Proof of Life

Cooped up for 25 straight days (20 days inside a hospital room and 4 days inside a funeral chapel), I lived in a different world.  

Instead of sunshine, fluorescent lights; instead of fresh air, cold air from an AC unit; instead of bird tweets, monitor beeps; instead of speeding cars, rolling cots; instead of playing children, hurrying nurses; instead of careefree chatter, careful whispers. I can go on. 

In all those 25 days, outdoors—as God designed it—nature breathed grandeur and splendor.  

I was surprised to see the plants and trees in and around our garden much taller, more robust, and in full bloom. Proof of life—of grace; of God’s existence in and around us; of the beauty and reality of God; of our passing from death to life. 

Tony loved plants. In his younger years, he would tend to them himself. He must have passed down this DNA to son #3 who had our garden landscaped just before our trek to the hospital. How these florae have come to life and grown in 25 days!  

“Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life. He does not come into judgment, but has passed from death to life.” John 5:24 ESV

A Key Chain without a Key

Valentine’s Day was no big deal to both Tony and me. As adman and adgal, we hyped this day for our clients to increase brand awareness and sales. 

Tony would always say, “I can give you a gift or flowers anytime I feel like it—not necessarily on February 14.” 

And so it was. 

He would offer to pay for my purchase on rare times that he had accompanied me shopping. Typically, he'd say, "That should take care of my future/past Valentine’s Day gift for you.” Sometimes, he would pluck a flower at our garden and give it to me, which in turn I would give to our househelp with a  request for her to pick a few more for our vase.  

That was our version of romance. 

As expected, this past Valentine’s Day caused the price of flowers and Valentine's cards soar. As expected, messages of love peppered the Net days before.  

What was unexpected was a gift—not from Tony but about Tony—from one of son #3’s master’s students. 

Son #3, thinking perhaps I would treasure it more, gave it to me. 

He is right. 

This key chain, with his rare solo photo we used for all messages about his last days, I will treasure by itself, without a key . . . because it is an unexpected, thoughtful gift from someone who never knew him but knows his son. 

And his (and my) son knows me well. 

That was Valentine’s Day, the first one since we saw Tony off on his journey toward Jesus, toward the grace of life. 

"We love because he first loved us." 1 John 4:19 ESV

The Grave: A Week After

One of my brothers, who lives in Australia with his family, could not be with us for Tony's end-of-life celebrations. They kept in touch closely, though, through frequent messages and the eBurol (online 24-hour-real-time viewing facility of the funeral parlor, below). 

A week later, he and his wife made the trip and requested to visit the grave. Together with two more siblings and a sis-in-law, we drove over.

There are moments in life that mark a division between the past and the future: one season is over; a new season has begun. 

And one such moment is the death of a loved one. A cemetery plot is a signpost pointing in two directions: our past life with him, and our future life without him. 

So why do we visit the grave? 

John Piper, a Christian author I often read, gives seven reasons. By comforting grace, I am now reflecting on them:      

1. To weep. It is right that the tears flow in the graveside. 

2. To be sobered by our own mortality. By our loss, we can accept the brevity of our own life that remains.

3. To rekindle the fires of hope for resurrection. The grave can stoke our hope of being with Christ. Beneath us is a body that will decay, “. . . sown in dishonor; it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness; it is raised in power.” (1 Corinthians 15:43 ESV) 

4. To meditate. From this painful vantage point, we can ponder upon the meaning and purpose of life. It is a precious time, and there is much to learn.

5.To express respect and honor. Our presence is saying, “I pay tribute to you and to God who gave me the privilege of knowing you (as a kin, friend, peer, or spouse). 

6. To give thanks. We can no longer communicate with the dead. So the grave is a perfect place to feel and say our thanks up to God for making him a part of our life.  

7. To be inspired. God promised us in Isaiah 41:10, “. . . fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

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A Small Note and a Big Basket

In life, Tony was a big tipper. He made sure he tipped service people, even if the job had been minuscule. He never explained why, but having lived with him for 54 years, I knew he was empathetic and sympathetic—and kind (this word repeatedly came from messages of comfort and notes of remembrances from people he knew). 

Every Christmas season, he would see to every cash envelope left by messengers, collectors, mail persons, and various service men and women, whom we had dealt with during the year. 

He’d always ask, “Did you give him a tip?” 

“Yes, of course!” 

But once, when he asked me the same question, I replied, “No, I didn’t. He is an officer of the company and the owner of the car. There was no company driver available, so he drove me himself.” 

“You should have offered to pay for the toll fees or gasoline,” he insisted. 

