FLB: An honorable man

Except for the fact that he was one of the first appointees of then newly installed president Corazon C. Aquino and his career in diplomacy spanned 25 years, covering six countries under five administrations, I knew little of Ambassador Francisco L. Benedicto when he assumed his post as the Philippine Ambassador to China.

In the year before the pandemic, he asked me to write a book for him. I initially thought it was his biography. I have always been curious of his beginnings, family, businesses or personal interests. Instead, he wanted a coffee table book that would feature Cebu’s people and places – one that visitors or the next generation of Cebuanos could read, lightly and leisurely, or draw inspiration from. Aside from public servants, we agreed to highlight young entrepreneurs, start-ups and small business owners who remain in the shadows, like the fisherfolk who make Cebu famous for its danggit. He asked if I could write about Cebu’s pristine destinations outside what’s featured in travel brochures; or stories about the province’s Catholic traditions and spiritual leaders. I said yes to both.

He delighted in my suggestion to tap five budding writers from his eponymous school, Benedicto College, to be part of the researchers and writers’ pool. He didn’t want the spotlight focused on him. Yet the more he deflected attention from himself, the more I came to know him in the most respectable and deepest sense.

The news of his passing came amid preparations for my parents’ diamond wedding anniversary. In a span of four days, I was overwhelmed with joy and overcome with grief, witnessing both a wedding and a funeral. I had to make a trip from Sorsogon to Cebu.

The hubby called in the early hours from New York to break the news. Our voices sullen, eyes welling, we talked about the last time we visited him in Cebu before we left for our US posting. The hubby mused over how “he was like a father to me and how he promoted and introduced me as ambassador even if I have not reached the rank yet.” He looked back at his stint in China and how, away from the limelight and in his boundless compassion, Ambassador Benedicto had exhausted all efforts, staunchly negotiated and pleaded with Chinese foreign ministry, judiciary and party officials, even on weekends, to spare five suspected Filipino drug mules from death row. He was heartbroken that not everyone was saved, but perhaps he found consolation in the thought that two were spared.

As if in a duet, the hubby and I sang praises and traded anecdotes on how, when we were with “Sir,” as we respectably address him, he would expressly make each of us feel like we’re the most important person in the world. I mentioned how in the period of one year while working on the book, while shuttling between Jakarta and Cebu, I felt embarrassed when the ambassador himself would fetch me from the hotel lobby, which was always followed by lunch or dinner with his family, former colleagues in the DFA or some prominent Cebuano friends.

We wistfully thought of our post-Sunday mass lunches with him and his equally kind and reserved wife, Madam Leontina, or the spontaneous weekend trips to Beijing’s suburbs. One memorable event we organized under Ambassador Benedicto’s watch was “Pinoy Ako,” a summer camp at the Philippine embassy in Beijing that brought together children from the Filipino community through cultural immersion and heritage revival activities. I scrutinized our group photo at the culmination of the event and beamed at how Amba and Madam were a picture of doting grandparents surrounded by more than 30 rambunctious children, who the ambassador spoiled with sumptuous meals and treats in between workshops. I hope that, like my children, the participants in that camp still carry with them cheerful memories of their Lolo Amba.

On the night we paid our last respects to Ambassador Benedicto, the grounds of the Sacred Heart church in Cebu, where his wake was held, was a sea of hundreds of graceful white wreaths – expressions of love and homage to the man. My friend Fayette Canieso Riñen and I had to inch our way to enter the chapel. At mass, Fr. Jose Quilongquilong, SJ eulogized on “the kind of Christian kindness” the ambassador personified. He adored the ambassador’s “gentleness, altruism and selfless giving for the benefit of others.” He was “never a reluctant but always a cheerful giver.” Ambassador Benedicto’s spirituality is profoundly anchored on his devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, Mother Mary and the Santo Niño.

At the funeral mass led by Archbishop Jose Palma and 10 other priests, the priest-homilist said, “We are here not to mourn but to give thanks to the life of Uncle Frank,” referring to him as both salt and light. He illumined others “with his life of brilliance and integrity.” He was lauded not only as a patriot, a visionary, but also as an acutely devoted family man. Yet his daughter Emily believes, beyond being a diplomat and a businessman, her father was a “humanitarian – the highest and most meaningful calling.”

Ambassador Benedicto was humility epitomized and kindness exemplified, embodying a persona devoid of pageantry. I guess this is how FLB, as his initials are prominently immortalized, wished to be remembered. He charted his life so inwardly, so much so that in his death, all the good things he did came gushing out.

His funeral rites were befitting of a decent statesman and a dignified patriarch. He was laid to rest with the traditional gun salute, his flag-draped coffin surrounded by his family, all clad in black with the customary red sash accentuating their outfit. As his family and relatives bade him farewell with flowers, from a distance, I did mine with a prayer: a grateful contemplation for the gift of a lifetime – of having met and known Ambassador Francisco L. Benedicto, an honorable man.