Rosemarie Rosas-Managbanag: My Story

On the stormy night of November 8, 1968, an infant’s shrilling cries rumbled across Sacred Heart Hospital’s delivery room. The second born of Ricarda and Antonio Rosas, she is the only lass among their three children to have entered their lives. The healthy baby girl weighed 6 pounds and 9 ounces with the height of only 45 centimeters. Despite her lack in height upon being born, her round and rosy cheeks riveted everyone’s gaze that she was conferred with the precise and faultless name, Rose. She grew up to be a proper lady with grace but with an attitude and a mischievous side in hiding. Forty-six years later, she is now the proud bearer of my father’s last name—Rosemarie Rosas-Managbanag. She is a lady who is not merely a woman of form, but
He thought that she was a recondite with endless terrain of thoughts, both perturbing and vivacious intertwined in long fabrics of unanswerable questions and meritorious understanding about the world. Until now, I can most definitely attest to that. When absorbed in all the workload, she would put all her attention to it to avoid mistakes. When she says no, she means no. She has a strong personality that when she commands, there are no highway options. She is not indecisive; she is certain as to what she wants. Her firm and circumstantial adjudication will not ever be changed in accordance to favoritism, but of
I have always kept this in mind and I have learned to give back to my parents for all the sacrifices they have made just for me to give the best education they could afford. My mom would always joke around and tell me things like, “Work hard and suffer now, so you can live the rest of your life shopping harder.” She gives me something to look forward to in the future. Her zealous temperament and unfaltering persistency to complete her tasks motivates me to maximize my full capacity, as well. Giving importance to education is one of the embodied values she has instilled in me that I will be forever grateful