IN MEMORIAM
During the past two weeks, I was saddened to hear about the demise of three people who were a part of my life in ways that they or those close to them may never have imagined. What exacerbated the feeling of loss was that I got to learn about their passing after their remains had been brought to their final resting place, and thus made me unable to pay my last respects to them. Through this note, I hope to make up for the failure.
Dr. Ledivina Carino was only my professor in one subject at the then UP College of Public Administration, and one which I was not even able to complete. It was a always a pleasure, unlikely as it may seem, to engage in discussions with her in class as it was always stimulating and enervating. Beyond that, I got to meet here several times thereafter during the CCP’s attempt to come up with a law prescribing an Artists Career Service. Representing the University in our discussions, she would guide our proceedings with efficiency in ways that were warm and convivial. It was not too surprising that she would shepherd the UP volunteer program in its early years, as she had been an advocate of volunteerism as a way of giving back to the University and to society. I was looking forward to seeing and conversing with her again, only to be shocked upon reading about her passing in an issue of the U.P. Newsletter I had just happened to pick up.
It was a similar shock to see the face of Dr. Ma. Concepcion Alfiler on a poster with the words “In memoriam” below it. While I was not her student, she was College Secretary during the first year of the Civil Service Commission Local Scholarship Program and therefore practically as the “mother hen” of the first batch of scholars in the College of Public Administration. She was very concerned not only with ensuring the success of the program but more so with every one who was part of it. After that, she would always exert effort in inviting the alumni back for College activities, and would always be welcoming whenever one of us would come and visit. I knew she would have wanted to see me back in the College, and I felt pangs of guilt not having been able to give her the satisfaction of knowing.
Mrs. Linda Soriano Martinez was not my teacher nor a relation, but I have always treated me like a son. Back in those days when I was still in my teens and imagining I was Freddy Eynsford Hill walking on the street where then lived the girl of my dreams, she made me feel welcome every time. I remember when she (and her husband) chanced upon me (with my friend Jorge who was my constant walking partner at the time) seated at the curb close to their house and insisted on us coming home with them, and then being served hot soup while she kept teasing me about my intentions for her daughter. While nothing came out of it, it seemed like nothing had changed when we saw each other last some twenty one years after. She greeted me as if time and circumstances had not intervened and even extended an open invitation to visit her anytime, one that now regret I never took. When I heard that she had passed on, I felt regret and remorse for not having kept in touch.
So this may be a confession of culpability for not having done those deeds that may have made a difference to them. And even if they may not, let this be my way of saying thanks to them, belated as it may, for having made a difference in mine.
Dr. Ledivina Carino was only my professor in one subject at the then UP College of Public Administration, and one which I was not even able to complete. It was a always a pleasure, unlikely as it may seem, to engage in discussions with her in class as it was always stimulating and enervating. Beyond that, I got to meet here several times thereafter during the CCP’s attempt to come up with a law prescribing an Artists Career Service. Representing the University in our discussions, she would guide our proceedings with efficiency in ways that were warm and convivial. It was not too surprising that she would shepherd the UP volunteer program in its early years, as she had been an advocate of volunteerism as a way of giving back to the University and to society. I was looking forward to seeing and conversing with her again, only to be shocked upon reading about her passing in an issue of the U.P. Newsletter I had just happened to pick up.
It was a similar shock to see the face of Dr. Ma. Concepcion Alfiler on a poster with the words “In memoriam” below it. While I was not her student, she was College Secretary during the first year of the Civil Service Commission Local Scholarship Program and therefore practically as the “mother hen” of the first batch of scholars in the College of Public Administration. She was very concerned not only with ensuring the success of the program but more so with every one who was part of it. After that, she would always exert effort in inviting the alumni back for College activities, and would always be welcoming whenever one of us would come and visit. I knew she would have wanted to see me back in the College, and I felt pangs of guilt not having been able to give her the satisfaction of knowing.
Mrs. Linda Soriano Martinez was not my teacher nor a relation, but I have always treated me like a son. Back in those days when I was still in my teens and imagining I was Freddy Eynsford Hill walking on the street where then lived the girl of my dreams, she made me feel welcome every time. I remember when she (and her husband) chanced upon me (with my friend Jorge who was my constant walking partner at the time) seated at the curb close to their house and insisted on us coming home with them, and then being served hot soup while she kept teasing me about my intentions for her daughter. While nothing came out of it, it seemed like nothing had changed when we saw each other last some twenty one years after. She greeted me as if time and circumstances had not intervened and even extended an open invitation to visit her anytime, one that now regret I never took. When I heard that she had passed on, I felt regret and remorse for not having kept in touch.
So this may be a confession of culpability for not having done those deeds that may have made a difference to them. And even if they may not, let this be my way of saying thanks to them, belated as it may, for having made a difference in mine.
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