My father was a shoemaker. Not sure if it could be considered a profession, but it was something that was passed down to my father by his father who also got it from the father of my father's father. Alright, that sounded confusing. To make it simple, it's been handed down through generations. A family business that started in Marikina City generations ago, was kept by my father, even brought it with him when we moved to a different city.
I was just a child back then, but I did understand his desire--his need--to keep it going. I understood that someday, he has to pass it down to his son--to me. He was going to pass it down when he decided it is time. That was the plan.
But he didn't get to decide. The plan changed.
My father died.
He didn't get to pass it down. All he could leave was a shoe he made. The half of the pair of shoes he was supposed to make for me. It fit my left foot perfectly.