Go to
|
(3 days of Fun, Nostalgia and Bonding) Schedule of Activities Friday, July 21, 2000 Saturday, July 22, 2000 Sunday, July 23, 2000 o-o-o-o-o-o-o
|
|
||||
|
Going home
to Tanjay, even for a wake and a funeral, was nourishment for my
body and soul. I drank deep and was nourished by our family's
sorrow, love, wit, laughter, spirit, camaraderie, music food, lots of stories and remembering. Boy Dido died on February 13th Sunday morning and was buried on Monday February 21st. The wake was held at Noel's house. I felt so touched and proud of how our cousins and other relatives rallied behind and supported Noel. The moment they heard that Boy had died, they prepared the house and set up a tent on the lawn for the people who were expected to come to the wake. In the late evenings when only relatives were left behind, every now and then, I'd observe how one male relative would leave his chair and stand beside the casket of Boy and either talk to him or gaze at him or shed a tear. I was very touched at these gestures from them. For sure, the men in our family have no problems in expressing their emotions. God has generously given them the "gift of tears". The members of Boy's high school gang, the Merry Mixed Up Kids" were there and I'm trying to recall their faces as I write: Nito and Sonia Sibala, Chick Bocanegra, Manning and Emma Lopez, Noly Oracion, Eden, Pamela, Sonia Violeta, Brenda Balbuena, Jojo and Baby Gravador. Roger and Agnes Lozada Tomare sent a wreath from Cebu. Bobby Anfone who was nursed by Boy when the former had a stroke didn't even know that Boy had died. It was best not to tell him anymore. Boy died in the presence of Noly and Noel. It was not so painful to bury Tio Jesus in 1998 because he |
lived up to
his 90's and had a
full and very enriching life. But burying Boy who belongs to our
generation was not easy. We see our mortality staring at us!
Boy was not only gifted with a keen sense of humor, he was goodness personified. One just had to visit him in Manila and see his house filled with people from Tanjay who didn't have a place to stay while following up papers or looking for job in the big city. Boy had his share of wounds and weaknesses, but he must have lived with them, carried them in his heart and constantly offered them to God during his lifetime. "It is in our woundedness that God welcomes us, loves us even more and heals us," he used to tell his friends. Indeed, when we meet God in heaven, God doesn't ask us for our medals, diplomas, degrees, wealth. On the contrary, God asks us to show Him our scars. . . by Vivette L. Faicol -o-o-o-o-o-o-
|
||||
