My uncle Ralph is my dad’s brother, and my aunt Cora is his wife. They’ve been married for 56 years, according to Aunt Cora, and they are my prime example for a good, longtime, working relationship. I love them dearly. Without them, I would be so out of touch with the family. I hold them in such high regard, as if they were my parents. I even stayed with them one summer in San Francisco, where I went to summer school, when summer ended, I didn’t want to leave. Whenever I can remember to call early enough I do, I write them, and send them postcards from wherever I travel to.

It was actually Aunt Cora who suggested I write about my dad. She suggested this about 4 years ago.

I just got off the phone with them, I was on the call with them for 2 hours. I miss them so much.

Aunt Cora told me that though my dad was funny, he made children cry. His humour was so harsh, children had no retort but to cry. He would mean it as a joke, but it would still a bit mean.

I wonder if he did this to any of my cousins. (Uncle Ralph and Aunt Cora’s kids).

They said they’re coming to LA in a few weeks, and Aunt Cora says that Uncle Ralph still remembers a lot, so hopefully I’ll have more when I get to catch up with them.

I’ve requested some information from various family members. But I’m trying to do it one at a time. I wanted to see my cousin Joann in New Jersey when we were in New York in December, but we had obligations and couldn’t get away prior to Xmas, and then the blizzard basically froze us still the day after Xmas.

Joann wrote, “PS I did ask my mom about your Dad and she feels [our aunt Conception] has a better perspective of his adult life since she was still in the Philippines and my mom was in The States.”

“As a boy fun and mischievous.”

So, I wasn’t really given much. I told her that this aunt she suggested I speak to hasn’t spoken to me in years. Conception’s daughter Marie basically banished me from her family over $75, but that is another story for another time. I did ask her again, if she could tell me anything of her memories, or if her mother could give me anything, any kind of memory from their childhood. It didn’t have to be big, just anything. I can’t force them to help me of course. And, yes - I do feel a little bit like they can’t be bothered to write - which I can respect. They have their own lives, and this takes up time, remembering someone who’s been dead for nearly 30 years.

It’s hard reaching out to family, you know? I am not very close to anyone I’m related to. My mother didn’t really keep us close, and I do get scared writing my dad’s family. I don’t know what they think of me, and I’m afraid of their rejection. It’s okay that no one really wants to know me, I’ve not asked for anything much from them. I don’t try very hard to keep touch. Some don’t even know what my real name is. They just call me Apple. They certainly don’t know when my birthday is. So, yeah I’m sure it’s strange that I am reaching out to them with this request.

Family, if you’re reading this. I know you don’t owe me anything. I wish you all the best, all the love, and all the goodness life has to offer. Period. Whether you can help me or not.

Thanks to this handy-dandy search engine I have discovered that my paternal grandmother’s name was Felisa Lago Ramos. She was born in 1899 and died in 1955.

She married my paternal grandfather, Federico Tabora, Sr. in 1920. He was born in 1895.

Felisa’s father’s name was Placido Lago Ramos. He was born in 1844, Married in 1870, and died in 1946. Her mom was Natividad Edralin, born in  1845, married 1870, and died Nov. 3 1943.

It goes on to list my paternal grandmother’s siblings. My question is - why did I find all this on “An official Web site of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints” ? I thought they were Catholic?

I remembered correctly. My cousin Cheryl’s mother is Neolida. Neolida is my dad’s older sister. According to Cheryl this is their brood in age order:

• Gerino who is the oldest
• Rafael - my favorite Uncle Ralph who lives in San Francisco
• Neolida - Cheryl’s mom
• (then your dad)
• Imelda - my aunt who lives in Cherry Hill, NJ right outside of Philly
• Concepcion who lives somewhere here in Southern California
• Paquito is the youngest in the family, I am told he lives in Texas

Our grandma’s name is Feliza & our grandpa’s name is Federico thus your dad is Federico Junior.

I never knew my dad’s youngest brother’s name. Come to think of it, I really didn’t know the oldest brother’s name either. Obviously, I asked Cheryl to ask her mother to send me something about my dad. This was more than I could ask for. She touched upon his childhood!

My mom said that your dad loved making toy trucks as a boy. That’s probably why when he grew up, he started a trucking business. Did you know you used to own a boat that traveled internationally to Japan?! it was named after you… “Celeste”

Your family used to own a house in Magallanes Village, one of the posh villages in Manila. (Meaning mostly the rich live there.) And you used to go to an exclusive school for girls during your toddler years. They would usually throw big parties during your birthday!! Your dad would always order the biggest two to three layered cake - that was indeed too much for a child, hahaha!! We used to sleep over at your house during weekend. They also had a house at PhilAm Village where in front of it was the village swimming pool and we used to go swimming there. =)

She then went on to tell me that he used to have his own private plane. Which I knew, for it was the one that crashed that killed him and three others - the pilot, co-pilot, and mechanic. I’ve been told that I was supposed to be on that plane ride with him. I plan to ask next whether or not this is true or a romanticized story that developed after his death.

Cheryl mentions swimming a lot, and I’m beginning to understand that swimming might be a big part of the Filipino lifestyle? I really don’t like pools, but can sit in a little hot tub for a little while until I begin to think of it become “me soup.” However, I am a big fan of baths, but from what I’ve learned that’s more of a Japanese cultural thing.

I think it’s really great that my cousins got to experience all these fancy things, I don’t remember much. And by the time my brother was born, my dad passed - and he was unable to experience any private planes, exclusive private schools, or any boats traveling international waters.

Ever since I started researching things about my father, every. single. emotional. exchange in commercials or television or movies really have me fighting back the tears… Especially when it’s about a personal struggle, overcoming social hurdles, coming up in the world, unfortunate children, or abandoned pets. What does it mean?

