Mr. Manuel Pilar

I have known Rene Pilar for about 21 years. And from the first we
met, we've argued. There might have been an unwritten agreement that
we would argue and fight and still be friends; that we we agreed to
disagree, again as friends. On and off, for the last two decades
we've met and discussed life. We've seen changes happen, and events
happen to us. Rene is an only child and I've treated him as an equal
and as a brother since we first met.

During that first year of acquaintance, I was introduced to Mr. Manuel
Pilar, Rene's father. A big guy with a gruff voice and a hearty
laugh. He grew up during the days when being from the province was
common enough. He became successful in his own right, as did the rest
of his siblings.

As I see how Rene grew up an only child yet level-headed, I can only
envy how the elder Mr. Pilar raised him. I cannot gather nor fathom
the internal musings of the older gentleman during the last ten years
or so. The only thing I can surmise is that there would have been a
good story to tell about whatever debate he had with himself regarding
his son and his life. Or that he was content with his decisions and
his life and thus would have been grateful that he had a son like
Rene.

I may be biased, being a friend of Rene. But then again, I can only
envy the elder Mr. Pilar for having a son like Rene. I hope that I
can raise my son in the same manner that Rene was raised.

Mr. Manuel Pilar died yesterday. From Rene's description of the
problems, it was a whole lot of complications. To say that he was not
well during the past year is an understatement. He had two cardiac
arrests/strokes during the past two years. That and other prior
health problems and hospitalizations.

Maybe it is a pity that Mr. Manuel Pilar had only one son. But then
again, maybe he saw Rene, was proud and was happy he had one, and that
was it.

As Rene described how his father behaved during last week, I think he
was happy with his life and with his son. And possibly, his last
thoughts were prayers for his son, and a smile for his dearly departed
wife who he would have missed for almost twenty years.

--andoy