Graduation Season

The movie in my mind began to play again the other day as my daughter graduated high school. After 14 years we finally bid good-bye to familiar roads and corridoors, and faces. Notice that I said we. Because after more than a decade of shuttling her to and from school in her yellow, checkered uniform, it felt like I had graduated too.

Watching her walk up the stage to receive her diploma I thought about how my mother felt 27 years ago. Perhaps back then, she had felt the same way I did. Mom had driven me faithfully in my green and white uniform, to and from the sprawling green campus on Katipunan and on rainy days, she would waded through flood to pick up up, totally oblivious of her celebrity status. In school in the 70s and 80s. I was always known as the girl who wore Pocahontas pigtails, and the one whose artista mom drove her to and from school each day. My high school diploma was as much my mothers as it was mine.

Fast forward almost three decades later, in that spanking new gym-auditorium somewhere in Ortigas last week, all of us sat in full force – father, mother, younger brother, grandmothers on both sides of the family and one trusted yaya. How different it was for me when back in 1983 when I had only my mother and brother to cheer me on. The summer before graduation I had lost my father to a heart attack and on graduation day in 1982, I missed him terribly. For my daughter on her graduation day, there was mostly joy though I’m pretty sure that the day did not pass without her remembering her own loss too, many many years ago.

Graduation season always makes us both wistful and hopeful. Time flew by too fast I kept telling my close friends. I am grateful that for most of those 14 years, I was pretty much hands-on in raising my daughter. Looking back now, I would do it all over. Being there constantly and watching her evolve through the years from a shy child in Kindergarten , to an awkward grade school student, to finally coming ito her own in high school is a huge privilege that I am very grateful for. Our children are truly our greatest blessings.

Commencement exercises also marks the beginning of a new chapter in her life as she moves into familiar grounds in June and I must slowly learn to let go. The circle of life goes on as our daughter finds herself on the very same campus that her father and I once found ourselves in. But unlike me, 27 years ago, she enters college definite about the path she wishes to take. I always like to say that children nowadays are luckier in the sense that a greater majority of them are given much leeway by their parents to choose their own path and to harness that gift or talent which sets them apart from the rest. After all, in time, they live their own lives, and not that of their parents.

This morning my daughter and I walked through her new campus as she began making preparations for new life come June. I eagerly walked her through the many corridoors that were once so familiar to me. Though much has changed, a lot of things remain the same. I thought it was uncanny that she opted to wear a yellow Ninoy Aquino shirt with the classic Ninoy image and “Ninoy lives in my heart” written on it. The very same shirt was in vogue when I was a Freshman in college on the year that Ninoy was assasinated.

And so the memories of the years spent on campus – both happy and sad, came flooding back. Passing by the bookshop I could not help but purchase a blue and white shirt that resonated with me that morning. The shirt, emblazoned with a quote from the school’s most famous alumni (Dr. Jose Rizal) on his thoughts about our school called out to me – “I spent many happy years there.” Though high school was fun, I found the college years to be even better. I pray that it will be the same for my daughter and for the many other graduates who leave their comfort zones this month. The world lies waiting for you…sieze it with faith, kindness, diligence and compassion. Congratulations!

Room With A View

"I believe the nicest, sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens, but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string." - Anne Shirley in Lucy Maud Montgomery's "Anne of Green Gables"

This was the breathtaking view from where I sat this morning. A quiet, perfect and uneventful morning just with myself. The gentle wind on my face as I read from Sarah Ban Breathnach and M. Scott Peck's books on the second floor library of this resort that feels just like home.

Somewhere else, seven new high school graduates slept soundly, like babies, as they caught up on much needed sleep while I dozed on and off on a comfortable sofa, book in hand, looking out onto a serene, cerulean, Visayan sea.

I had been here back in September 2007 and wrote a review on it in one of my blogs -- Cathy Chronicles. That period, was a more "turbulent" if you might call it that, time in my life, and Bohol provided a wonderful respite and balm to the events that were unfolding that year.

