I remember during the first few days of my Muay Thai training, my trainer made some comments about my natural fighting stance, how it's easy for a beginner like me to learn the roundhouse kick, and how good I was at throwing punches (the uppercut was quite a challenge though). It was my very first martial arts training. But decades ago, I had informal lessons with my uncle Vic.

I think that's one of the many things he did for me that I was so grateful for.

He was the one who taught me how to defend and stand up for myself. Probably the reason why I was never bullied despite having this payatot, bullyable physique. I mean, they tried. But they only ended up with a bloody nose and never messed with me again.

And until this very day, nobody could bully me. Except my kids. 😅

With my uncle Vic. Circa 1995

Earlier today, we escorted my uncle to his final resting place. And for the first time, I witnessed a 21-gun salute. 

He was a policeman. And even though he did not die in the line of duty where he would have been officially hailed a hero, the things he did were noble. 

He was a simple man who lived a simple life. He did not have much to give. But he was generous. Whatever he had, he gladly shared without expecting anything in return. He would always give help without hesitation. He assumed responsibilities not meant for him, like becoming a father to his brothers and sisters-in-law, and to nephews and nieces who do not share the same blood with him. He was one of the most selfless and kindest people I know. 

To us, everyone close to him, and everyone he served on or off duty, he is a hero.

I will surely miss him and his cooking, especially his sisig and dinuguan.