This painting just popped up in my social media memories, and it hit me hard. 🥺 My Tatay made this before he had a stroke. He was such a gifted artist—his hands could bring life to a blank canvas. Meanwhile, I don’t know what happened to me because I definitely didn’t inherit that talent! Clearly, the talent skipped a generation.
But after the stroke, he lost the ability to move his right hand, and with it, the talent that had always been a part of him. Imagine that? The very thing that made him who he was… suddenly taken away. It broke my heart to see him struggle.
But Tatay wasn’t the kind of man to give up. He picked up a pencil with his left hand and started again. At first, all he could manage were shaky lines, barely in his control. It was frustrating, painful even. But he kept going. He practiced, over and over, until one day—after so many failed attempts—he did it. He completed a portrait using his left hand.
I wish I had taken a photo of that portrait, just to remind myself of what true resilience looks like. My Tatay was living proof that no matter what life takes from you, you can still rise. You can still fight. And you can still create beauty, even from brokenness.
Tay, I miss you so deeply. 😭 Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you and Nanay. 💔I pray that you’re at peace in heaven with Nanay, finally together again. I love you both so much. Your grandchildren have grown up so big na—you would have been so proud.
I hope you’re painting up there in heaven, Tatay—this time, with both hands, creating masterpieces beyond what we could ever imagine. 🎨🖼️🤍