My grandfather was a strong man.
For most of his life, he had an uncanny number of manual labor jobs, from a wood chopper to a welder to a sailor in the Filipino navy, all so that his four daughters could live better lives than he had.
He moved to the U.S. a year before I was born, and he and my grandmother had a significant hand in my upbringing along with my parents.
Throughout my life, I've heard stories about his courage: how he took an axe to the shin and walked home after a day of work, or how he killed a boa constrictor that almost attacked his livestock. He taught me how to ride a bike, and I would always see him, tending his garden when I woke up every morning.
Although bed-ridden in the hospital for weeks and unable to speak, he held on until my grandmother could come to terms with the fact that he was dying.
He was a pillar of strength, an example to those around him.
Thank you, Grandpa, for your life. God, please allow me to cherish his memory until I see him again when You come.
Pablo I. Enero: July 14, 1925 – June 25, 2006