My cousin Cheryl lives in Adelaide, Australia with her mom, my father’s sister. She is older than me, I don’t remember by how much - but I think she was old enough to take care of me before my dad passed away, so I figured she might have some recollections. So I asked her to write me a little something, anything, about my father.

To my delight, she wrote me back almost immediately:

About your dad… for one, we have the same birthday! So when I was a child, my birthdays were mostly spent at your place since your dad would almost always have a big birthday party celebration! Your dad loved family outings! He would always bring all his nephews and nieces to go swimming at Laguna Hotsprings. He was the kind of guy who loves his family and loves having them around him. That is why his brother (our uncle) used to work for your dad… And your dad loved expensive cars! You used to have lots of them!

I knew about his affinity for luxury vehicles. From what I remember, the majority of them were made by Mercedes-Benz. This is probably the reason why these, especially the vintage coupe versions, are my favorites.

The picture people painted for me of my dad never seemed like he was the type to throw himself huge parties though. Like I’ve said before, they described him as serious as his suits. It’s nice to know he was a family oriented man.

I’m sure my dad kept his nieces and nephews around him so much because my parents had trouble conceiving. They were married 11 years before I was born. (And then another 6 years before my brother turned up.) My mother miscarried a few times, and I know they both desperately wanted children. 11 years of waiting, and you end up with me. Haha!

Forty-eight days ago I was working on my company’s activations at CMJ Music Marathon at full speed. Any kind of interruption was an annoyance that I tried to shoo away as soon as possible to get back into the task(s) at hand.

Then I got a message from Mr. Mendoza via a social networking site I am a member of:

I’m trying to get in touch with my friend and I thought that maybe you are related to him. I remember that he has a brother Federico, married to Dreamy, who has a daughter named Apple or Celeste.
If you are the daughter of Mr. Federico Tabora Jr., I’ve worked for your father before. Please reply.
Thanks a lot!

I had to read it a few times. Were these gmail spam messages infiltrating this social networking site? Where’s the part where he tells me, “Your Email Id has won £1,000,000.00. in the End of Year British Tobacco Promo.”

It finally sunk in. A part of my life I identify as a dream (27 years ago, c’mon what do you recall?) was a reality to someone.

My father’s brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews have told me things about my father through the years, but I didn’t really inquire. I suppose I’ve just always accepted it: My dad is gone. He’s dead. I’m not going to know him the way other people know their dads. And I’m okay with it. It is what it is.

In some ways, I feel like a lot of the things that relatives have told me through the years have diluted my actual, real memories of my father. But this I know: one taste of Mango Ice Cream (his favorite) and I’m 5 years old again, watching some animated film with my dad.

After some hesitance, I wrote Mr. Mendoza back. I informed him that I don’t really know my dad’s brother whom he was looking for. I sent him the info of my paternal cousins who had recently found me on the social networking site, and said they might be of some help and I wished him luck. (After my dad passed away, my mother distanced herself from my father’s family. According to her, they were gossipy and mean, and therefore unnecessary.)

I did one last thing: I asked this total stranger, whose face I’ve never seen, what my father was like. I reminded him that I was quite young when my dad passed, told him what I’ve heard a lot - that I get my business savvy from this man. And asked for any insight he could give me.

It took him about a week, but he wrote me back:

Thank you very much for the prompt reply, Celeste! Well, I did work for your dad for 6 years as a bookkeeper of his companies, until two months after he passed away when your mom closed both companies. I remember him as a good employer and as having a very good sense of humour. Often times, when he had no out-of-office meetings in the afternoons he would come out from his office and talk to the employees and would crack jokes. Usually, he also ate his lunch with us employees at the lounge or meeting room, and so with your mom if she was in the office. They’re both nice people! And lastly, I could say, your dad is a hands-on executive and a self-made millionaire. It’s true that your dad was unable to train you in business but certainly you got his good business acumen genes.
I have to go now and have a great evening!

I got this on Sunday night; I was alone, my fiancé Chad was out working a show. I read it without taking a breath. It was like each of these words were a brick coming down on me. I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t want to be alone, but I am glad that I read it alone. I wanted a hug. I looked at the dog, she wasn’t in a hugging mood.

It makes me glad to know that my father ran a corporation and yet sat and ate with his employees. Does Steve Jobs do that? Just wondering.

The thing that touched me the most is knowing that my dad was a comedian. I never knew. All I ever saw were pictures of his demure smile, dressed in business suits, tipped with nice shoes, and usually had a briefcase in hand. He didn’t look funny.

It didn’t all start when I got this social network site message from a stranger. I’ve always wondered. All my life I’ve been compared to him, this man I don’t know.

“You’re just like him,” they’d insist. I guess I can somewhat see that. My nose and his are only slightly differing, but I don’t have his receding hair-line… Not yet anyway. I look at the pictures of him, and we have the same closed-mouth, demure smile. I’ve either stared for so long, for so many years… Or it’s a genetic disposition. Genetics are all I have to compare to.

It’s when they say that I got my business savvy from him, that I truly roll my eyes. So a man that was consistently taking his family abroad on business trips, always in meetings, always in a suit… They are trying to tell me that it’s not what I picked up in the last 27 years since he died… it’s what I learned in the first 6 years of my life that shaped me.  Studies show that they might be right; The first five years of a child’s life really builds the foundation for the rest of their lives.

My father passed away when I was almost 7 years old. He was 44.

It’s suffice to say that I don’t know the guy. Well, I know a few things. He liked Dean Martin and Perry Como. He loved his cars. He ran two companies, that he started from the ground up. (And he failed at his first venture.) But I’ve always wondered: What was he like? What did he smell like? What was his favorite food? What was his favorite movie?

But I’ve never asked anyone who knew him. Not really.