we call a birthday salubong. No matter where we are in the world – Dubai, Dublin, Batangas, or travelling – five minutes before midnight in the Philippines, everyone jumps onto a virtual call. At exactly 12 midnight, we gently wake the celebrant, who sees us through groggy eyes as we all burst into birthday song with our own cakes from our own corners of the world, glowing with love.

Because of the UAE-PH time difference, this happens at 7 PM Dubai time.

We greet, we laugh, we send our love, enjoy a slice of cake, and then we let the celebrant go back to sleep.

But tonight we added something new. I always read the girls a bedtime story; and this time I wanted to prepare our hearts to celebrate our birthday star more deeply the next day.

We’ll honour him again tomorrow – in church, over a meal, through stories and laughter. And in six days, we’ll be home in the Philippines where hugs replace screens and love becomes something you can hold. 

But tonight was for reflection. For tenderness. For the children to remember who their Lolo is.

And I told them this story...

. . .

The Lolo Who Kept The Stars Awake

Once upon a time, in a quiet town where the nights were gentle and the mornings smelled like warm pandesal, there lived a Lolo who loved the world in the softest ways.

He wasn’t a king, or a giant, or a wizard with a long cloak. But in the eyes of his grandchildren, he was something even better: he was Lolo.

Lolo had a voice that sounded like warm cocoa on a cold day. He rarely spoke, and when he did, even the most restless fireflies slowed down to listen.

And when he sang, the wind stopped fussing and the leaves stopped rustling, because everyone knew:

Lolo’s songs were magic.

They weren’t magic in the loud, sparkly way.

Not boom! magic. Not kaboom! magic. But the soft kind — the kind that feels like cozy blankets, slow heartbeats, and “it’s okay, anak, we'll manage.”

One evening, Lolo noticed something special.

His grandchildren — little dreamers with big feelings, quick thoughts, and hearts that sparkled like hidden treasure — needed stories that could follow them wherever they went.

So Lolo went on a new quest. A quiet quest. A love quest.

He sat down with his guitar, closed his gentle eyes, and sang a song into the night air.

Every note floated up, slow and patient, just like how he always loved them — with calm hands and a steady heart.

The song drifted to the stars.

And the stars, who were very sleepy that night, suddenly twinkled awake.

“Lolo!” the stars whispered. “We’ve missed your voice!”

Lolo chuckled, that soulful Lolo-laugh that made even the moon smile.

“I’m singing for my grandchildren,” he said. “So that one day, even when I’m far away, they’ll still hear me and know I love them.”

The stars huddled close.

“That’s a beautiful gift,” they said. “Can we help?”

So the stars dipped their light into Lolo’s song. And something wonderful happened:

Each time Lolo sang, a small star learned his melody and kept it safe.

And those star-filled songs floated gently down to two little girls sleeping in their bedroom, all the way in the land of tall towers and golden sand – one with a mind that danced faster than the wind, and one who loved cuddles more than clouds love the sky.

The older girl stirred. She felt the music first — soft, steady, like a hand holding hers.

She whispered, “Lolo?”

And even though Lolo was resting far away, the star carrying his song glowed a little brighter and answered her heart.

The little sister wriggled, sleepy and warm. She nudged her ate with a tiny foot (because she always kicks the people she loves the most), and she giggled in her dream.

Together, they felt safe. Together, they felt loved. 

Because Lolo’s songs weren’t just songs. They were hugs made of light.

They were memories wrapped in melody.

They were love that could travel any distance — even across tomorrow.

And every birthday after that, the stars gathered in a circle, waiting for him to sing again, so they could catch the sound and keep it glowing for his grandchildren’s hearts.

So if you ever see a star flicker a little brighter, or hear a soft hum in the wind at night, that’s just Lolo — sending a lullaby to you, the children he loves.

Because some Lolos keep stories. Some Lolos keep secrets. But yours?

Your Lolo keeps the stars awake, just so his love can find you, wherever you dream.

. . .

As I read it aloud, I watched my daughters — one with a mind that races bright as comet trails, and one with dreams soft as moonlight — settle into the comfort of their Lolo’s love.

Because this is who he is to them:

Magic in human form. A gentle lighthouse. A singer of star-hug lullabies.

To my Daddy Dearest, thank you for the love you pour into our family — your stories, your songs, your warmth... And for the legacy you are creating through music and tenderness.

You keep the stars awake for all of us. And we love you beyond measure. 

Happier and happier birthdays! And, even better, we'll see you soon.

. . .

A full tribute for Daddy/Lolo's birthday? 

Not even close! I wrote a longer, more personal reflection celebrating him too.