In a world that never stops moving, it’s easy to forget the quiet strength that keeps it grounded. Not the kind that shouts, but the kind that shows up—every day, in every way.
Today’s fathers are no longer defined solely by what they provide, but by how they empower—through presence, patience, sacrifice, and purpose. They are protectors, teachers, nurturers, and builders—balancing duty and devotion across work, home, and community.
This Father’s Day, we honor that kind of power—the kind that doesn’t just light homes, but strengthens the lives within them. Because when fathers choose love over comfort, and presence over ease, they don’t just raise children–theyhey raise futures.
Fatherhood doesn’t always begin with the first cry of a newborn. Sometimes, it arrives quietly—later than expected, and not without pain—but when it does, it changes a man’s center of gravity.
There’s a quiet kind of strength in showing up—especially when it’s difficult. For Anthony Ortega, a Heavy Equipment Operator at AboitizPower subsidiary Therma South, Inc., becoming a father at 29 was unexpected, and it rewrote the trajectory of his life.
He hadn’t grown up imagining what kind of dad he would be. But when he first held his daughter, everything changed. He named her Antonette—after himself. “She carries my name,” he says, his voice swelling with pride. “That alone makes me want to be the best man I can be.”
Life, however, didn’t unfold the way he envisioned. While he was already working at AboitizPower and raising a young family, his relationship with his partner came to an end. It was a moment that hit him harder than expected.
“I thought I could carry the weight,” he says. “But after one long shift, I got on the company van and just cried. Tremendously. Quietly. I didn’t know where the pain would go.”
In that silence, he faced a choice: retreat or rise. He chose to rise. Instead of letting the sadness consume him, Anthony poured everything he had into his work and his role as a father. “I knew I couldn’t give up. I had to keep going. I had to become someone Antonette could be proud of.”
Antonette lives far from Anthony, but he makes it a point to visit her regularly. He doesn’t wait for special occasions—just any chance to remind her she’s never forgotten. In her early years, she struggled with questions and whispers from classmates, often bullied for not having her father around.
But everything changed one day when Anthony showed up at her school—still wearing his AboitizPower uniform.
“That day,” he remembers, “she ran to me, hugged me so tight, and introduced me to her friends like I was a hero. As if saying, ‘See? I have a dad. And he came for me.’”
That moment didn’t just change Antonette—it changed him. “It was the first time I truly felt seen—not just as a worker or provider, but as her father.”
He carries that moment with him everywhere—through long shifts, long drives, and quiet nights away from her.
“I may not be there every day,” he says, “but she will never feel abandoned. I want her to grow up knowing she was always worth the journey.”
Despite the physical distance, Anthony never allowed absence to mean invisibility. For him, fatherhood isn’t measured in hours spent at home, but in the unwavering decision to show up, to provide, and to love without pause or excuse. He may have come to fatherhood later than most expect—but he stayed.
Anthony’s story reminds us that fatherhood isn’t defined by perfect circumstances. It’s defined by the choice to stay, to show up, and to love–even when it’s hard.
For others, like Kim Harvey Jobo, fatherhood wasn’t something they lost—it was something they never imagined having at all.
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Kim Harvey Jobo, Security Senior Specialist at AboitizPower subsidiary Therma Visayas, Inc. (TVI), never imagined becoming a father.
Orphaned at just six years old, Kim was raised by his aunt Josephine—a quiet, strong woman who never raised her voice, never raised a hand, and never let him feel unloved.
“She taught me that love doesn’t have to hurt,” he recalls. “That you can raise someone with patience and presence instead of fear.”
But despite her care, growing up without parents left a gap in Kim’s heart—and his sense of identity. He couldn’t picture himself as a family man because he never really had one. Instead, he drifted through his younger years, quietly carrying the weight of that loss, turning to vices and distractions. “When you grow up with absence, you begin to think that’s all you’ll ever offer others.”
That belief stayed with him for years—until he moved to Cebu in 2016. There, he met Armalyn, a single mother with a gentle strength that reminded him of his aunt. She had a two-year-old daughter named Amanda, who took to Kim with surprising ease.
