After more than a week of computer abstinence, the weekend news that my power adapter was finally available for pickup left me, to stick to understatements, extremely delirious. But the excitement of seeing my computer light up with life was dampened by the news that two people I had known at some point had breathed their last: former Senator and presidentiable Raul Roco and my grandfather's best friend.
The computer death story is interesting enough on its own so it should warrant a separate entry. Besides the life and death of machines and people may be disparate but not in all aspects. Machines, for one thing, run on electrical power and as long as there is the presence of such a power source, generally speaking, there should be no problem. The same is true with the human being although the power source in this case is almost equivalent to the human soul. As long as the soul and the body are one, there also should be no problem...generally speaking. Once the soul departs, the body becomes useless except as detritus feeders' fodder. When my laptop adapter died on me, I had to rely on batteries for the next two hours or so but soon when the batteries ran out, pressing the "Power" button did nothing but make the indicator lights blink for about quarter of a second then go out. It was like watching doctors trying to revive a patient using a defibrillator. The jolt given the body is so strong that the entire exercise almost seems violent. Defibrillators are meant to save people from the brink of death and sometimes people get a flicker of hope when they see tiny wave patterns in the heart monitor but when the tiny wave patterns appear for a fraction of a second and disappear into a thin flat line again, nothing more can be done.
I addressed my grandfather's best friend with the same degree of respect I gave my grandfather. Several times, my Lolo recounted to me how Lolo Etic saved him from death, even putting his own life on the line in the process. When Lolo Etic was debilitated by a particularly nasty stroke about five years ago, my grandfather was greatly affected by it. There was always the grim possibility that he would die at any moment. My grandfather's love for his friend was unquestionable and they had gone through so many things in their lives that my entire lifetime could never make me fully comprehend what Lolo Etic meant to my grandfather. During the weekend, he was carried off to Heaven in the hands of Jesus. He died quietly while receiving Holy Communion.
My sister was particularly saddened by Lolo Etic's death because she felt that our grandfather had lost one of the last links to his time. Among his brothers, he is the only one alive. He was also particularly close to his brothers-in-law but only two are living. Most of his contemporaries in the law practice have already passed away. He has a very few bosom friends left. To put it cinematically, my Lolo is the Last of the Mohicans (Daniel Day-Lewis) or The Last Man Standing (Michael Douglas, I think!). My sister thinks that this was a moment in his life that Lolo must have felt alone. Aside from that, it made the reality that Lolo's turn was coming very soon all the more evident.
I do not have a granite heart beating within my rib cage so I naturally understand her sentiments. If my sister chose to look at it from the point of view of solitude, I would rather see it from the perspective of legacy. I am not saying that death is the ultimate bad guy who snatches people's souls like a thief in the night and stuffs them in a roughly-spun, grimy sack, not to mention bearing a heavy-looking sickle at that. But I am absolutely sure that people would want to spend more time on this Earth with family and friends before actually moving on to a higher place. I said to my mother "I'm sure heaven is a great place but people there would not be hypocritical enough to say they would have wanted to spend more time here on Earth despite the fact that we're practically wallowing in misery."
This brings me to Raul Roco. My cousin Barbie texted me last Friday, informing me that Roco, touted as the greatest president the Philippines NEVER had, had succumbed to cancer. I was stunned when I heard the news primarily because I had never heard that his condition had gotten worse after his cancer remission went public during the 2004 election frenzy. He was even one of those who called for PGMA to resign following the "Hello Garci" controversy.
But then Roco was not one who usually tried to draw attention to himself. Perhaps the only thigs conspicuous about Roco would be his brightly-colored flowery shirts. His lineup during the elections consisted of the least popular candidates. He sincerely believed in change and I have always been amazed by his brilliance. I admire his usually calm and composed exterior. Unlike other politicians who resort to shouting, screaming and basking in the brilliance of their bald heads, Roco's speeches were like fire racing across water, clear and mild but equally fiery. The first time he ran for president in 1998, I wanted to vote for him but then I was not yet of the the required age. In 2004, he ran again and when he announced his bid for the highest seat in the land, I made up my mind to vote for him without batting an eyelash.