But now, two years later, the mid-life crisis over, all is peaceful and all is well. I cannot begin to thank the Lord enough for bringing me back here to savor the peace and serenity. I tap away on this quiet night, listening to the gentle waves lapping from a distance. Tomorrow I look forward to rising before sunrise and taking a leisurely stroll on the shore as I mull over the giant step that I have taken towards the fulfillment of a life-long dream this April.

God is good and He feels so close to me here. My heart overflows with gratitude and grace.

"Mga Gerilya Sa Powell Street" : Revisiting The Beteranos

Growing up, I was very close to an elderly uncle, my mother's eldest brother, who was a WW II veteran. He liked to regale us with stories of his exploits as a guerilla in Cebu as a 20something young man. He had quite the love story too.

On the other side of the family tree, I never got to meet my grandfather on my father's side. What I knew of him, I heard from stories passed down from generation to another. He too was a young man during the war. He was in his early 30s when as a guerilla in Davao he was picked up by the Japanese and allegedly thrown into the sea, leaving behind a young widow with six children whose ages ranged from 10 to 3.

Stories about WW II veterans have always held a special place in my heart because of the legacy and mystery that these two men left me. That many years later I would find myself married to a man whose interest in books and movies zeroes in on WW II is perhaps serendipitous in a way.

One day about two months ago I had read a short review about a book called "Mga Gerilya sa Powell Street" by Benjamin Pimentel, published by the Ateneo de Manila University Press and I was quite struck by the premise of the story. It told of the struggles of several elderly WW II veterans who regularly met on Powell street in San Francisco -- living a difficult life away from their families, and yet, in true Pinoy fashion, managed to find ways and means to bond with one another, finding comfort and humor in their brotherhood in spite of dire living conditions.

I asked H to buy me the book and because the topic interested him as well, he read it ahead of me and would not stop raving about it for weeks. After a month, while vacationing in Guam, I took the book with me on the plane and found myself riveted by the story woven by Pimentel. I was so captured by the book and fully engaged in the lives and dialogue of its colorful characters that I could not put it down! Now, having finished the book from cover to cover in two days is quite a feat for me. Over the last few years, I have been the type to read three books at a time and taking forever, or sometimes, never, to finish it. So this was a first, in many, many years! And even more challenging because it was written in Tagalog!

I was so taken by the book that the writer in me wanted to know it's back story and my sleuthing around was rewarded by finding Benjamin Pimentel through the mother of all social networking sites - Facebook. It turns out that he was a classmate of several friends from the school across the creek from my high school on Katipunan. What a happy discovery that was for me! In a series of email exchanges, I go to know more about how the book evolved and what inspired Ben to write it. I also found out that the book had been turned into a play that had a highly successful run at the CCP last November, and that it was going to be re-staged at the AFP Theater on Monday, March 30, 2009 at 2:00 PM and at 7:00 PM.

Having enjoyed the book tremedously, this is one play (written by Rody Vera) that I surely will not miss. Secondly, because the beteranos, our forgotten heroes, have been in the news lately. Third, I found a deeper appreciation for their struggles after reading "Mga Gerilya Sa Powell Street" and lastly, because it would be a nice way of honoring and revisiting the gerilyas in my own family. Below is a short interview I did with Gerilya author, Benjamin Pimentel.

Midlife Mysteries (MM): When did you get the idea for the book? Why did you decide to write about the beteranos?

Ben Pimentel (BP) : The beteranos began arriving in America in the early 1990s, around the same time I began working for the San Francisco Chronicle. So I used to see them hanging out at the Powell Street BART station which is just a few blocks from the Chronicle building. I later wrote about them and their struggles when I was the Chronicle's Asian American affairs beat reporter. My friend Rick Rocamora, who documented the veterans' plight in moving photographs, and I had thought of collaborating on a non-fiction book about these men. I began interviewing some of the veterans who lived in the Tenderloin district, while Rick took photos. The project eventually fell through when my Chronicle assignment changed. But the stories of these men remained in my head, and I later wrote a short story in English based on their experiences. The story, "Waiting on Powell Street," won the Bienvenido Santos Short Story contest here in the U.S. and that encouraged me to expand it into a novel. Initially, I tried to write it in English. But the story would not come alive in my head. It was as if the characters were rebelling, telling me, "Bakit mo kami pinag-i-Ingles e mga Pilipino kami." So I shifted to Pilipino and it was then that the characters came alive in my imagination.

