To my ‘Dader’

DOPPELGANGER “Dader” Albert Villarosa and daughter Salve —CONTRIBUTED PHOTOS

When my dad joined our Creator on May 3, my first thought was, “But Dad, you were supposed to walk me down the aisle this November.”

Publicly, Alberto “Abet” Villarosa was known as Security Bank chair and a devout Catholic who served as a Knight Commander of The Equestrian Order of the Holy Sepulchre. But I’d like to think that his most important role was one that only two people in the world—my brother and I—had the privilege of knowing him as: our Dad. We have, and will continue to be proud of many things in our lives, I’m sure, but we have always been proudest to be Abet’s kids.

When I was 9, a movie called First Daughter came out where Katie Holmes played Sam, the daughter of the President of the United States of America. This was around the time “Dader” assumed the role of Security Bank president. I must have watched that movie a hundred times, because I would tell people it was my movie—my nickname was Sam, and I too, was a president’s daughter.

When I was 16 and obsessed with fantasy novels, I delighted to tell my classmates that I had to miss school for a day, because my Dad was being knighted, and as a knight of the Order of the Holy Sepulchre, you could technically refer to him as Don Alberto (a title he never actually used).

President, chair, Knight Commander, there will be no more new fancy titles to share with people—unless it’s a forthcoming beatification, which, honestly, may not seem all that far-fetched for someone our church friends lovingly called “Bishop Abet.”

But what remains is more important than any title, and it is this that I now share with you, dear reader.

Dad was a great father and husband who put family above all else; who paid the same attention to an urgent matter at work as he did his children’s fancies; who made us feel special just getting to be his kids.

We had a lot of conversations earlier this year about how I wanted to achieve something as big with my life as he had done with his, so I could deserve my role as “anak ni Abet.” But all he said was that kuya and I were his kids and that was the end of it. There was no challenge we had to meet, no success we had to achieve, to earn his love and support. It was his job to take care of us and no matter what, that love and support would always be there.

He loved to say that our mom was the wind beneath his wings, but to his kids, he was more like an air traffic control tower. We could take off, explore the skies to our hearts’ content and go as far as our limitations would let us, knowing that if things ever got too frightening, all we had to do was call in and he would make sure we’d find our way back to safety, back to Dad.

So, instead of mourning all the things Dad will miss out on in the future, I will choose to remember how much he was there for us in the past.

Gentle being

Like any young girl growing up in the 2000s, I loved playing pop star and holding imaginary concerts in my room. Dad walked in once and naturally, I burst into tears from embarrassment. He said there was no reason to be embarrassed, because at my age, he was doing the same thing—except that instead of concerts, he was pretending to be a priest celebrating mass in his bedroom.

I loved turning to him for advice because boy, did he give the best advice! It didn’t matter if the problem was an everyday trifle, or a monumental decision to be made. He addressed every problem with utter seriousness and most of the time, his reply came in the form of a three-paragraph speech, even when all I asked was, “Dad, I just wanted to ask if it was worth it to add another class to my load this semester.”

He was never violent or raised his voice, except on three occasions:

1. When I was 10, our family visited Disney World. I kissed him on the cheek before scampering off toward a ride and the man sitting next to him said, “What a sweet granddaughter you have.”

2. When he didn’t get the daily Wordle (or its spinoff games Quordle, Octordle and Phrazle) in time. He followed those games with a religious fervor, even switching his phone to the earliest possible time zone so he could solve them ASAP.

3. And lastly, the only time he would ever be sharp with us kids was if we began an argument with Mom. As much as he loved us, she was his first priority and his love above all.

Walk down the ‘aisle’

Dad was adorably invested in wedding planning, much to my and my fiancé’s delight. I would text him full play-by-plays of the wedding dress hunt and when I asked if he was ready to see photos, he replied, “Wait, let me take tranquilizers first.” Looking at our Viber chat now fills my heart with joy, because I’d forgotten that I was able to send him my final choice. Even if it’s not exactly how I imagined it, he was able to see me in my wedding dress.

People have asked my fiancé and I if we plan to push through with the wedding this year. How could we not? Dad had a hand in every last detail. Going through with the original plans will be the best way to honor him and have him be a part of our big day.

All my life, I’d been told that I looked exactly like my dad. Growing up, I resented this—what little girl wants to hear that she looks like an older man? But now, I consider it a gift, another little piece of him that I can keep with me. Someone paying their condolences said that I looked unnervingly like him. But that was good, because maybe one of my children would turn out to look like their Lolo Abet.

So, while he won’t be physically walking me down the aisle in November, I know that Dad will be walking beside me and our family for the rest of our lives. With everything he had done and been for us—what is missing one walk down the aisle compared to all of that?

I’d been based in Los Angeles these last two years, and every night, we would FaceTime so Dad could virtually “tuck me in.” I’d get home late more often than not and every time, without fail, he’d say, “Oh! Late na! Sleep na, you rest na!”—like I was an 8-year-old with a strict bedtime instead of a 28-year-old who was about to get married. Last May 10, I walked with my Dad down a very different aisle while You Raise Me Up played, our top contender for our father-daughter dance. That day, it was my turn to tuck him in one last time, and say, “Sleep na, Dad. Rest na.” —Contributed

United States-based Salve Villarosa currently works in the theater industry, both behind-the-scenes in marketing and public relations, as well as onstage as a performer. She graduated magna cum laude from Loyola Marymount University in California, majoring in Theater Arts with a minor in Classics and Archaeology.

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