Forever Young

Too often, we’re inevitably hit by somebody’s issue even if we have nothing to do with it. Filipinos are, by nature, engulfed by sympathetic story would it be worth hearing or against our common interest…we tend to just dig our heels in.

Physical pain is something we fear for when we were younger. At least, ideas of why it’s terrifying were fed by media and elders who delivered us the first teachings and guided us all throughout… SORROW is another story.

My grandmother died when I was in elementary; I rushed with mama to lola Tibay's deathbed early morning. Mama's pain was hardly felt by me. Well, I sensed pain because my mother did…and it was more of an unconscious struggle.

Papa’s mom had passed away when I was in the Visayas region. I was undergoing a very stiff training that I couldn’t be home for her wake & burial. It was another classification of pain that a grandma whom I’d shared love with was not witnessed when her days were numbered. Mama’s father & sister, papa’s two bothers, and two helpers who aged and died had also brought grief with different intensities.

Few weeks before our high school graduation, the principal had announced that we should pray for our batch mate, Verna Pontejos; she was undergoing therapy to combat bone cancer. I had a weird feeling towards life itself…it could never be premeditated, thus I was so mindful about it. Verna died exactly one month after we did the graduation march where she participated in while suffering from pain. Two other mates had breathed their last due to illnesses, Suzette Apostol & Teresa Pintor; the latter died recently (2009).

During the time when I was serving young constituents as their Chairman, I got to share the federation objectives as well with my fellow leaders. Ricardo Tuason, a high school classmate and a Youth Chairman in his barangay (Nasisi), was once a dear friend to me.

In 1994, the whole federation of Albay had a conference in Bacacay’s Resort. Our stay was worthwhile as we also further our comradeship. Ricardo had revealed a lot about him; he exhibited maturity. Two days before new year 1995, we had launched one of the SK’s programs, “The Search for Miss Ligao” (my friend Loreilyn Orendain won the crown). I noticed Ricardo’s apathy that night; he led the invocation and got so quiet the whole duration. I remember Meriam Garcia, our classmate in high school, told me- Ricardo was so handsome that period…well, he actually had been aside from being brainy, however many uttered the same description at the same time.

After the event, our classmate Jay Dayandante had offered Ricardo a ride. The former owned a tricycle for a living and the latter’s place was actually outskirt…so I joined. It was after midnight…dark yet breezy; we passed by a fenced basketball court (on the left hand side) that was known to me. It wasn’t totally murky due to the motorcycle’s light; I glimpsed at white-painted graveyard inside the basketball court! Yes, I saw a graveyard!

“I didn’t know there’s a cemetery there?!” I uttered. Ricardo, who was sitting beside me in the sidecar, had suddenly punched me on my lap as he felt goosebumps. He told me not to be delirious as there was nothing there except a court. I turned my head and checked to convince myself…and I saw nothing.

When we reached his place, Ricardo was shaken by his pet dog for years that couldn’t recognize him. Barking was up to its throat! Instead, we chose to wait for the daybreak at the nearby bakery. We bit a couple of “pandesal” before we parted ways.

The next morning, Ricardo and two other youth leaders had their hair trimmed at the shop beside the bus terminal. The driver who was waiting for his bus (bound to Manila) to be filled-in did sit inside the barber shop where the three youths were going through cuts & blows simultaneously. The driver rested his eyes after reading a newspaper; to his shock in a wink of his eyes, he saw three barbers holding scissors and continuously cutting in the air…the three customers were headless!

Nothing was disclosed on the spot as the man had avoided to embarrass everybody…after all, who would believe him? The whole trip was bothering to him; consequently, he shared the story with his companions and everybody had advised him to look for those individuals and warn them off-hand upon his return to Ligao that was scheduled on the 3rd of January, 1995.

On January 2nd while I wasn’t home, Ricardo and the same men (plus one) had dropped by our house to invite me for a booze at Vice Garcia’s stepbrother who was a chairman in barangay Ranao-Ranao. Mama had a short chat with them before a decision to leave took place. Few minutes after, I arrived; their marks were still on the floor, glasses of water were left on the center piece, while chairs were scattered.

While watching TV (Maalaala Mo Kaya), Jay Dayandante came to unveil the WORST NEWS OF MY TEENAGE YEARS…”RICARDO IS DEAD!”

That was two hours after they popped around my place. I rushed to the site with Jay and discovered another dreadful reality…a tricycle that was carrying Ricardo and other four (2 youth chairmen & 2 members) was hit by a JB Liner (bus bound to Manila) and killed cruelly its five passengers on the spot!

That night I saw & felt a horrifying pain. I couldn’t stomach what I witnessed…I couldn’t believe it was happening. I was with Mike Borromeo & Antonio Saenz at the funeral parlor to identify the remains; Ricardo was almost bits and pieces.

It took a long time for me to weather that storm. The driver went back from Manila the following day and revealed what he observed at the barber shop. It was too late! On the 40th day at 3pm, I unintentionally fell asleep…I dreamt of our high school reunion; everybody was dressed...Ricardo, wearing barong tagalog, was sitting on the fence and approached me- “This is what GOD wants, please accept it,” he said. I responded back by asking-“why, are you dead?” I held his pants and felt his femur (thigh bone) inside his khakis. When I woke-up, I managed to accept the fact that he was already with his maker.

More than a decade ago, Ricardo had his dreams which some of us fulfilled. Though he was granted with a juvenile existence, his life was partly distributed to those who’d been part of it. I was glad I didn’t miss that part.