Of Milestones, The Love of a Wife and of Friends Who Believed

My view of what legacy to leave my daughters has always been blurred. I always thought writing was my core gift, so with speaking. It was on them where I pinned all my hopes of opportunities opening up and finding one that will bring about what I wished to bequeath my children. But they remain hopes at best.

So when someone broached the idea of seniors biking all the way to Baguio, I immediately went for it. I thought it will be an experience worthy of a blog, which may somehow lead to getting this writer's work noticed. Hope rekindled.

But if it remains a hope, that I pedaled all 270 kilometers (of which the final stretch is the agony that is Kennon Road) is something my children will talk about for years to come. Even friends will view Baguio much differently now knowing one of them took on the challenge of biking it with nothing much going for him but his heart.

More importantly, trips to my father's home in Benguet will take on a much deeper meaning.

This will be my legacy.

However, through the excitement was the reality that my body now aches in so many places, my bike needs quite a number of parts to make it worthy of the journey that is ahead of us. There is also the bigger issue of funding.

But the love of a wife knows no bounds. Cecille, through her heart, saw what was deep in me, the hopes I silently keep. Even with the countless people she wishes to bless this Christmas, she promised I will fulfill my milestone.

And then there are the few special ones who believed, who were as excited I will be doing this journey. More than friends, they, without being asked, quietly pooled their resources so I can fulfill my personal goal and then help others fulfill theirs. For there are others who are looking towards their own milestones but are in want. Now they will complete theirs with me.

Though initially I was only looking at completing my quest, in the end I had my plate really filled. More than a journey of self discovery, this trip revealed much of what was meant for me.

Now I know that all which is profound, all that carries much meaning, all that will ring through the ages can never be done alone.

In this trip I discovered that it is the voices of those who love you and those who believed in you echoing in your heart that will keep you pedaling up that mountain, no matter how difficult the climb might be.

I discovered that it is the enthusiasm of friendships born along the way that pushes you when the legs are on the point of giving up, their laughter that refreshes you, your second wind.

I discovered that it is the wisdom of those who passed this way before that makes you take notice of God's wonder that surrounds you, humbles you, making you complete.

I discovered that in the midst of indifference that now envelopes the world, there are still people who believe that all we do we can because there is an Almighty looking down on us and is eternally interested.

 True, no one does it alone.

Looking back, I never imagined I will actually do it. Up until November 26, it was all but a dream. Sure bikers half my age had actually done it and in a day. Yes, it can actually be done. But none at age 52.

And happen it did. A milestone fulfilled all due to the love of a wife and of friends who believed.

Truly I am blessed.

May Bukas Pa (There Is Still Tomorrow)

I wrote this as an email to a group of close friends last August. I am putting this up on this blog hoping that, just like it did them, it may do those who visit some good. Think of it as my own personal gift.


It's December and we maybe busy running around looking for the fitting Christmas present to those who means much to us. But as the Fox in The Little Prince said: "What is essential is invisible to the eye." For, indeed, it its.....

How many of us actually watch “Agua Bendita”? My wife is a fan and no matter that the story has branched into so many agonizing and confusing twists (masalimuot best describes it), Cecille, often times with Carmella, would watch it.

I don't. Am not on my high horse here but I think I have had too many bad news to end my day with another one. Let's face it, these dramas offer nothing but more sad news. Which makes me wonder what does it have that most Filipinos find it as a fitting means to cap their already hectic and strenuous day. This query has actually been asked in an earlier blog.

But more than the story, what gets me silly is the theme song: Malayo Pa Ang Umaga (for my english speaking friends this literally means "morning is still far off"). Forgive me but I do not see the connection. Another theme that also presents something confounding is the now defunct May Bukas Pa of the loveable Santino fame.

I think these songs offer something that each of us long for: Hope. Now here comes the shocking part: hope it may be but I think it is all misplaced.

Before you start deleting this email, allow me first to present my views.

A few weeks ago an aunt died. She was living in a small nipa hut situated at the back of a nephew's lot, which leaks a lot when it rains. For all the goodness that she represented while she was still strong, it was truly an unfitting end. She had enriched the lives of those she touched and yet she passed away destitute. It was heart wrenching.

Another nephew lamentably regrets not visiting her while she was alive.

This sad event got me asking....

How many of us expressed the same regret when someone who we love suddenly passes away? How many of us painfully wished we can turn back time? How many of us remain tormented because we failed to do what we should have done when we can still do it?

Malayo pa ang Umaga and May Bukas Pa may express hope of things getting for the better tomorrow. It may even indicate faith in what is good.

But often, because there is tomorrow, we tend to postpone the good that we can already do today. Because Malayo Pa Ang Umaga and May Bukas Pa we hold back on our embraces, on our kisses, on our love expressions, on dear moments.

Because Malayo Pa Ang Umaga or because May Bukas Pa, we became complacent.

And then it is all too late.

Like anyone else I have hopes for tomorrow, too. For starters, I picture tomorrow as “collaboration day”, when someone would finally consider my writing skills, ask my contribution that will lead to a literary work and then get remunerated for doing what I love doing.

I picture tomorrow as a day where my gift of gab becomes a channel of blessings for others who are still trudging along their own journey of illness.

But today I will not hold back. I will never hear of Malayo Pa Ang Umaga or May Bukas Pa for it may be too late then. Today I will enjoy the blessings I have received, to hug as much as I can, kiss those I love as often as I can and tell them I love them, bless them, have fun with them, listen to them, feel them, enjoy them.

Today I will tell my father I love him.

I will look forward to hearing Cecille's stories when she comes home later today.

Today I will teach my daughter the Roman Numerals.

And I will, right now, send this email to you guys for you have been a blessing to me, too. Holding it for tomorrow may just be too late.