Writing Gerilya was my way of fulfilling a promise I made to myself. I had dreamed of writing a novel since I was eight years old. I had promised myself that I would write one before I reach 40. I actually failed in this. I finished Gerilya after I turned 40, but just a few months before I turned 41. So I'm still happy with that.

I entered the novel in the 2005 Palanca Contest. It lost and I later forgot about it. It would have remained forgotten in my computer hard drive had a friend not suggested that I send it to Ateneo Press which later agreed to publish it.

MM : What kind of research did you do? (The dialogue and the story seem to have come from someone who really immersed himself with the beteranos...)


BP : I interviewed veterans for stories I did for the San Francisco Chronicle. For the book project with Rick Rocamora, I did long interviews with a group of veterans who lived in a room in the Tenderloin district in San Francisco. Rick and I visited them several times so I got to know them well. The men were much like other elderly, working class Pinoy men in the Philippines -- they liked to tell each other stories, teased one another and talked about their dreams and life adventures and misadventures. Mahilig mag alaskahan at mag bidahan.

MM: How often did you and see them? And what was that like for you?

BP: The group I followed in the Tenderloin led a hard life. There were about ten of them and their home was a small room that was poorly heated, extremely cramped and had molds in the ceiling. The Tenderloin is known as a rough neighborhood, but these men learned to survive there. Some of them were ill. I remember one of them had a heart condition. One benefit of living in San Francisco was they had access to health care that they probably would not be able to afford in the Philippines. They all had a good sense of humor and told funny stories about their life in America. Still, it was clear that they would rather be home in the Philippines. But they stayed in order to send money back to their families, or to find a way to bring their families to America.

MM: Can you tell me a little about why and how you moved the U.S. yourself?

BP : I came to the US as a grad student in 1990. After college, I had worked as a journalist for a small magazine edited by Pete Lacaba and Greg Brillantes. After three years, I wanted to go back to school and live overseas -- to try something new. I went to the UC Berkeley Graduate School of Journalism, and my plan was to get my degree and then return to the Philippines. I had not planned on staying, but then I met my wife here, got a job as a reporter and fell in love with the San Francisco Bay Area.

MM: Are you still in touch with the beteranos on Powell street? Are they still there after the recent events ? Do you think their lives have been radically changed by these developments?

BP: I have not kept in touch with the veterans I interviewed. I have been in touch with some of their advocates, including Attorney Lourdes Tancinco whose office is located near the Powell Street Station. She is the real Attorney Anna Dizon, but unlike the character in the novel and the play, Attorney Lou is fluent in Tagalog and Kapampangan. As you know, the US government just approved a benefis package for the beteranos. It's a victory, but a bittersweet one. They are getting a lump sum benefit, but they do not get the other benefits enjoyed by regular US military veterans. I know Attorney Lou is disappointed because the beteranos certainly deserve more. But then fighting for full benefits could mean a longer struggle and many of these men don't have much time. It's a tough and painful compromise.

It's been fun and exciting to hear people's reactions to the novel, and also to the play written by Rody Vera. I never expected Gerilya to travel so far, and I'm glad more people know more about the sacrifices of the beteranos partly because of the novel.

"Mga Gerilya sa Powell Street" is an original play adapted by Palanca Award-winning playwright Rody Vera from the novel of the same title by Benjamin Pimentel. Pimentel's original novel won the highest citation in last year's National Book Awards. The play is staged under the direction of Chris Millado. In the cast are veteran stage thespians Lou Veloso, Bembol Roco, Madeleine Nicolas and other talented guest performers. Please call Tanghalang Pilipino at 832-3661 or 832-1125 local 1620 or 1621 for more information.

To My Daughter As She Graduates...

Is this the little girl I carried?
Is this the little boy at play?

I don't remember growing older
When did they?

When did she get to be a beauty?
When did he grow to be so tall?

Wasn't it yesterday
When they were small?