“Uncle!” 

On our 7th day in the hospital, he told me to take eight 500-peso bills from his bag at home.  He didn’t say it, but I knew they were meant to be tips for those who had been attending to him and patiently following his requests. 

I happened to mention this to a friend, a nurse. She was appalled, “Oh, no! You don’t tip anyone with cash in a hospital. It’s unethical.” She suggested instead, “any token—snacks, food, little gifts—but never cash.” 

I immediately went shopping for those.  

After 20 days in the hospital, while at the wake, my sons and I wanted, but didn't quite know how, to thank the staff that came in and out of hospital room 406, bringing comfort, assistance, and hope. 

A small note and a big basket, a  joint idea of the boys and me, will never be enough. 

These are simply a sincere token of our profound gratitude. 

We pray for grace, for God to be with them as they continue to serve more patients. 

"The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace." Numbers 6:24-26

My Father Had Two Families

That was son #3’s opening statement when he spoke of his remembrances of Tony during the necrological service at his wake. 

Many must have held their breath waiting for a bombshell. 

“First,” he said, “was our small family—Mom, my two older brothers and me.” 

I looked down, unable to hold back my tears. 

“Second, Prime Advertising systems, Inc., the company he founded and loved. It needed most of his time, except weekends, which he spent with us.” 

ooo

Son #3 was still in my womb when Tony took another big risk (the other one, he often joked, was when he married me). 

With hardly any savings . . . two sons going to a private school . . . me, big with child . . . he resigned from his job as Vice President in an advertising agency and put up his own, Prime Advertising systems, Inc. Just in time, I got a raise in my job in another advertising firm.  

Hardworking, humble, simple, transparent, straightforward, with uncompromising ethics and values (his staff’s words, not mine), he hired people who shared his vision and mindset.

I kept away from Prime (we were competitors after all) and went to his office only when invited: Christmas parties and anniversary celebrations. He, however, took our sons often with him to the office during school break, perhaps to model what hard work was like.  

On Prime’s 20th year, Tony borrowed my print of Matisse’s painting, which I bought from a sidewalk near Louvre, for a commemorative plate sent to clients and suppliers.  

From a babe in the womb to a lawyer, son #3 saw his father divide his time between Prime and us. 

Somewhere in between, we moved to a new home (a humble one where we still live in today, four decades later), sons #1 and 2 graduated from the school of engineering and school of medicine, and Tony went through major life-threatening medical surgeries. I retired from the corporate world and embraced writing. 

Prime stood pat. 

With new technology, advertising had morphed into a stranger—theories he and I both thought as gospel truth were now hogwash.  

In 2015, son #2 talked Tony into closing the shop. Which he did slowly, one person at a time, over the next two years because, “I don’t want my people to be suddenly displaced.” 

Prime was 33 years of Tony’s life.

At his wake, a number of his former staff, who call themselves Primates on social media, traveled from different places to say good-bye. 

Oh, the many heartfelt tributes they wrote and said for their former boss! Oh, what grace! Indeed, Prime was not just a bold business venture, it was Tony’s second family. 

A fan of Elvis, Tony was gifted by his staff on his 70th birthday an Elvis standee, with his face superimposed. Everyone wrote his greetings behind it. Knowing how much he treasured this creative present, we brought it to his wake. (Photos show some Primates. Others came on other nights.)  

A Flock of Angels

A flock of angels swooped down to help us from the first day of the year 2025; these angels are still hovering around, looking out for my family and me.  

After 11 blog posts on our January episode, I am still packing and can’t stop singing praises and thanksgiving to the One who sent these angels. It is now February, but the previous month can’t leave my mind. 

Day one was when I needed help to being Tony to the hospital while my sons and driver were far away attending our clan reunion. Angels upon angels (faith brethren and friends) came to drive us, stay with us, pray for us, and comfort us. 

Day 20 was when we moved from the hospital to the funeral home. More angels made the change of venue easier for us. 

Day 26 was when we brought Tony’s earthly remains to the burial site for the last rites (ESV): 

“By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread, till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; for you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Genesis 3:19

“All go to one place. All are from the dust, and to dust all return.” Ecclesiastes 3:20

Without enough sleep and therefore lacking in acuity, I was lost. My sons were given angel wings to take the wheel.    

The members of our home church took charge of logistics: the women’s group oversaw the food for guests (marketing, cooking, serving, cleaning up, and everything in between); one went out of her way to buy us our funeral clothes; the pastoral team and other ministry groups handled the necrological services and other details.

