I grew up in awe of my father.
As a kid, I am especially fond of memories of flying in a plane with him as the pilot. There’s a special kind of delight that comes from knowing that my father is bringing us and everyone aboard to our destination, all safe and sound.
Two weeks from when I made this recording, my father passed away due to an unexpected massive heart attack. He was 73. While it came us a shock to all of us, we accept and know that his destination is God’s hands now where he is safe and sound.
I’m sharing the eulogy I wrote for his funeral mass to let everyone know how proud I am of my dad. If you are listening or reading this, all I ask is for you to please say a little prayer for him.
A Tribute to Capt. Percy de Leon
I stand before you today as the representative of a family still in shock and in grief.
Capitan Percy was a truly remarkable human being…
Husband to Mercy, father to Ayen, Bamm-bamm, Che-che and Dimples, son to Jose and Marciana, brother to Denty and Nimfa, grandfather to Jake, Kyla, Colin, Nadine and Caleb, friend and inspiration to many many people.
Like most sons to their fathers, I have always looked up to him and was (and always will be) very, very proud of him and his accomplishments.
This was especially true while I was growing up.
I would always find myself telling my classmates, friends and anyone I knew that my dad is a pilot.
In fact, I still do that today.
I relish that reaction from people when I tell them…
”My dad is an airline pilot and he is a captain at Philippine Airlines.”
And they say, “Wow, your Dad is a Pilot!”
“You’re so lucky!”
I remember the many happy times we spent with him, Daddy bringing us with him to his trips abroad.
We’d spend our summer breaks in Honolulu, San Diego, Los Angeles, San Francisco and I once even spent Christmas with him, just the two of us, in Chicago.
And during those times, with Dad as the Captain, I saw how everyone — the crew, the passengers and the people around him — loved, respected and admired him.
I saw how everyone’s eyes lit up whenever they see him.
And I always told myself:
“When I grow up, I want to be just like Daddy.”
I wanted to have many, many friends too and gain the respect and recognition of my peers.
I wanted their eyes to light up when they see me.
I wanted to be just like Daddy.
During those flights, my most awaited part is when a few minutes after take off, Daddy spoke on the intercom…
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking….”
I wanted to shout out loud to the top of my lungs:
“That’s my Daddy! That’s my Daddy!”
Years later I will find out that Daddy was actually a shy person and shunned the limelight.
It must have been a big undertaking for him to speak to hundreds of passengers.
And then my favorite part, especially during those long haul flights, was when he would come out from the cockpit to check on me.
He had to put on a coat to cover his pilot’s uniform and take off his hat, so that passengers would not panic, thinking that nobody was flying the aircraft (it was on autopilot, of course).
Then, he will take me by the hand and bring me inside the cockpit and have me sit behind him while he lands the aircraft in the most perfect and safest landings you’ll ever experience in your life.
Passengers will even applaud him for those perfect landings — a gesture to thank Daddy for keeping them safe, comfortable and alive throughout the journey.
Again, I wanted to shout to the world:
“That’s my Daddy! That’s my Daddy!”
Then before leaving the plane, he would pick us up from our seats, now in his full pilot gear, and in his total handsomeness tell us:
“Let’s go!”
And then I would walk proudly, people staring at us and gushing…
“Siya ba yung pilot natin? Ang gwapo! Lodi!”
And with my head held up high, I would say to myself:
“This is my Daddy! This is my Daddy!”
“I am the son of Capt. De Leon”
And, even as Daddy retired from the airline industry after 30 plus years of loyal service…Daddy, in fact, never took off his Captain’s hat.
How can you tell?
Well, he frequented a different kind of cockpit — not the cockpits of Boeing 747s…
But the cockpits of Roligon and Elorde during derby time.
Kidding aside, my Daddy never retired.
Daddy was still The Captain to the workers of his business, The Captain to his buddies and Sabong-mates…
And of course, he was The Captain to the de Leon family.
We, the kids, in fact call ourselves “The Pacundos” — his childhood nickname that I believe he doesn’t like (sorry dad)
As the Captain of the Pacundos, Daddy took care of everyone — us, his kids, his grand kids – who he truly adores, and of course – the love of his life – Mama.
I don’t think it’s a coincidence that their names Mercy and Percy, rhyme.
What do you think?
Percy-Mercy. Mercy-Percy.
Talo pa ang JaDine.
They are a perfect match.
Mama is the love of his life.
I don’t have enough time to talk about their many decades of happy moments that we will always treasure.
Except for the moment last Christmas during our annual family photo taking, when he almost planted a Vic Sotto kiss on Mama’s lips — which caught everone by surprise and made us all laughing hysterically and kilig at the same time.
With all those happy memories, it is truly difficult to imagine him not being around…
…and I’m not sure how we will all cope.
Dad lived a long and happy life, and only succumbed to ill health right at the very end.
As we gather here today to remember and commemorate his life, let us bid him farewell as we mourn the loss of a lively, dignified soul.
A soul that brought joy and fulfilment to many, and whose legacy will live on forever.
I will see you again, Daddy.
I would like to end this speech by shouting proudly:
“That’s my Daddy! That’s my Daddy!”
