It was the summer of 1985.
It was more than a year when that great hero had been assasinated. Aquino's cold-blooded death stirred up so much passion, emotion and patriotism in the hearts of many.
It was already a 20-year dictatorship, plunder, killings, abuse and blatant corruption.

My father was a Union Leader and also a High Ranking Political Activist officer of one of the most reknown leftist group of the country. He was well-respected, well-known and hailed as one of the bravest people in the country. He was vulgar in his campaign against the tyranny of the long-term dictatorship of the government. He yearned for freedom and peace.

My mom was also a political activist. She supported my father all throughout his campaigns.
That was the reason why my father always received death threats way back those days. But instead of being afraid, my papa will just sarcastically smile to all of those threats, for he believed that:
"The Government should be the one AFRRAID of its own people, and not the other way around!"

But then, the terror of a FRIDAY THE THIRTEEN, came upon us, unexpectedly!

It was a Friday, 13th of March, year 1985, when a loud banging on the door wake up my folks. It was 3:17 am...

The banging was so hard, as if someone was forcing to wreck our door.
My folks were alarmed, but still, they stay calmed.

"Who's there?", my father asked with a deep-toned voice..

But the banging just continue. No one answered my father's question.
My folks began to slowly feel the fear...
As if, something worse was going to happen.

The banging continued, now, there's a huge voice that screamed, "OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR!"

My father told my mother to secure me.

I was just barely a little child, a little baby. So, my mom took me away from the crib, put a small handkerchief on my mouth to prevent the noise of my cry and so that they won't know where we were hiding. She went to a secret passage located underneath the kitchen's table, into the basement.

My mama saw my papa took a kitchen knife.

Even though terrified, he still muttered, "Who the hell are you?!! Don't you know what time is it?!!"

But then, the large banging continued...
The door was now near its wreckage!

My father was in trouble!!

He only held a kitchen knife...

Then..

No one knew what happened next.. Mama never saw it.. But he heard all the sullen noise inside our house, as if papa was put into a carnage!

My mom told me that she gripped me so hard that day...
She just heard that the banging had stopped, but she heard that my dear father was screaming in pain..

That was the most terrifying day of her life, she said.
She don't know what happened next..

She just cried..
And cried..
And cried..
Until she fell from a deep slumber while gripping me so hard on that dark basement with her hands, placed on her two ears, so she would not hear the noise, the agony and screams of pain from my father..

The moment she woke up from slumber, she was afraid to go up. As if traumatized.

When she had the courage to go up from the hidden basement we are staying, she saw no dead body.

She saw no blood..
She saw nothing but a totally wrecked door.

It was all clean.

And still up to this very day..
No one knew, how my father disappeared.

Maybe, some of our neighbor heard the noise or saw the killer/s..

But no one would dare to speak, for they were all afraid of the DICTATORIAL GOVERNMENT, and all of those behind it...

My mother told me this story, and told me: "Son, never ever forget the sacrifice that your father had made for the sake of this country."