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Father's Day: A Personal Story

Today is Father's Day. And since I'm in the United States with no way of giving my father a gift, let me just share this story...

I was about 4 or 5 years old. The entire clan was in Pansol, Laguna, for a swimming party because my lola (grandmother) had come home from Canada, along with some of my father's siblings.

I still remember very clearly that I saw my lola floating in the middle of one of the pools with my cousins. I wanted to join them. And so, I started walking toward them. I entered the pool and continued walking. Pretty soon, I could see my lola's legs from under the water. And that's the last thing I remember.

The next thing I knew, I was in a hospital. It would be many years before I fully understood what happened. But the short story is that I drowned. Not almost drowned—drowned. I wasn't breathing. I was blue. I was dead.

The lifeguard noticed that I wasn't moving under the water and got me out. But he didn't know how to administer CPR. It's a good thing my dad knew how. That's how my father literally breathed life into me. And I never really thanked him for it.

This post is my Father's Day gift for my dad. But he's given me so much more.

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