“I didn’t expect to feel anything,” he says. “But the first time Amanda reached for my hand, something clicked. It felt like a door inside me opened. For the first time, I didn’t feel like I was missing something—I felt like I could give.”
In loving Armalyn and Amanda, Kim found a version of family he never thought he deserved. He didn’t just fall into the role of a father—he chose it. He and Armalyn began the process of adopting Amanda, not out of obligation, but out of a love that felt real, rooted, and right.
“She may not have come from me,” Kim says, “but she feels like a part of me. And I want her to grow up never wondering if she was enough.”
Since then, their family has grown: Arky Veni, now nearly six, and baby Arc Kiara, just six months old, have joined the household. But with joy came new challenges. Working in Toledo while his family remainde in Cebu meant Kim saw them only on weekends–sometimes less. “It started to feel like I was doing everything for them, but not with them.”
The wake-up call came on an ordinary day, when Amanda asked for help with her homework. Kim, overwhelmed with work, showed her his packed calendar. Her response cut through him like a blade: “Where do I fit in your schedule, Papa?”
“That moment broke me,” he says quietly. “I had worked so hard to become a father— yet I was slowly becoming absent in the one way that mattered most.”
He made a promise to change–to be present, not just physically, but emotionally. He now seeks feedback from his wife and makes time for unstructured, affectionate moments with his children. He credits AboitizPower for supporting that growth, especially the understanding by his team leader when family needed to come first.
“It’s not just about work-life balance,” Kim shares. “It’s about being reminded that your role as a father matters just as much as your role in the plant.”
Today, Kim is no longer haunted by the family he lost. Instead, he’s driven by the family he’s chosen—and who have chosen him in return. “Fatherhood taught me that love doesn’t need to be perfect. It just needs to be present. I never saw myself as a dad, but now I can’t see myself as anything else.”
This Father’s Day, he shares a message for every man who has stepped into the role without a map: “To all the fathers—by blood or by heart—thank you. We are not perfect. But we show up, and sometimes, that’s the most powerful thing we can do.”
Harvey’s journey reminds us that family isn’t just what we’re born into—it’s what we choose to build, piece by piece, with the love we once longed for.
And sometimes, that choice begins with a promise—a sacred one. Even before becoming a father, Jamel had already made a vow: that when his time came, he would do everything in his power to raise his family with love, dignity, and faith.
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Aljamel Sabate, a father of three from Sta. Cruz, Davao del Sur, carries both roles—and more. With his wife working overseas, he is the steady presence at home, raising three sons aged 9, 6, and under 2. He cooks their meals, manages the household, dries their tears, and teaches them the values he holds sacred.
“Even before I had kids, I already made a promise in my heart. I told myself: when the time comes, I will raise them right—with love, with faith, and with all I can give. I may not know everything, but I will show up every single day.”
Rooted in deep Islamic faith, Jamel sees parenting not just as a duty, but a spiritual calling. He leads his sons in daily prayers, teaches them discipline and respect, and reminds them—gently, patiently—that they are growing not just as boys, but as good men.
“As a father, it’s not enough to just provide. I must guide them, spiritually and emotionally. I want them to see how faith can shape their lives.” Jamel says.
But devotion alone cannot feed a family. Jamel faced job uncertainties as a skilled worker, with companies increasingly requiring NC II certifications. That changed when an opportunity came through Therma South, Inc.’s partnership with TESDA. He was among the community beneficiaries who completed their NC II Masonry certification–a critical milestone that opened new doors.
“That certification—it wasn’t just a piece of paper. It gave me a way to stand taller. After we graduated, TSI trusted us with construction projects around their site. I started getting other jobs too. The training opened the door, but the work they gave us helped us walk through it. I’m thankful for the trust, and for believing in what we can do.”
Despite his growing responsibilities, Jamel didn’t stop there. He enrolled as a first-year college student, taking up Islamic Law and Education to further strengthen his ability to teach and serve. All this—while working, parenting, and holding onto his spiritual duties.
“It’s hard. Time is my biggest challenge. But I always remind myself—my children are watching. If I want to teach them about strength, discipline, and faith, I need to live it, not just talk about it.”