Meeting Raul Roco in person is a memory I would forever hold dear in my heart. As I read the newspaper articles which announced his death, I could not help but cry as I remembered seeing him in person when he was hot on the campaign trail. I had seen his campaign ads several times but everytime it came out on TV, I'd drop whatever I was holding, watch it and start getting tears in my eyes. I was in the province for vacation with my parents. We were eating an all-seafood lunch in my favorite restaurant when my mom and my dad met a doctor-friend of theirs who turned out to be Roco's campaign manager in our area. He excused himself but came back after a while with Roco himself. He greeted us with a warm smile and there I was staring at him, as if I were a kid seeing Santa Claus, never mind that at that moment he looked jolly, had a rather rounded tummy and wore red. My parents were introduced and he shook my dad's hand and then my mom's. I do not really recall who introduced me to him because my mind and my tongue seemed frozen. It's like meeting someone you've idolized for so long but the major difference in this scenario was that it was totally unexpected. All of my normal body functioning seemed to be focused on only one thing: to gawk at Roco as if I were brain-dead. Even breathing seemed to be forgotten, thank God it's an involuntary action. The next thing I know he turned to me and held out his hand. At that moment, all of my sense came back and I froze for a moment of indecision. Minutes before he sauntered into our table, I was literally diving into my food, having abandoned my eating utensils for a severely sloppy rendition of hand-to-mouth existence. Everything on my plate was practically greasy it could have violated Newton's laws of motion - crabmeat, fish, fried rice, buttered shellfish. So my hand was a sticky mess of the combinations of the food mentioned above. Oh crap, I get a once-in-a-lifetime chance to meet someone I've idolized for so long and all I can offer him is a slimy handshake! I let out the most stupid smile ever and apologized, saying my hand was dirty. But he said something like it was all right and it would be unwise and impolite to refuse so I shook his hand. I was so happy I immediately texted my aunt and my friends. I was just so sad later on that, first, I did not have a picture taken with him and, second, I had to wash my hands a little while later. It is even sadder and more regretful to note that at the last minute I did not write his name in the "President" blank in my ballot because of the news about his ill health.
Roco's death has left another gaping hole in the very small throng of people who compose the guardians of Philippine morality. I have always believed in his integrity and dedication as a public servant, especially in his adherence to the truth. He was an idealistic man and, at times, even ambitious in his efforts to carry out authentic reforms in a society which pessimists proclaim is going to the dogs. I laud his courage for choosing to work for the good of the country even when he is very much aware that in doing so, what he would meet would be disappointment and discouragement in their purest forms. Conrado de Quiros wrote in his column that Roco believed in the Filipino, that there is a lot of good in our race despite all the negative comments slammed into our already mangled faces. He believed in the Filipino's ability to make the right choices, even if money runs our present society like a power generator. All in all, Roco believed in hope for a supposedly doomed country but emphasized what all of us already know but refuse to hear: that true change for society can only be effected when the person himself initiates a change within himself.
Roco deplored about the state of our country but he singled out the fact that young people today lack the proper figures to look up to. Of course, a mango tree cannot bear apples inasmuch as demons cannot bring forth angels. But young people need someone to follow and emulate and since they cannot have the taste of the best, they settle for what's better or good. Bette r and good are all right but they are not the best. In our current circumstances, it is not a remote possibility that we are emulating what's bad (ranting madwomen), worse (organized crime masterminds) or even the worst (plunderers and sons of plunderers with superiority complex and really long nails for more effective tenacious clinging to power). His death leaves a void which would take a long time to be filled and his legacy as a good leader would never be enough to heal society but, to quote Roco's son, the seeds have been spread and, I believe, have taken root. You don't have to be president to do that.
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