I know your mistakes and you know mine And while you’re sleeping I’ll try to make you proud. “Monsters”, James Blunt

Dad seems an appropriate topic to start. I don’t want to treat this as another obituary or eulogy – that seems way to formal for this space. But the basics do matter.

So, who was Dad?

• Marvin Viloria Vilar
• Born in Manila, Philippines, June 29, 1974
• Immigrated to the US in the 90s
• Married for 51 years
• Girl dad to Two
• Work ethic of a work horse
• Leader and Mentor
• Jesus Follower
• Ping Pong Champion
• Golf enthusiast
• Karaoke King
• A Diabetic
• Chronic Kidney Disease
• Toe Amputee

This is who Dad was and more in his 50 years of life on this earth. 50 years is nearly not enough time at all. Dad was only 20 years older than me. I feel as if I haven’t achieved as much as he did when he was my age. I also feel he had so much more to give, live for, and wait for.

What did Dad mean to me? Everything.

Dad was my twin in every single way. We shared the same looks, mannerisms, and work ethic. Our learning styles, sensitivity, and stubbornness mirrored each other. We even had the same birth mark. My earliest memory of Dad is from when I was a toddler. I remember laying in bed with him as he talked to me and played with me. I remember him taking me to his work at the hospital. We went on Costco errand trips for the bakery, Golfland visits, and family road trips. We also had one hour photo shoots, field trips, and McDonald’s drive thru runs. He was always there when it mattered. Being the only child and grandchild for the first 10 years of my life was significant to me. It really mattered.

As a teenager, I went through the “boy crazy” phase. Dad constantly reminded me that “no one will ever be as good as daddy is” in every aspect. Dad was there as I became an early adult. He helped me learn the life lessons I needed. He was also my main cheerleader through my milestones. Now it wasn’t always picture perfect, there were definitely moments of hurt with dad… but I will always be thankful for the time we got to sit on the couch and talk as adults. I was able tell him how he made me feel in those moments. He listened to me acknowledge my hurt. He also shared his own failings and lessons he was presently learning about himself.

I was truly blessed to have Dad all throughout the time I was given with him.

At present, I am circling back and forth between the cycles of sadness and anger when it comes to Dad. [By the way, I have come to accept that there are no stages of grief, there are cycles. Stages are supposed to end and move on at some point but cycles start, end, and intersect at varying points. Grief never truly ends and these cycles will continue to stay with me until I am no more.] If I were to pinpoint on why I am so hyper-fixed on these two emotions I think it is this:

• I am sad that within the span of 3 months, I have experienced drastic changes. I went from seeing my dad give me and my husband his wedding speech to planning his memorial service.
• I am angry that I have no more time with him. I only have my memories. They help me deal with the aching hole in my heart.

As I think about the last few years of Dad’s life, I realized he was saying “goodbye” to me. He did it in his own way. He did this every single chance that we spoke. If his passing were to happen any time sooner than it did I believe I would be an inconsolable mess. Me and time have a weird relationship. You see, I have a control issue. I believe that certain things should happen at certain times. If it doesn’t happen at the exact planned times, well then I get upset…. anybody else feel that way? Just me? Got it, I’m working on it. Promise.

All that to say, I have wished/begged/prayed/pleaded for more time for dad. Time for at least another hug, kiss, laugh, FaceTime call, joke… anything. I didn’t get enough time. And as I sit here crying again for not getting enough time with Dad… the events leading up to Dad’s passing just dictated that it was indeed his time.

As I navigate this sadness and anger cycle, I am also reminded of the love Dad had given to me throughout my childhood, teens, and young adult chapters. It’s that love that I carry with me in the hope of sharing it with someone, anyone, on this healing journey.

Andrew Garfield said it best, “I hope this grief stays with me. It represents all the unexpressed love that I didn’t get to tell her.” There is hurt and hope. There is anger and joy. Sadness and love work together within to remind me that there is still good to look ahead to. There is still something to keep living for.

Dad, I miss you. I love you. I’m trying. Thank you. This one is for you.

In Loving Memory of Marvin Vilar (1974-2025)