The Gift
Life is a gift. The ultimate mystery of life lies in its beginning and end. For every starting point, there is a finish line. A life starts. The same life ends. That’s how it is. What happens in between — a series of man’s actions or inactions in response to the gift given him by God — is just necessary.
Life and death are gifts on opposite poles; they meet in time. From each point of life is a celebration. On Dec. 10, I found myself at the birthday celebration of Tita Connie Alimagno; her family is party to what I am now, to what I reap now because I was their scholar in high school, those days of my many wants. Those were the days when my parents, who were farmers, could not afford P50 for my monthly tuition fee. The following day, Dec. 11, I was saying a prayer for the soul of Mr. Raul Lapaz, a friend and colleague at St. Vincent’s College of Cabuyao (SVCC), where I am a part-time instructor, who passed away due to heart failure. In both occasions, a celebration was held — one, for a life meant to be further lived well; the other, for a life well lived.
That life is a gift can be seen in the eyes of Tita Connie. My best friend Christine Dayrit and I were the only “family members” at the Japanese dinner who were not Alimagnos. The Alimagnos are God’s gift to me because their benevolence to my ambitious 12-year-old self has been a gift I keep nourishing, that I keep celebrating. Gratitude, pardon the cliché, is the language of the heart. I only have a grateful heart for them. And I expressed it again to Tita Connie and her husband, Tito Ed Alimagno, an architect, their children and grandchildren, at her intimate birthday party. The joy written on Tita Connie’s kind face was enough to light up a room. With her family, she celebrated the gift of life.
That death is also a gift can be seen in the hearts of Mr. Lapaz’s wife and children. Yes, there was pain in their hearts due to the untimely passing of Mr. Lapaz but they were somehow consoled by the sea of humanity that attended his wake. In the coastal barrio of Mamatid in Cabuyao City, the throng that went to pay their last respects for him was enough to create traffic that was almost at a standstill. It was touching to see students wiping away their tears. Mr. Lapaz was a well-loved instructor of Psychology and Art Appreciation at SVCC for years. In their eulogies, the mother-daughter tandem of Marina Chavez and Jan Chavez Arceo, owners of the school, said that Mr. Lapaz was a pillar of SVCC and his passing “would create a big dent” to the college. The family of Mr. Lapaz was consoled by their relatives and friends. With them, they celebrated their father’s gift of life.
In essence, life and death are the same. Life continues to be the gift that keeps on giving. Death is a springboard of life to those who are left behind.
I celebrate the gift of life because if it were not for this gift, my dreams could have died. If it were not for the scholarship afforded me by Tito Jun Alimagno, a businessman who became mayor of Cabuyao and the brother-in-law of Tita Connie, there was a risk for my dreams to flicker away. But like love at first sight, their action kept my dream afloat, made me believe in the kindness of strangers, fortified my resolute will to succeed in life. They believed in me on the first day I was brought to their office by my grade school principal Mr. Ulpiano Barrientos and Math teacher Mrs. Virginia Hermano and class adviser and English teacher Mrs. Adelia Nido-Galang. Tito Jun just looked at my card, handed it to Tita Connie with a kind instruction: “I-enroll na si Tenorio sa Cabuyao Institute (a private high school). Bilhan na rin ng mga bagong libro.” There was no catch to his immediate gesture. Only, he required me to give my best shot. I obliged. I cherished the gift.
Mr. Lapaz is a friend I would always celebrate. He had a big leap for a small guy. And he leapt in and out in the lives that he touched. He was kind and funny — a welcome combination cherished by his colleagues and students. His heart was gold; in it kindness resided. “Keep on teaching. We have an obligation to the young minds to keep them inspired and good people,” he told me many times. He did not scrimp on praise “because people need validation. It’s free.” He spread kindness like confetti. He put joy in his deeds, hope in his dealing with others, and inspiration in the way he conversed with his friends.
“My father taught us to help others no matter what their status is in life. He would tell me that he always looked for the positive in every negative situation in the classroom. He made it his style, in his sincere way, to encourage students to be the best they could be. And if still they could not give their best, he would look for the best trait of his students. And they loved him for that,” said Raul Juni Lapaz.
Everybody will experience life and death. Those who have experienced death in the family will agree that a certain kind of grief is felt — sometimes fleeting, but many times, especially in the beginning, lingering. But in time, pain and sorrow are turned into memories that serve as anchor for the loved ones left behind. The best thing about memories is that they become the lighthouse on nights when the heart and mind ache for illumination. Memories are a moral compass; they point to your inner mantle and fortify your core. Memories are bankable fortresses when we need to make important decisions, when we need to fall in love, or fall out of it. Memories give us a perspective of the destiny we wish to pursue, of an ambition we still want to accomplish.
A beautiful life, if you closely go into introspection, is a beautiful preparation for a beautiful death. Because death, in itself, is life. So, a birthday and a funeral are meant to be celebrated.
Happy birthday, Tita Connie. May you further inspire the lives of many.
Happy crossover, Mr. Lapaz. Thank you for your gift of life. *
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