Sunrise, sunset
Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly flow the days
Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers
Blossoming even as we gaze
- From "Fiddler on the Roof"

Time has flown so quickly but we are happy and proud of what you have become. We thank God for giving you to us and are grateful for the privilege and blessing of being a parent to you.

Now college beckons and it will be a whole new world... waiting to be conquered. With kindness, diligence, perseverance and faith. Congratulations P!
Fly high!
We love you :)

Are You A Facebook Parent?

My classes at the Ateneo officially ended yesterday. Saying good-bye to students, especially if it’s a small class, isn’t always easy. Thanks to Facebook, the parting becomes easier.

I know this may sound funny but I built a Facebook account ahead of my 18-year old daughter. Now considered to be the most popular social networking site in many countries, Facebook has become the largest player on the global stage. According to a March 2009 Nielsen report on “Global Faces and Networked Places - Social Networking’s Global Footprint”, social networking has been the global consumer phenomenon of 2008. The report says, “Two-thirds of the world’s internet population visit a social network or a blogging site and the sector now accounts for 10% of all internet time.”

The fact that I acquired a Facebook (FB) account earlier than any of my children is also explained in the report. Although social networking sites were initially very popular among teen-agers, Facebook has apparently changed all that. “The greatest growth for Facebook has come from people aged 35-49 years of age (+24.1 Million). Furthermore, Facebook has added almost twice as many 50-64 year olds visitors (+13.6 Million) than it has added under 18 year old visitors (+7.3 Million). That explains why, my husband who though sociable would be the last one to indulge in social networking is now an active member of the FB community as well.

Facebook has already replaced My Space as the world's most popular social network and is now visited by three in every ten people across the globe. In the United Kingdom, it is visited by 47% of Britons online and in its country of origin, the U.S., it registers 33%. I wonder what the statistics are like for us here in the Philippines?

I once asked a mid-40s friend of mine if her son was on Facebook and she said that he wasn't too keen on it because “It's filled with parents!” I had to laugh at her remark because it was so true. I find that Facebook has become the playground of the 40something generation and that the 50somethings are now discovering it too. It is also a wonderful to re-connect with old friends who have disappeared, ex-boyfriends and girlfriends included.

As a parenting tool, it is a nice way to interact with your children – on a different level, in a dimension that they can fully identify with and understand. I've asked educator friends to create accounts of their own, not to keep tabs on their students but rather as a means of communicating with them, and well, okay, finding out their thoughts. Facebook status updates are very telling and a great way of knowing one's current mood or state of mind. Something that parents can use to their advantage.
Over at the hallowed halls of Stanford University, the course “Facebook for Parents” was launched last month. Created by BJ Fogg, Director of the Persiasive Technology Lab at Stanford and co-editor of “The Psychology of Facebook”, the free, four-part course was immediately filled by parents eager to navigate the FB world. It is a hands-on course that aims to help parents navigate the site, create their own page, learn about threats and safety and examine the various ways that FB can teach kids life lessons and social skills. Fogg has a website www.facebookforparents.org he has an informative newsletter as well for parents of children under the age of 18 that readers can sign up and receive for free.

If you are a newbie to social networking sites and would like to know more about your child's world – not in a manner of intruding, but rather, of getting to know him or her in a different light – I highly suggest that you set up an FB account yourself. Fogg outlines five simple steps :

Sign up for Facebook at www.facebook.com
“Friend” your kids. To “friend” someone on Facebook means connecting to them. Your kids may initially balk at this, but if you have an open and healthy relationship to begin with, “friending” them should not be a problem.
Review your kids profile pages. Go to their profile pages and review their content. Don't stop at the “wall”. Click on the tabs for “photos” and “Info” to see more. Some of the pages can be amusing and you begin to see your child in a different light. You learn more about their interests, what they are “fans” of and how they communicate with their peers.
Review who is “friends” with your child. Click on “see all” on the Friends box to see who your children's contacts are. Seeing who is friends with whom is typical FB behavior so don't feel like you are snooping.
Select “More About” for your kids. Watch for items about your child in your news feed. Click on that item and select the “More About” option. This tells FB to show you more about that person in the future.

