Livestrong

I spent the entire weekend in Iloilo last week when my uncle Junjie passed away. As much as possible, I try to avoid funerals. They bring back too many memories of my departed grandfather, whose death almost 12 years ago I have yet to get over. And that I don’t really want to remember, those I knew in their last days on earth as dead. I want to keep my last memories of them as they were when they were still alive. My last memory of Tito Junjie was him walking into my room in Manila, while I was asleep, asking me to buy him a book on the Cushing sisters when I left for San Francisco for the holidays. Before then, I had not seen him in years, and after that short, groggy discussion I had with him, I did not see him until the day of his funeral.

I was not sad that weekend we bid him goodbye. It was more of that feeling of finality, when you realize something has come full circle. It’s almost a happy feeling in a very subdued manner. What makes a death sad is knowing that the departed has left without really living life. My uncle definitely did that. And for his bravado, all those who loved him were happy that he was finally finding peace in a place that he had been looking forward to seeing after his adventure had come to an end.

Many of us don’t really know what to do with ourselves while our hearts are pumping, lungs expanding and livers dutifully cleaning out the martinis we had the night before. We create mini scandales in our youth that cause us to recoil into obedient lame ducks in our later years. I knew Tito Junjie, despite our geographical distance, to be one of the most generous people. He gave without question wads of cash to needy hands; he also mistakenly gave those to the greedy. That did not deter him from helping others still despite the con artists around him. Instead of cornering himself in a spell of paranoia, he did not let the bad guys keep him from doing what he enjoyed most: giving anything he had to those in need. When the funds became less, save for a trust fund that took care of his needs, he remembers those days – when he would withdraw eyebrow-raising amounts from several passbooks only to give them away to people who sought his help – as the best of his life. Tito Junie and his Robin Hood days was his Pulp Fiction moment. He left a happy man, and as his funeral could have attested, he was not forgotten. How could such unqualified generosity be disregarded?

One inspiring person I know who up to this day leads a life of giving and sharing is my dear friend EJ Litton. He always knew what to do with his life. He is a good father, a loyal husband, a priceless son, and a dear friend to many. People are jaded these days, and when one encounters someone who is just so open, kind, welcoming and solicitous, it may cause someone to silently question his motives. Yet with EJ, even the most suspicious rapscallion is disarmed. There is no questioning the sincerity this man has.

I first met him at Stars, bastion of good and drunken memories. Our parents were good friends, but EJ and I only came to know each other in the art-deco halls of the famed boite. I was 18 then and 10 pounds chubbier. I was just glad to be out and about. I broke a glass filled with Green Destiny (what my friends nicknamed the Gimlet, our drink of choice then – a poor one, at that, so fattening to these chipmunk cheeks). I apologized profusely, and instead of admonishing me for being nuisance in his sophisticated saloon, he gave me a drink to calm my nervous and contrite self. From there, we would end the night sharing funny stories about our mutual friends, seeing who were making clowns of themselves that evening and pass around drinks filled with exotic liqueurs for our dear friends to belch at. He was like this to everyone. I was just one of those lucky enough to get really close to him and relish the sight of seeing someone so kind and unaffected, like a little boy excited to share his chocolate bar with the world. We all love EJ, we loved it that even if we were self-admittedly self-involved, here was someone who inspired us to crawl out of our cocky shells.

It did not end there. His generosity extended farther away from the heavy brass doors of Stars, and even when it closed. He was a friend that everyone cherished: to his staff, a man they admired, and to his children, an example of a man fulfilled through his goodwill towards others. It was with these acts of generosity that made one realize that in this acquisitive world, true fulfillment is not found in what you reap for yourself, but in what you give to others. It’s simple, sentimental and so not me to wax poetic about it, but it’s true. The happiest people I know are those who give without question, even if others do.

We wanted to celebrate EJ and his boundless heart now that he finds himself in trying times. He is currently battling with much courage his recurring cancer, all the while still organizing a concert meant for raising awareness on cancer for Kythe, and being the best dad and husband he can be. He is completely ceaseless in his bounteousness.

So, one night, we played little EJs and created a night where he was king, and to remind him that he had friends who love him as much as he unquestionably loved us. Louie Ysmael, another man of ceaseless denominations of the heart, opened the doors of his V to welcome the EJ fan club. The scene encompassed business tycoons, the hottest models, not to mention his former staff. This was the world he touched. Premier spirits poured all night with delicious cocktails as we snacked on the famous V caviar pizzas.

EJ Litton is the true example of a man who lived his life to the fullest and continues to do so in times of adversity. We love him and he has taught us many things that he will never know. In a world that seems to have everything, it is all nothing unless you share it with someone else. Giving is the only way to receive, really.

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Special thanks to Anton San Diego