A funeral, a book launch, a dying kapok tree & a family reunion
Relationships are essential to life. They are the cornerstones on which happiness and self-discovery are built. In their growth are personal rewards and satisfaction. Relationships provide us with friends and family to share our joys with — even our sorrows.
I was 16 when I first forged a deep relationship in 1988 with the UPLB Com Arts Society, an organization of students at the University of the Philippines in Los Baños whose purpose of excellence is not only scholastic in nature but also filial. It was in this organization where I found a home away from home in college. To love the “Soc” was not taught; it was felt by the members themselves.
Every accomplishment of the Soc was celebrated — amplified, even: its hurts and pains, shared by the members.
For example, on the eve of the Feast of the Archangels this year, Dyno Atienza, our beloved “brod,” was invited by God to become an angel in heaven. It broke our hearts. He died of a heart attack, the same heart he used to love us with. We were inconsolable. In his passing was a thread of golden memories shared with him in the Humanities Steps of UPLB when we were students, in our many parties where we all took time out from our busy schedules. Our friendship did not take “busy” as an excuse to be absent from any Soc gathering. We just showed up — announced or unannounced.
On the night Dyno died, I kept a vigil in my silence, in deep thoughts, in fervent prayers. He was 49 and many moments of his life he shared with us. He even shared his family with us for he brought his wife Iggy (also a Soc member) and their two children Inigo and Elise to our get-togethers.
He had welcomed many lives to his life; and in them he contributed a piece or two of inspiration. His were shoulders to cry on, arms to keep others warm, and hands to readily give comfort. Selfless, many times. Loving, all the time.
Dyno, a prolific guitarist at his church, the Lighthouse Christian Community, was love and loved. In his laughter were the many joys of the UPLB Com Arts Soc — pure yet irreverent at times. It was in this stance, however, that reverence was also achieved, for only a joyful soul can create happiness that is long and lasting.
Dyno is a beautiful memory made more handsome by the kindness he left us with. There will always be an empty chair in many a gathering of ours. There will always be that skip in our heartbeats when we celebrate him — his life, his joys, his dreams.
***
On the day Dyno’s earthly remains were laid to rest, a book launch of a Com Arts Soc brod was taking place. If Dyno were alive, he would have been at the Gateway Gallery in Quezon City, too, to congratulate Jerry R. Yapo, known simply as JRY in the UPLB community, on his “unputdownable” book Artfully Speaking & Other Essays, published by San Anselmo Press.
JRY was my newswriting professor. Erudite, with a deadpan sense of humor, no-nonsense yet caring in his own quiet way, articulate yet with tact that was the springboard of diplomacy — all that and more are what he is, are what his book is all about.
A few months before the pandemic, JRY sent me the manuscript of the book. I was floored. I devoured it and came up with this blurb for Artfully Speaking:
“JRY has the distinct ability to make the reader ponder and meander with this hard-to-put-down collection of essays. His language is honest and lyrical. You see his life, his values, his soul.
“His aptitude to merge folklore and humor in this collection is a result of his seemingly gentle and genteel nature. NO magic realism takes place anywhere in this book, yet enchantment is found in every story.
“His prose, generously served with his pastoral and citified introspection, is a gift — for you and me.”
A favorite essay in Artfully Speaking is “In Loving Memory” where JRY chronicles the life and death of his parents. It’s a memoir told in 19 paragraphs that lilts with hope and lounges in love. It tugs at the heartstrings because the essay shows that no matter how old one becomes, one would always need one’s parents. Jerry tells the abridged biography of his parents with love and aplomb.
“The death of our loved ones sanctifies memory, and words are not enough to make sense of their passing,” JRY writes in the beginning of “In Loving Memory.” It is an essay, yes. But it also melts the heart to make it solid again.
***
On the topic of “making sense,” my heart was disheartened when I learned that the famed century-old kapok tree (Ceiba pentandra) in UPLB is dying. Many in the UPLB community and its alumni are saddened because in the imminent demise of the tree are memories and dreams that took shape while witnessing the tree carpet the whole campus with its snow-like cotton blooms.
Summertime in UPLB is also its “wintertime” when the kapok tree begins to shower the field with “snowflakes.” It’s a spectacle. Hyperboles notwithstanding, the “snow show” is spellbinding because the light, little plumps of cotton gyrate from the tree to the verdant grounds of UPLB like a million and one white fairies ready to make the students’ dreams come true.
However, according to a report of the UPLB, “it looks like nature itself has caused it to deteriorate to its current state and is deemed by tree experts as hazardous to life and property.”
The same report said that it “suspected the tree to have been hit by lightning…(that) caused the health of the tree to deteriorate.”
Goodbye to the kapok tree.
***
Dreams are important for a relationship to grow. When dreams materialize, they ought to be celebrated.
My contemporaries in the Soc and I were dreamers when we were in college. We knew that when we finally achieved our ambition, it was inevitable for us to part ways. We did. But we always knew the way to each other.
Mulong Palis, a very dear friend and Soc brod now based in Australia, came home last Sunday to celebrate with the rest of his brothers and sisters to honor the life of their mother, Nanay Viring. Nanay Viring succumbed to COVID last year and not all her children could go home to attend her funeral because of the pandemic restrictions.
I witnessed how Mulong and his six other siblings celebrated life when I joined them in Tagaytay last Monday. There was so much love in every moment. Each sibling lives his or her own life in different parts of the world yet they remain glued to each other. They talk about their late parents and honor their memories — funny, heartwarming memories.
Memories are their own morality. They are the compass: the reason why people, despite their loss, magnify their gain. The Palis siblings vow to be a blessing to each other. Their cordial relationship is the prize they will always claim.
I am blessed with the wacky and warm relationship I keep with them. *
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