to live, to love, to learn, to leave a legacy… and to laugh along the way
What began as a simple transfer for the sake of family placed me in a unique position to witness – up close and personal – the tension, the uncertainty, the courage, and the hope that unfolded during the historic EDSA People Power Revolution of 1986. It was a moment when history ceased to be something found in books and became something we lived through, those fateful days that would not only be the country’s pride, but would be a model for many more countries in the years that followed.
Life has taught me that growing older is not necessarily about abandoning ideals. It is about learning that truth rarely belongs entirely to one side. The fire of youth seeks to change the world overnight; maturity and the mellowing of years understand that conflicts are infinitely more complicated. I no longer see the world through the rigid lens of left or right. Time, experience, loss, and service have softened my perceptions. In the end, perhaps growing up is not about surrendering convictions, but learning to carry them with balance, wisdom and the humility to see humanity even in those we may have once called the enemy.
The best lesson basketball has taught me? That life is meant to be lived, not just survived. Yes, there will be missed shots, bad passes, tough losses, and days when nothing seems to bounce your way. But there will also be joy and laughter in the locker room, friends who celebrate your smallest victories, and moments so satisfying you wish the clock would stop.
Fifty years have lapsed in a heartbeat, yet I can still smell the pine-scented air of the Academy, and feel the frantic thumping in my chest as we marched down those “51 steps.” We were just boys then – naive, unsure of ourselves, and miles away from the families who waved us goodbye at Camp Aguinaldo or elsewhere. We didn’t know that we would be stripped of our civilian antics and molded into the leaders we would later be. Today, the echoes of those barking orders still reverberate as cherished stories of old men, but the fire lit that fateful April Fools’ Day will never waver.
If I close my eyes, I can still hear the echo of those days – the creak of the tartanilya’s wheels, my mother’s whispered prayers tucked into the din of the church bells, even the frenzied sounds of children playing during recess. Those early memories provide moments of innocent laughter that fill my corner of the world with so much life. These moments of loving and learning settled deep into my young child’s heart.
I open my life book with a vow, not a vow of perfection, but of presence: to show up honestly, to listen deeply, to act with small kindnesses that hopefully will ripple outward, and to leave behind a trace of light for those who follow. If my life were a compass, may its needle remain steady in the winds of change, guiding future hands toward a brighter, more compassionate path.
Color My World 