THE dream ended when it finally became possible.
After entering a mutual partnership agreement with the man he loved, Walter Pilapil believed his dream of becoming a father was finally within reach. Adoption was no longer a distant wish but a real possibility.
Yet, when the dream was already in front of him, Walter was the one who walked away.
Not because he lacked love. Not because he lacked support. But because he feared that loving a child would not be enough to stay.
Nine years earlier, Walter underwent a life-saving heart operation after suffering from heart enlargement, a condition he associated with years of stress, overwork, and lack of rest. What he initially thought was a routine checkup turned into an emergency that nearly cost him his life.
The experience changed the way he viewed the future.
"If I only have a few years left, what will happen to the child?" Walter recalled asking himself.
For Walter, becoming a father was never the question. Staying long enough to be one was. The decision was painful, but sacrifice was hardly unfamiliar to him.
Growing up different
Long before he gave up the dream of fatherhood, Walter had already learned what it meant to live differently.
Growing up in Daanbantayan, in the northernmost barangay in Cebu, being openly gay in the 1990s was far from easy. Walking down the street often meant hearing the word "bayot" hurled at him by strangers, children, and even adults. At a time when acceptance was rare and discrimination was commonplace, many LGBTQ+ individuals learned to conceal parts of themselves simply to avoid becoming targets.
Walter knew that reality all too well.
As a young man, he dreamed of taking up Criminology and becoming a police officer. But in an era when openly gay individuals were seldom seen in the profession, the fear of judgment slowly pushed him away from that dream. Instead, he pursued degree programs that felt more socially acceptable for someone like him.
It was one of the many dreams he would be forced to surrender.
A father's acceptance
And while society often questioned his identity, one person never did.
His father.
Walter describes himself as a proud "Papa's girl." While others mocked him for being gay, his father stood firmly by his side. In a time when acceptance from parents was far from guaranteed, that support became one of the greatest blessings of his life.
His father defended him. Encouraged him. Loved him without conditions.
When his father died in 2013, Walter felt as though a part of himself had disappeared forever.
"Kon bird pa na, nabalian og usa ka pako," he said.
For years, he carried that loss.
Confronting mortality
Then, in 2017, life nearly took away the other.
By then, Walter was juggling countless responsibilities. Teaching, community commitments, weddings, events, and other obligations consumed much of his time. Sleep became a luxury. Rest became an afterthought.
Soon, his body began to protest.
Breathing became difficult. Sleeping flat on a bed felt almost impossible. What he assumed was a routine medical consultation quickly turned into an emergency admission.
Doctors informed him that surgery could no longer wait.
Within hours, Walter found himself staring at the bright lights of an operating room. Terrified, he begged to go home. Instead, he was wheeled into surgery.
The procedure saved his life.
But it also forced him to confront something he had spent years avoiding—his own mortality.
The cost was staggering. To help cover medical expenses, the family sold property and sacrificed resources they had spent years building.
When Walter awoke from surgery, his future suddenly looked different.
So did the people in it.
Choosing love
During his recovery in a Cebu City hospital, two important figures arrived at his bedside: a former partner and Ervin Arribado, the man who would eventually become his husband.
When asked who he wanted beside him, Walter chose Ervin.
Before leaving, the former partner reportedly approached Ervin and said:
"Bai, ayaw kabuangi si Walter."
Ervin's response would stay with Walter for years.
"Kon giunsa nimo siya pag-love, palabwan nako."
If there was ever a promise waiting to be tested, time would soon test it.
Four years later, Walter and Ervin formalized their commitment through a mutual partnership agreement, becoming the first same-sex couple in Daanbantayan to do so.
The ceremony was not merely about romance.
It was about recognition. It was about commitment. It was about family.
Letting go of a dream
Ironically, it was that same desire for family that led Walter to abandon the dream of adoption.
The possibility of leaving a child behind haunted him more than the possibility of never becoming a parent at all.
Rather than adopting a child, Walter chose another path.
A different legacy
He began helping working scholars pursue their education. Over the years, several of those scholars graduated from college—an achievement Walter considers among the proudest moments of his life. For him, their success became something far greater than a personal accomplishment.
It became his legacy.
Every diploma earned. Every graduation march completed. Every dream realized by the students he helped reminded him that parenthood can take many forms.
He may never hear a child call him "father."
But he has watched young people cross graduation stages because someone believed in them when they needed it most.
And for Walter, that is enough.
Still moving forward
Life tested him once again in 2026.
A persistent headache eventually revealed something more serious—a mild stroke.
Today, he takes multiple maintenance medications daily and continues to monitor his health closely. Yet despite the discrimination he endured, the dreams he surrendered, the father he lost, the heart operation he survived, and the stroke that followed, Walter refuses to define his life by hardship.
Instead, he measures it through gratitude.
Gratitude for a father who accepted him when acceptance was rare.
Gratitude for a partner who stayed when life became difficult.
Gratitude for scholars who transformed opportunity into achievement.
And gratitude for the chance to remain true to himself.
For many, Pride is a celebration of identity.
For Walter Pilapil, it is something deeper.
It is surviving long enough to become the person he once needed when he was young.
Years ago, Walter said losing his father felt like losing a wing. Today, he may never have the child he once dreamed of raising, but he has helped others pursue dreams of their own.
And for a man who once felt like a bird with a broken wing, that may be the closest thing to flying. (Justin Bugtai, Lee Hashman Patalita, CNU interns)