My siblings and their families rented an Air B&B near the funeral home so they could be at Chapel 506 all hours to be with us for five days, and fill in the gaps. 

Like those in the hospital, the members of the funeral home staff anticipated our needs.

Close kin (a niece and her husband) documented significant moments with their camera.  

My sister never left my side; she kept us company in the family room of Chapel 506 and nine more days after the funeral. 

I could feel the presence of these angels even in my stupor. How can one not believe in angels? 

"The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him, and he delivers them." Psalm 34:7: 

"For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways." Psalm 34:7:  

On my knees, Lord, I thank you for sending us this flock of grace.   

REUNION(S): Let Me Not Count the Ways

Before 2024 ended, we had packed for our annual clan reunion (Mom's side of the family). It was our 80th year, a milestone not to be missed. But the night before our trip, Tony begged off. “Go and have fun. The long trip would be too strenuous for me.”     

Months before this, although he appeared confident and strong, he would tire easily, and catch his breath. With his comorbidities, these should not have been a surprise, but we were alarmed. 

Together with sons #1 and #3, I made a decision not to attend the reunion as well without telling him, because he would surely balk. 

On January 1, as sons, kin, and driver were all at the reunion, God sent angels to help me take Tony to the hospital and keep me company. He had difficulty breathing again. Our pastor personally came to pray for and with us. 

There he was confined for all sorts of tests and medical procedures. 

On the 20th day, with his mind lucid as ever, he left us calmly, quietly. His serene face showed none of the pain he might have felt during his last days--never to return. He took his journey home to our Savior.      

We moved from hospital Room 406 to the funeral home Chapel 506. 

And our 80th clan reunion happened again.  

Here, those who attended the reunion, including those who were not able to, came in droves to hug and condole with us, and say goodbye to Tony. Many of them surrounded the organist and sang hymns like a chancel choir, sounding like heavenly angels for over an hour. Guests stayed longer to listen.

Over the next four days until his earthly remains were laid to rest, flowers, gifts, cards, and food arrived with kith and kin for many more reunions: 

• reunion with Tony’s childhood and current friends, neighbors, village officials, former staff, Rotarians;
• reunion with his clan--both paternal and maternal sides;  
• reunion with my dad’s kin and friends;
• reunion with son #1’s friends, peers, colleagues;
• reunion with son #2’s colleagues and friends; 
• reunion with son #3’s school (administrators, deans, members of the faculty, and students); 
• reunion with my former and present colleagues, old friends, BFFs, chat  groups, my publishers, and officers of the school where I teach;  
• reunion with present and former members of our home church; 
• reunions, reunions, reunions.  

Chapel 506 was always filled with care and comfort to the rafters from morn till night, even after the necrological services. Many attended the burial rites as well. Tons of photos are still pouring in from many corners, but these are all I have filed for now.  

Between those reunion times, my sons and I were kept extremely busy, and left no time for me to blog, yet I had to (my grief buster)—and, I wrote, “some kind of closure.”   

But a concerned friend wrote back: “There will never be a full closure as long as we have memories. It's God's way of reminding us that completeness can only be from his comfort and providential care . . . all by grace. 

A grand reunion, to cap all reunions, will happen at an hour nobody knows—and that will be a time of forever glory! 

“O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” For sin is the sting that results in death, and the law gives sin its power. But thank God! He gives us victory over sin and death through our Lord Jesus Christ.” 1 Corinthians 15:55-57 (NLT)

The World’s Two Toughest Questions

As Tony fought for his life in the room with a view, concerned family and friends stayed by our side through comforting messages online and by phone, with assurances that they were praying with and for us. 

Two of the QUESTIONS they asked were: 

1) How is Tony?

2) How are you?

These were inevitable questions from people in our close circles, because we remained unseen. Much as they wanted to, they could not come to the hospital. Tony allowed no visitors; he refused to be seen helpless in bed, dependent on a medical staff. Had he not vowed “for better or for worse” before God on our wedding day, he would have shooed me away, too. 

My one-word, honest answers to the two questions that I kept in my mind were downers.  

1) Bad. 

2) Sad.

To replace those words, I had to carefully select from my word depot. But in moments of sadness, my depot was empty. So I blogged, focusing on blessings and sent these to them. 

These two questions persisted till our 20th day.   

Looking back, I am grateful that they were repeatedly asked. I believe that through these questions, the Lord had been reassuring us of His grace. 

What Jesus said to Paul, who complained about his thorn in the flesh, is also meant for the bad and the sad.   

“. . . My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Corinthians 12:9