The Long Way Home to My Father: A Birthday Tribute

Today, on my beloved father's birthday, I wanted to honour him in the most honest way I know: through story.

This is the fuller version of my tribute:

a journey through childhood, healing, faith, and grace… and the story of how God brought both of us home to each other.

Below is the full reflection — the one too long, too emotional, and too deeply personal for posting anywhere — but perfect for this quiet corner of my writing world.

Growing up, I was the apple of my Daddy’s eye — until suddenly, I wasn’t.

From being an only child, I became the eldest of four daughters – each new baby sister softer, sweeter, and easier to adore than the last. Our youngest especially — His perfect little photocopy. His face. His charm. His tiny twin. Naturally, she was extra special.

And slowly, I faded. Or at least, that was how it felt in my sensitive child-heart.

Daddy was not unloving. He was a doting father, a devoted husband, a public servant, and a humble man of great integrity and virtues. But his love language was teasing — playful, lighthearted. And I, with my tender personality and quiet insecurities, received those jokes differently.

When I grew into a pudgy preteen, the teasing started — “baboy” — words that felt light to him but heavy to me. Words that followed me far longer than he ever intended.

I didn’t know then that my heart was wired to feel things more intensely — without language for it, without understanding. Dad meant affection; I felt ache. Neither of us were wrong. We just spoke love differently. We didn’t match languages yet — but we do now.

So I strived. Achieved. Excelled. Because excellence was the only way I knew how to ask for love.

But ache without guidance turns into rebellion. By my teen years, I hardened.

I pushed others away because I felt unseen. I rejected because I felt rejected. I lashed out — even called him “fuckface” a few times — anger revealing the depth of my longing.

Then life took me abroad for university. Distance became my shield. Or so I thought.

I thought atheism was freedom. Activism felt like identity. And independence became my armour.

But God — quietly, steadily — was already writing restoration.

What I didn’t know was that in 2004, the very year I left the UAE, Couples for Christ entered our home. The Holy Spirit began reshaping my parents’ hearts. And one day, home on break, I overheard Daddy telling someone how he was so proud of me.

I dismissed it then, assuming it was just small talk. I didn’t know it was grace that had already begun its work.

And then came the moment that rewrote everything.

A simple call.

A casual “kumusta ka.”

And before hanging up, Daddy said:

“I love you.”

Three quiet words.

But to a daughter who hadn’t heard them in so long, they felt like rescue.

A rope thrown into deep waters. A hand pulling me toward the surface.

After that call, I cried for hours — without knowing why. 

In my diary, I wrote, “I don’t know why this made me cry.”

Now I know.

Because love, when it finally touches the part of you that needed it most,

undoes you in ways only God can orchestrate.

Because healing begins long before you recognise it.

Because daughters never stop longing for their fathers — even when they pretend otherwise.

Daddy's renewal became my doorway back to God.

The same community that transformed him — Couples for Christ — became the path that led me to Singles for Christ, where I eventually met my future brother-in-law and my future husband.

Grace is a circle. It always finds its way home.

Today, Daddy is a renewed man:

✨ humble

✨ prayerful

✨ deeply loving

✨ steady and faithful

✨ a man of integrity and service

✨ a father whose heart has been softened, deepened, made whole

One of the things I treasure most about him now is this:

After retiring, he began a YouTube channel — not for fame, not for views, but as a gift for his grandchildren.

A place where, one day, even when he is no longer with us, they can still

hear his voice, feel his tenderness,

and be wrapped in the love behind every song.

A legacy of melody. A legacy of presence. A legacy of love.

And in many ways… I’ve grown into the kind of heart he has now.

Grounded. Gentle. Creative.

Expressing love through words, as he expresses love through music.

But perhaps my greatest treasure is this: his relationship with my husband

and the way he loves my daughters.

The safest, softest, most joyful Lolo.

The best father-in-law.

A calm presence.

A man my children adore.

Daddy Dearest, I see you.

I honour you.

I love you deeply.

And proud akong Bonifacio.

Proud to carry your name.

Proud of where I come from.

Proud of the humility, strength, and goodness you passed on.

Proud of the man you've become – and the man you are today.

Salamat sa Diyos sa buhay mo — at sa pagbabagong hinubog ng Kanyang Espiritu sa puso mo.

Our story is grace upon grace.

Daddy, you are worth celebrating every day — lalo na today, on your birthday.

I love you with a full, healed, grateful heart. Happy birthday, Daddy!