It’s been one month since Dad passed away—and both of us feel like we've aged 20 years.  Since the website’s been launched, Vix and I have returned to work, we have welcomed a new family member (my husband’s new nephew: Ajax Campos-Flores!), we have continued planning our father’s memorial, we have started crossing items off our to-do lists again... and we have been deeply, deeply touched by the friends, both near and far, who have reached out and extended the kindness and love that has helped us find the faith and strength to keep moving, in the face of everything since our father’s death. 

No question: we are tired.  We’ve had a good number of moments (and days), when we’ve been plagued with impatience… doubts… anger… sorrow.  But, amazingly, we haven’t been broken.  Although we haven’t been able to reply to everyone personally, the words our friends have sent, the prayers they have spoken with and for us, and the memories of our father that they have shared, have really—each and every one—helped replenish our souls, and reminded us that, in spite of our present circumstances, we are blessed.  Blessed to be a part of so many “second-families” in San Diego and San Francisco; blessed to have had two magnificent parents, for over thirty years; and blessed (even if it's in a mixed way) to now have a matchless opportunity to show everyone just what kind of women our parents made us, through the strength, endurance, and commitment to justice we are determined to hang onto, no matter what.

So, for Dad’s one-month anniversary, we want to (finally) extend a heartfelt thank-you to everyone who has written us/ called us/ prayed with us.  And we are posting some of the Dad-memories and encouragement we have received-- that have made us smile, cry, laugh, and, most of all, have helped carry us through the past 31 days.  We've begun posting them on this new page, "Dad Stories". 

Thank you, everyone.

And thank you, Dad, for touching so many lives, in so many ways.

Decided to sleep in Dad's bed last night.  Couldn't rest, so I started poking around.  The room's clean-- but cluttered.  Dad was such a collector.  For some reason, I was drawn to this... laundry basket-- on top of his dresser.  So, I'm staring at it, and I notice this small, three-ringed photo album kinda thing.  Hmm.  I take it out, and begin looking through it:  a passport (?) photo of Dad when he was young, Dad's puppies in the Philippines, Dad with the gold-digger, Dad with Mom.  Then, a folded white sheet, tucked into one of the pages.  I take it out, unfold it, and start to read.  It's a Quit-Claim for our house.

When Vicky and I were stressed out about Dad over this woman in the Philippines, we begged him: just don't marry her.  He reassured us: no matter what happens, I promise you will be okay; I will take care of you.  Even during the first hell-ish days in the Philippines, I believed this.  But I have to admit, after his own brother let us down, and M ignored Dad's written will and had him cremated, then took all of Dad's ashes; and after the funeral home fought with us over obtaining documents relating to Dad... I started to think, There's just no sense in this, whatsoever.  Dad might have tried, but maybe it wasn't enough.

I was wrong!  Dad left Vicky and I as beneficiaries to everything, but I was worried about the house.  Maybe that woman wouldn't ultimately be able to have any part of it; but could she try?  And make life hell (again) for us during some long, drawn-out, expensive dispute?  Well, the answer to that is NO.  Dad made M sign this document, and her mother's signature is on it as witness.  M legally renounced any and all rights to this house-- my mother's house, our family home.  Dad saw to it that she did.  He has been with us.  Lesson-learned:  I am still my parents' daughter, and they are not letting us go through this alone.

I had a dream last night.  Vicky and I were at the beach, well away from where the water should've come.  We'd layed down our towels, and I was watching the tide come in, when I realized it was going to keep coming-- it wasn't going to stop before reaching us.  So, we got caught in it-- a massive wave.  I remember seeing it above us, before it hit us, and being stunned that this was happening.  And scared.  But knowing what to do.  It was like surfing.  We'd have to paddle with it.  So, we survived that....  But then, after we re-situated ourselves on a kinda-cliff, another enormous wave came and got us.  And I remember thinking:  We can survive this too, as long as we can breathe.  And amazingly, everytime I needed to get a breath, I just craned my neck toward where I thought I could break the surface... and I found air.

No questions about why this dream came to me.  It's just what our waking lives have been:  non-stop worst-case-scenarios; and just when we think we might have gotten a break, something else threatens to drown us.  But most importantly:  There's a higher force out there, making sure that we always find air.  We will endure.

In about 15 minutes (?):  touchdown in LA.  So close to home.  We're empty-handed....  We couldn't even bring home the Report of Death from the Embassy, because we didn't have original or true certified copies of our birth certificates, to show evidence of our relationship to Dad.  This week has been a long one, and a nightmare.

My parents are both gone now, but I haven't been able to totally mourn, or even register this in many ways, because I've been so stressed out about our situation.  In fact, everyday since the funeral (which feels so unreal), all that anyone's talked to Vicky and me about is the fucked up situation: What a maldita/ salbahe/ tarantado M is.  Nothing about our father, except to say he was crazy for trusting that devil-whore.

I've woken up between 3-5 am everyday, mind just racing:  What's that bitch up to?  How do we protect ourselves and our father?  How do we stop her greedy ass from further damaging our family?  For the past days, I've woken up with so much outrage....

But here's the deal:  Now we're on a mission.  I know my anger is a righteous one, and that what M has done is an injustice-- not just to Vix and me, but to my Dad.  So, I'm determined.  And I will be unrelenting.  I will do everything in my capacity to make sure that this woman cannot do this to another man, and that no other veteran's family will ever have to watch some gold-digger do this to their loved one.

5:30pm (Philippines)
So many thoughts.  So many reflective moments.  I don’t know where to begin – where it will end.  I have to admit my faith has strengthened while going through this.  We leave back to the US tomorrow.  I’m ready to go home, and be with my family.  Family- definitely a lesson to take away from all of this.

10:00pm
We got to see my Mom's side of the family today.  My cousins.  It was such an overwhelming feeling.  I felt like I was surrounded by family.  My cousins on my Mom’s side are so loving.  We went to the Mall of Asia to have dinner at the last place Evelyn, Dad, and I had dinner when we were in the Philippines in March.   As we all sat there, we told them the significance of this place – I started to cry, and my cousin Lilibeth, who was sitting next to me, grabbed me and hugged me.  I felt so safe.  I felt so loved. 

I told Evelyn, when we leave the Philippines, no matter what, we will leave with our heads held high, with dignity, and respect.  And that’s what we are doing.  We head home tomorrow, but we will return.  Our work is not done here yet.