A word of warning though. On FB, the observation and connecting go both ways. On the one hand, it may be good for your child to see your more “humane” side as she or he observes first-hand how you connect with your own contacts online. Be careful though of what you say or post or you may never hear the end of it at the dinner table. Childhood secrets are often let loose on the wall or in those multitude of “notes” that crop up every now and then. The wonderful thing about FB is that for once, there is a playground where children, teeners and their mid-life parents are able to romp around in. Play fair. Happy Facebooking!

Beth Israel workers agree to go without to save jobs - The Boston Globe

Beth Israel workers agree to go without to save jobs - The Boston Globe

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Francis M's Music Filled Wake

It was what you might call a "happy wake." I didn't really know Francis M but based on what I saw and heard last night, I guess he would not have wanted the gathering to take place any other way.

I've been to several wakes in my lifetime. In fact, Over the last two days, I've been to one every night. Both were filled with people who had happy, wonderful memories of the loved on who had gone ahead. They were men, both loved by family, peers and colleagues.

I'm pretty sure that Pia and her family have found some degree of comfort in the love and camaraderie that has surrounded them these last few days. The Christ the King church on Greenmeadows Avenue is filled with a multitude of people at any given time. And yet, it is very orderly considering the huge throng of people that line up daily to catch a last glimpse of their idol. Though I am a child of showbiz, I was simply floored by the stars that showed up and shone for Francis M last night. I could imagine him grinning from ear to ear up there. Yes, Francis they all showed up to show you how much they love you and how they will all miss you.

My mother, H and I went there at around 10PM last night to pay our respects. Francis M's dad was a good friend of my mom and I remember how in 1981 on one hot April morning he strode into the chapel of Sanctuario de San Jose in Greenhills where my father lay. Momentarily stirred from our personal grief, my jaw almost dropped when I saw THE Pancho Magalona walk in and hug my mom. I didn't even know then that they were friends but mom says that was the kind of gentleman Pancho was and he was so well-loved.

His son is no different. With his music reverberating throughout the chapel, friends flocked past his coffin to say a prayer, to whisper perhaps a thank you, to say some words to shed a tear. On the right side of where he lay was a video wall that continually played clips of his various shows from many years ago.

We were seated behind Pia and I was simply in awe of her composure and courage. Francis had prepared them well. There she sat, smiling and accepting everyone's sympathies. At least last night, wrapped in the comfort of family and friends, there were no tears for Francis M. But you could see that she was tired and that she missed him. When his video clips showed, she would sit transfixed watching him perform, singing to his songs. It was poignant. You could see that the younger ones were really missing their dad. Clara sat beside Pia, and she too was glued to the images of her dad, so vibrant and so alive.

Francis may be gone but he will live on through his music. This is the wonderful legacy he has left behind his beautiful family. May they all find great comfort in the gift that the Man from Manila has left them behind.

Special thanks to Girlie Rodis for lending me her photos.

Are You A Rihanna?

Reading about the Rihanna-Chris Brown domestic violence stories worried me a lot. More so when I saw the singer’s photograph showing her face swollen and beaten. Yet, a few weeks later, she was supposedly back in her abuser’s arms. And then I was reminded of my good friend Nina.

Nina (not her real name), whom I grew up with, and is one of my dearest friends came home hastily from New York where she had been living with her son and husband. One day, out of the blue, over lunch, a few months after she had returned, she admitted to me that she had been a battered wife for seven years.

I was completely taken aback. She had been one of the fiestiest women I knew – smart, accomplished and worldly-wise. “I never thought I would take it or put up with it for so long,” she told me. And yet she did.

Domestic violence against women has been a serious issue in households all over the world, but it has also been kept under wraps despite the alarming figures. Here at home, a total of 6,679 cases involving violence against women were recorded in 2007. That figure translates into about 20 victimes in one day. And domestic violence cuts across all social classes. Many of the unreported cases happen to women belonging to the upper strata of society. In spite of the existence of Republic Act 9262 – The Anti Violence against Women and Children Act which was enacted into law last March 8, 2004, there still remains many unreported cases. RA 9262 is applicable to the following acts:

• Phsyical violence – acts that include bodily or physical harm
• Sexual violence – acts which are sexual in nature
• Psychological violence – commission or omission of acts which cause mental or emotional suffering of the victim;
• Economic abuse – acts that make a women financially dependent on the offender.

