Grace in the wake of grief

I write this from the Queen City of the South, Cebu, where dozens of Manilans have descended for the much-anticipated grand launch of Rustan’s Weddings and Beyond, the premier department store’s bridal registry, bridal services and offerings project.

Summer has started and everyone is in vacation mode. The paradise island atmosphere that Shangri-La Mactan provides immediately buoys the mood of all who walk in here. We are at The Marquee, Shangri-La’s newest venue for large functions of over 500 people. The setup, owing to the theme of Weddings and Beyond, is dreamy and magical; white dominates the color palette, the lighting is dramatic, the table settings are grand.

I survey the crowd; it is a sea of smiling faces, some expectant, but also with a sprinkling of agitated ones. I decide that these are the organizers in their final moments of tension right before the program starts. Because of the celebratory mood no one is unhappy; there is no reason to be. And then I see Bienvenido "Rico" Tantoco Jr. (or BRT to everyone else) and Johnny Litton, the evening’s indefatigable host.

These two gentlemen have recently lost their beloved sons: BRT’s Joel Tantoco and Johnny’s EJ Litton. I cannot imagine a grief greater than that of a parent who buries his child. There may never be words to describe the emotions attached to a loss of such magnitude nor can there be words to console the aggrieved. I watch them both closely and I do not see a trace of bitterness, nor defeat in their countenance. I see instead two gentlemen soldiering on in spite of all, working the crowd with their usual charm and grace.

 BRT is the president of Rustan’s Commercial Corporation. There is absolutely no one in his professional circle who has anything even slightly unflattering to say of him. He is highly respected, loved and admired by all. They say that even under work-related stress his better judgment and his leadership never waver, for that is his nature — even-tempered and steadfast.

I have had several opportunities to engage BRT and his wife, Nena Tantoco, in conversation, always in social settings, therefore brief but never forgettable. Separately, husband and wife are absorbing personalities: self-effacing, intelligent conversationalists who are full of warmth. Together, they are formidable. They will charm you off your seat because they come across as nothing short of genuine.

What remains my most salient memory of them took place during a friend’s wedding, when most of the over-50 age group had called it a night, and only the younger ones still burned up the dance floor with their energy. There the Tantocos remained, clutching each other during slow songs and gamely rocking out during the fast numbers. What was striking was not that they were both graceful dancers but that they looked into each other’s eyes the whole time — a truly inspiring sight.

I had mentioned this incident to Nena later, at the Rustan’s Essenses awards night, and she remarked it was true to form, because BRT remains a romantic to this day. It is obvious what sits at the heart of their relationship.

This was all before their son Joel’s passing. I don’t know if, as a parent, I expect to see some change in BRT that grief may have brought, but tonight, there is none of that. He delivers his opening speech (he personally writes every single one of his speeches; writing is a passion of his) with characteristic sincerity and aplomb. Guests abandon whatever it is they are doing for the duration of his speech. There is no idle chatter — he has always had that effect on people.   

 At evening’s end, a group of us find ourselves in a huddle with BRT.  Even up close, there is no bitterness. He tells us that, regretfully, Nena does not feel well and had to miss the occasion. He speaks of children, which brings a sparkle to his eyes. He says he loves Cebu and wishes to stay longer, contemplating a round of golf the next time he is in town. He elicits laughter from all of us as he recounts an anecdote about his masseuse at the hotel spa who confesses to being a fan of his fashion designer daughter-in-law, Hindy. This amuses him and he immediately calls his son Gippy, Hindy’s husband, to tell him the news. 

Earlier in the afternoon, while at the lobby of the Shangri-La Mactan, we bump into Johnny Litton, who is "Johnny" to all. He is, as always, ebullient. His son, the late EJ, was just as effervescent, if not even more so than his dad. But this is post-EJ and the world definitely laughs a little less. But within seconds of being in Johnny’s company, we are all in stitches. It is mind-boggling just how naturally humor comes to him and spreads to those within five feet of him. Some of Johnny’s jokes are off-color, others irreverent, but he is always a class act.

I think no one knows how truly short life is better than the humorist, because he is fully aware of how difficult it is to make people laugh and how fleeting the seconds are — the amount of time in which he has to prove his craft, to make an immediate connection with others. So we stand around him, and double up in laughter. We don’t speak of EJ, who was probably laughing along with us from a better place. 

At the launch, Johnny regales the guests and his talent reminds everyone just how time seems to flow faster, how experiences become more enjoyable with a little sprinkling of humor.

Inspiration is what I see in these two gentlemen, and courage, and dignity, and a reverence for life, which must go forth and go on, in spite of all.