How I wish I had more time with him!

As the Christmas season wraps us in a spirit of gratitude and reflection, my thoughts turn, as they often do, to the man whose spirit continues to shape my life: my father, Dr. Augusto Alvaro Iturralde.

I never really knew my father, who friends called Gus. I was just 10 years old when he died at 47 of an aneurysm, but not after having brain surgery and staying for almost a month in the hospital. This depleted our entire savings and insurance funds. We had a newly built home at the back of my grandmother’s house with a huge home loan to pay off. Mom sold off our car and took in boarders for a living since we lived in the university belt.

From a cosseted life, we were suddenly poor and had to make drastic changes in our lifestyle. To this day, I wonder how my widowed Spanish mom, Pilar Sacristan, just 32 years, with five young children aged 3 to 11 managed to bring us up and give us a good education. I marvel at her indomitable strength of spirit, and the sacrifices she endured far from her native land and her beloved siblings.

But this story is about my father. He was obviously loved and respected by his family, friends, and colleagues. A romantic, I know that he loved my mom deeply. He met her while studying for his doctorate in law at the Universidad Central de Madrid. She was then an apprentice, learning how to sew from Doña Maria, my dad’s landlady in Madrid. He was smitten by her beauty and ended his days of bachelorhood soon after he finished his doctorate.

Curious about him, I checked out his resume in Asia’s Who’s Who. Extremely intelligent, he seemed to collect honors upon honors throughout his education (i.e., grade school valedictorian at San Beda College, high school valedictorian at Far Eastern University, magna cum laude for associate in arts and bachelor of laws at FEU, summa cum laude for bachelor of arts at FEU, and sobresaliente for his doctor of laws at the Universidad Central de Madrid). He garnered the distinguished alumnus award for legal education and jurisprudence at FEU, the distinguished alumnus award for education at San Beda College, and a cultural medal from the Republic of China, among others.

A prolific writer and a linguist, he authored several publications in different languages. As consul of Monaco to the Philippines, my father would attend social and diplomatic events. I would stay up excitedly watching my parents prepare to go out. Standing 6 foot and 4 inches, my dad cut a tall and handsome figure in his coat tails as he escorted my beautiful mother in her terno.

Dad was vice president of Rico Life Insurance. Early on, he practiced law as a partner in his own firm with a dear friend, Emil Tuazon. He stopped practicing and turned to teaching, when a client who had run over a little girl reneged on a promise to take care of her financially after my dad successfully defended him in court. His heart was no longer in it.

An educator, dad taught law and arts at Manuel L. Quezon University, FEU, San Beda College, Ateneo, and the Asian Social Institute. Despite his being strict, his students loved him. He was also dean of the graduate school at MLQ, and a bar reviewer.

His interests were far-ranging, as he also taught mnemonics, hatha yoga, judo, weightlifting, tumbling, acupuncture and cautery, Chinese bone therapy, muscle control, and hypnotism. He dabbled in painting and poetry.

I remember a gentle giant who would talk in his deep voice to my mom at the dinner table. One who would bring us Sunday mornings to mass then to Luneta where we would run in the grass, ride the double-decked bus, licking our Dairy Queen ice cream, and holding on to our balloons. One who would bring us to Chinatown to the barbershop (yes, I had my hair cut at the barbershop, together with my brothers) and who would hold me by the neck (I guess, he was tall and I was short) while crossing the street.

One who patiently taught me how to use chopsticks so I could demonstrate this in my show and tell session in grade school. One who would sing “Lemon Tree” and “Que sera, sera” with gusto in the mornings while dressing for work. One who would tell us not to bother him while he practiced his yoga at the forbidden third floor. One whose strong yet gentle hands would give us healing massages whenever we were sick (there was a famous action movie star who cried like a baby in our living room while my father set his broken bones; dad gently chastised him saying his own children never cried when they were massaged). One who never spanked me even when I was being naughty. One who always made me feel secure and loved whenever he was around.

Truth is, no matter how famous or accomplished one’s father is, what a child treasures are the special moments spent together. Oh, how I wish we had more time together! I love you, Daddy! And I hope you’re proud of me and of the beautiful, strong family your love created.

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Maria Montserrat Iturralde-Hamlin, an accomplished writer, is founder and chair of Team Asia. She graduated from the College of the Holy Spirit, summa cum laude, and with high distinction from the Asia Institute of Management where she taught for a few years.