It was interesting to listen in on a “Speak Out Against Domestic Violence” forum sponsored by Avon. A global campaign of “the company for women” the program aims to create awareness about the reality of domestic abuse, as well as to raise funds through the sale of targeted merchandise (a pretty silver Global Empowerment Necklace) whose proceeds go towards the support of ongoing projects of local non-government organizations and ensure the activitation of a hotline to allow women in abusive relationships to speak out. Bob Briddon, Avon Philippines President and General Manager told the audience that morning, “We realize that the best weapon of any woman against domestic violence is empowerment. With all of you as partners, we will do this by helping them take the first step, the opportunity to speak out.”

The forum was participated in by Senator Pia Cayetano , a staunch defender of the rights of women and children and current president of the coordinating committee of women parliamentarians of the International Parliamentary Union and one of the co-authors of the Magna Carta of Women; Dr. Honey Carandang an esteemed child and family psychologist and trauma specialist; women’s rights advocate Rina Jimenez David and media personality Cito Beltran who shared his views from a man or husband’s perspective. Interestingly, the Philippine spokesperson for the campaign is actress Ruffa Gutierrez, once herself a battered wife.

The road to this “empowerment” however, is long and narrow. Often the battered spouse takes the abuse for many years before she finally wakes up. There is the cycle of violence to grapple with. As Nina put it so aptly – “Batterers do not look like batterers. They are often very charming and look like they can do no harm.” In her case, she said that often, after her husband would abuse her, he would transform into the sweetest, most apologetic person in the world. “I thought then that since he was sorry with my love would be enough able to change him…” Rihanna issue with her. “It’s a vicious cycle, and after a while, the battered wifeor partner begins to feel like she deserves the beating, and so she continues to believe him and take him back after every apology. It’s like an addiction of sorts.”


I asked her again what it was that finally made her decide to break away and leave him after seven years. “One evening he beat me up badly because he didn’t like the way I cooked his tapa. He hit me so hard that I fell on the floor and when I was trying to get up, I saw my young son from the corner of my eye. He was watching TV in our little apartment and he had seen everything.” It was then, she said, that she decided the violence had to stop. “I did not want my son to see me that way and for him to grow up in that kind of environment. I also did not want to raise another potential wife beater because he had witnessed all of that.”

Nina called the police and reported her husband while she was at the ER of a New York City hospital. Her husband disappeared into the night and left the country. A few weeks later, ironically, it was her husband’s favorite aunt who came to her home, gave her money and packed her things for her. “I was a wreck at that poiont in time. She told me it was no way to live a life, especially with a seven year old son. She took care of us and got us on the plane that finally brought us safely home.”

There continues to be a very strong stigma attached to domestic abuse in this country. Either the women refuse to speak up because of “hiya” or because they feel they have no place to go and are more often than not, financially dependent on the abuser. Other family members may refuse to step into the problem because they feel it is not in their place to do so. Other women are told by elders who know no better, “just bear it, he will change.” Martyrdom is not a virtue especially if you have children who see the violent acts taking place. Violence should have no room in any family, and it must never be tolerated. As one other battered friend who had found the courage to break out of the cycle once told me, “What will your “hiya” do, if the violence escalates and one day all that is left is a lifeless you?” If you find yourself in this situation or know of someone who is, speak up for yourself or speak out for your loved ones.

There are laws to protect you.


Where to seek help –
DSWD Crisis Intervention Unit (02) 734-8635; 488-3199

NBI Violence Against Women and Children’s Desk (02) 523-8231 loc 3403

Women’s Crisis Center East Avenue Medical Center (02) 926-7744; 929-25909


This story appeared in "Roots & Wings" in the Lifestyle section of the Philippine Daily Inquirer, March 8, 2009

Francis Magalona and the Brevity of Life

I was driving in Ortigas traffic, stuck almost in front of The Medical City (TMC) when the text message came from Rowena -- "Francis M passed away at 12 noon today." P and I looked at each other and then we looked in the direction of the hospital where I once worked.