For Jamel, fatherhood is a daily act of faith, a test of patience, and a journey of becoming.
“Being a father is not just about what you give—it’s about what you build. You build character, you build dreams, and you build love in the hearts of your children. That’s the legacy I want to leave behind.”
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Fourteen years ago, fresh out of university with a mechanical engineering degree in hand, Regil Kent Tumacas walked onto the construction site of what would become GNPower Mariveles Energy Center (GMEC). The foundations were still being laid, the future uncertain—but for Regil, that moment marked the beginning of a commitment that would transform not just his career, but his identity as a husband, a father, and a Filipino.
“I didn’t see GMEC as just a first job. I saw it as a calling. I told myself: if I grow here, I’ll grow with purpose.”
At the start, Regil had to adapt quickly. Though trained in mechanical engineering, he was exposed to civil, structural, and architectural work—learning from the ground up, fumbling at first, but fueled by grit and a hunger to prove himself. He later transitioned to operations and maintenance, eventually becoming a Plant Operator, and now, a Control Room Operator—the nerve center of power generation.
As a Control Room Operator, Regil’s role is critical. Every decision he makes impacts how electricity is delivered to homes, industries, and communities across Luzon. He monitors systems, responds to emergencies, and ensures that the plant runs safely, efficiently, and without fail.
“It’s pressure, yes, but it’s also pride. Knowing that the lights in thousands of homes are on because of the choices you make inside that room—it humbles you. It reminds you why this work matters.”
But the job that keeps the grid running also keeps him away from home. His wife and child are in Masbate–an island province far from Bataan–making every separation feel even heavier.
Regil’s career has required countless personal sacrifices— missed milestones, passed birthdays, and precious time with loved ones traded for overnight shifts and critical operations. And yet, his commitment has never wavered.
“There were nights when I’d finish my shift and just sit in silence, thinking of home. My wife, my children, the moments I missed. But I also think of what I’m building for them—stability, dignity, and a future brighter than what I had.”
His work, often invisible to those outside the plant, is powered by something deeper than technical know-how. It’s powered by love—for his family, for his craft, and for the country he serves every time he steps into the control room.
“People don’t often think about who keeps the lights on. But behind every bulb, there are fathers like me—far from home, focused on duty, quietly making sure no switch is ever left without power. I may not be beside my family every night, but I know they feel me in every light that stays on.”
GMEC has been more than a workplace—it’s been a partner in his journey. Regil speaks of the company the way one speaks of a life companion–with respect and gratitude.
“I always say GMEC wasn’t just my first choice—it’s my only choice. Parang sa asawa, hindi mo na kailangan maghanap ng iba. (Similar to a life partner, you don’t need to look for another.) I stayed, and GMEC stayed with me. That kind of loyalty means everything.”
Regil’s journey—marked by sacrifice, sharpened by skill, and grounded in purpose—reminds us that energy is not just about machines and megawatts. It’s about people. Fathers like him. Working quietly, tirelessly, so others can live in comfort, safety, and light.
“Being a father from afar is one of the hardest things. But it’s also one of the most powerful. Because even when you’re not physically there, your love provides, protects, and powers through. Just like electricity, love travels—even across distance. And that’s what keeps me going.”
In the quiet hours of night shifts, in the early morning commutes, in the spaces between duty and devotion—modern-day fathers carry more than responsibility. They carry legacy.
From plant floors to prayer rooms, from school gates to control rooms, the fathers of AboitizPower’s Transition Business Group show us that strength isn’t just about lifting—it’s about holding on. Holding onto purpose. Holding space for love. Holding up a future that may not always come easy, but is always worth the effort.
Their journeys—marked by sacrifice, second chances, and silent promises—remind us that power doesn’t just run through wires. It runs through the hands of men who choose to stay. To show up. To grow, even when it hurts.
This Father’s Day, we celebrate them—not just as workers, but as warriors of the everyday. They may not always be seen, but their impact is always felt.
Because in the end, it’s not just about keeping the lights on. It’s about keeping hearts warm, futures bright, and families strong. That’s the enduring power of fatherhood.