I had just begun my stint at TMC as Corporate Communications Consultant when Francis was first admitted last year for Acute Myelogenous Leukemia. This was sometime in April 2008. It came as a big surprise because I had always known him to be the healthy, active type. I was at the same time, scared for him though because my father in-law had passed away from the same illness in 1999, only two weeks from diagnosis.

Once in a while, I would see Pia M in the hospital, always in a rush, going to and fro, possibly shuttling between Francis M and her other children. Oh but her devotion to him was truly admirable. And she carried her burden with so much grace and courage. I once had the opportunity of making small talk with her in the elevator. She looked tired and wan, but remained very pleasant and had a peaceful smile on her face.

My heart goes out to her and their eight children. It's difficult enough to be a widow, all the more when there are many kids to look out for. I pray that God fill her with the wisdom, courage and grace to see her through the next few days, weeks, months... I know Francis was her world, her great love.. and she loved him well, to the end.

This is the third death that my husband H and I have encountered over the last couple of days. Yesterday, his classmate Monch passed away from a stroke, gone at 55. They had just been together a week before at a merienda for their classmate Don Rodis. "I remember what he wore, he was in bright red t-shirt with "Kiwanis" emblazoned on it." H said yesterday when he told me that Monch had just died.

This morning, a provincemate of H's, who is the uncle of a dear friend of mine from college was gone at 58 from complications arising from diabetes.

A few hours later, it was Francis M. Gone at 44. We share the same birth month and year and so when someone that close in age to you just died, you cannot help but ponder the brevity of life.

You will never know when you will go. Look at Amiel Alcantara. One moment he is walking in a parking lot, sandwich in hand, strolling with his siblings. A few minutes later, his very life is snuffed out of him, just like that.

And so we must always remember to always live well, and love well. It's useless bearing grudges, or not being able to forgive. Let go and live each day in peace and love. Spend time with your loved ones. When you part, never part in anger. In doing so, you do not live with regret. Regret is a sad thing to have when you are on your death bed or when a loved one suddenly passes away.

My friend Sweepea said it well, "The father of Pinoy rap is now with the FATHER." Fill the heavens with your music now Francis. Thank you for the music and your presence in our lives. You will be missed.

The Real Jericho Rosales

Meeting Echo was a nice way to begin the month.

It was a welcome respite from a busy, emotion wracked but neverthless blessed February. We were at the Discovery Suites yesterday afternoon on assignment from the paper. What can I tell you -- he's real, he's nice, very well-grounded and such a simple and sensible young man.

P was with me, she took these pictures and she was quite impressed with him too. Very articulate, he made no qualms about his background and says he lives his life with no regrets. Turning 30 this year, three things he is very passionate about -- acting, singing and surfing. The latter he indulges in everytime he has two free days off in a row - "I'm off to Baler this week-end," he grins.

Ah Baler. I tell him that we fell in love with him in that movie and that he was so deserving of the best actor award. "You really should have gotten it," I tell him. He grins and replies, as he acknowledges my unabashed compliment of his portrayal of the ill-fated and dashing Celso Resurreccion -- "Well, there's my trophy right there." *sigh

These Bicolanos sure know how to flatter. I know. I married one :)

One Loss, Many Griefs - The Aftermath of Losing Amiel Alcantara

A pall of gloom hovers heavily over the Ateneo de Manila Grade School. The sound of young boys running and playing is not as loud as it is from a week ago. In the middle of the parking lot close to the pick-up point, a silent, poignant monument stands.

Amiel Alcantara, all of ten years old was run over by a reckless driver last Tuesday afternoon, on his first day back at school after a successful boy’s scout camping trip held in Bolinao, Pangasinan last week-end. In the blink of an eye, on a scorchingly hot afternoon, the Alcantara family’s life was changed forever.

Traumatic loss is defined as one that is sudden, unanticipated and outside the normal range of experience. These kinds of losses overwhelm the bereaved’s resources, leaving them feeling helpless. The process of resolving a traumatic loss is often very complicated and takes longer than any other form of grief and places a tremendous amount of strain on the family and in the community.

The Ateneo Grade School now grapples with this kind of loss. This is the first loss of its nature to happen inside the sprawling Loyola Heights campus. In previous years, there have been boys who have met vehicular accidents on the stretch of Katipunan road, but none like this one inside the campus where another parent is involved.

Some of Amiel’s classmates said that they continue to busy themselves with schoolwork and projects because exams are scheduled for the second week of March. They go about their business quietly he says but he has noticed that they haven’t been playing as much since Amiel died and that the class in quieter than usual. Jonny Salvador, Assistant Headmaster of the grade school said that they have sent out a grief guide to members of the community. “Along side this effort, we are mobilizing the support systems within the structure of our school (guidance counselors, class advisers and department coordinators ) to identify those who are in most need at the moment of counseling. While we believe that it is cathartic for everyone to go through a process, our first step would be to address those in the immediate circle.”

Dr. Martin Moreno, Amiel’s uncle tells me that the Ateneo immediately offered the grade school chapel as a venue for the wake. “The administration also sent food,” Dr. Moreno tells me when I spoke to him on the first night of the wake.

The Moreno-Alcantara’s come from a large, closely-knit clan. It was comforting to see how they were all there pulling together for a fallen loved one. Dr. Moreno tells me that it was he who first arrived at New Era hospital when Amiel was rushed there and being the doctor in the family, the burden of having to make crucial decisions lay heavily on his shoulders. It was he who met his sister Melanie, when she arrived not yet knowing that her youngest son had laready passed away. He was the one whom she requested to notify Pepe about Amiel’s death.

Amiel’s siblings appear to be all right on the surface, as most young children are expected to do after a loss. However one can only imagine the pain that is etched in their young hearts and minds. Avie, the 13 year old had helped pull his brother from under the van, and his 7-year old sisterJana who was pushed out of the harm’s way by their yaya – what painful images remain with them?

Then there is the legal battle that lies ahead.

Open and honest communication is an essential tool needed by families in order to move on and heal from their grief. In this particular incident, not only the family, but the school community has been traumatized by what has happenned, add to that everyone else involved in the accident – the driver of the van, who is herself a parent, the drivers of the other vehicles who also got hit, and mostly, everyone who was there in the parking lot that Tuesday afternoon and witnessed the accident.

If grief and healing is to be a collective experience, family members, school officials and administrators need to engage in the act of truly listening to each other, difficult though that may sometimes be. Sensitivity to one another’s grieving pattens is also essential because each person grieves differently. My grief professor used to say “One loss, many griefs.” Not all of Amiel’s classmates will miss him and grieve for him in the same manner that his best buddies would. Not all his teachers will grieve his loss in the same manner perhaps as scoutmaster who worked very closely with him especially on those last days. His parents will each have different ways of doing their grief work as his aunts, uncles and grandparents.

What has happenned to Amiel is every parent’s worst nightmare. You cannot stop and think of him without remembering your own child. As I pondered on why many other parents like myself were so deeply affected by Amiel’s passing I remember what Gibran once wrote – “When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.” It could have happenned to anyone’s child. The woman at the wheel could have been any parent. It is good that apologies have been offered, the driver and her family will have their own share of deep grief. However, as one other other mother who also lost a child through an unfortunate accident,when another co-parent who was the wheel of the vehicle that her son was on once told me, “The anguish and grief is not the same. I’m sure he lives with the guilt everyday, but he did not lose a son, we did.” And so the road to healing is a long arduous one where forgiveness and faith play important roles in navigating the journey. Our prayers for discernment go out to all the parties involved. May they all find a higher meaning to Amiel’s departure.

Email the author at cathybabao@gmail.com

POST SCRIPT : It is also important for the children of Theresa Torres to get the help that they need we pray that the family recognizes and realizes this. It may be in their best interest to be moved to a different school or city lest they be crucified by less kinder members of the community. They are children and need to be protected too.

Many parents have come forwarded and written about their own horror stories in their respective schools parking lots. If you have a story to share, please send your details to cathybabao@gmail.com We shall keep it private but as a community, we also have a responsibility to all our children to do everything that we can to keep them safe when they are away from us.