"GOOD morning, Manong!"
This was how I usually started my day in school--with a greeting to Manong Tero, a guard at Stella Maris College since the 1970s.
He was truly amazing. He knew all the students by name. He memorized the different sounds of car horns and signalled to us when our "sundo" had arrived. He knew our parents and our yayas. He was like a father to us.
When I was younger, I was very sickly. That was when I started to appreciate Manong Tero.
He would carry my bags for me all the time, especially when I was having an attack of asthma. One time when I had my period unexpectedly, it was he who crossed the street to buy some sanitary pads for me. And when I had some problems concerning the school, friends or family, he would listen patiently to my endless whining and ranting and then offer his advice, which most of the time was correct and useful.
Needless to say, I was emotionally attached to him. Heck, all of us were. He really was the best.
One day, I was surprised to see Manong Cesar on duty on a Tuesday, which was usually Manong Tero's shift. I asked him why he was there, and he told me that Manong Tero was very sick. He said the doctor had found a fast-growing tumor in his brain after he suffered a mild stroke. I was shocked.
Soon the bad news spread all over the campus. We told ourselves, we had to do something. We passed around donation boxes. Former Stellans organized a fund-raising party for Manong Tero's benefit. Fortunately, we were able to raise enough money for his brain surgery and other medical needs.
Manong Tero got through the operation just fine. He was sent home after a few weeks to fully recover.
When we heard this, we rejoiced. Our prayers had been answered. Our efforts were all worth it. Everything would be back to normal soon, we told ourselves.
But then life can sometimes be so unpredictable and absurd. One morning early this March, I was awakened by the ringing of my phone. There was a text message saying Manong Tero had died.
We learned later that while he was recovering from his surgery, he developed pneumonia. That was the cause of his death. Manong Tero is now officially gone.
Death. Departure. Bereavement. End. Loss. Transcendence. It doesn't really make much difference however you call it. They're all the same. Too bad it had to happen. I never imagined Manong Tero gone. I had gotten used to seeing him there in our school, being a friend, a fatherly figure, our hero. What really sucks is that when you get so used to something that's when it has to end or go away. More than that, it leaves you wishing you had done something more for him.
Don't you just hate it when people die? You tend to muse a lot and ponder the meaning of life.
From Manong Tero's example, I have learned two valuable lessons. One, don't hate, but instead appreciate. It's better to tell yourself, "I found a new friend today" instead of just wishing you had talked to that bubbly salesgirl. That salesgirl could've been the angel of bargain-hunting or something. If you skip that one chance of getting to know her, next time you come around she may not be there or, worse, she might have died. So, take chances. You will never know if that janitor you smile at this morning would be your lifetime mentor. Manong Tero looked like just any other security guard, but hey, I found a father in him.
Two, when you love someone, push yourself to the limits and give your everything. Manong Tero had no problem in the "loving department." He was a good man. He loved his job, his family, his friends and maybe even his enemies. And he lived a good and happy life.
Manong Tero will never leave us. He will always be there. He'll be our inspiration and remain our hero. One day, we we look back on our years in high school, we will be laughing and crying at the same time while reminiscing on what Manong Tero was like. We will tell our kids that once we came to know a noble man, a legend, a hero.
For me, Mang Tero's death was hard to understand and accept because we still need him and we love him. But, I guess there is no telling what life will deal us. And all my regrets and whining will amount to nothing. He is gone, and nothing can change that fact.
But of one thing I'm certain: Manong Tero went straight up to heaven. Another good guy is up there.
This was how I usually started my day in school--with a greeting to Manong Tero, a guard at Stella Maris College since the 1970s.
He was truly amazing. He knew all the students by name. He memorized the different sounds of car horns and signalled to us when our "sundo" had arrived. He knew our parents and our yayas. He was like a father to us.
When I was younger, I was very sickly. That was when I started to appreciate Manong Tero.
He would carry my bags for me all the time, especially when I was having an attack of asthma. One time when I had my period unexpectedly, it was he who crossed the street to buy some sanitary pads for me. And when I had some problems concerning the school, friends or family, he would listen patiently to my endless whining and ranting and then offer his advice, which most of the time was correct and useful.
Needless to say, I was emotionally attached to him. Heck, all of us were. He really was the best.
One day, I was surprised to see Manong Cesar on duty on a Tuesday, which was usually Manong Tero's shift. I asked him why he was there, and he told me that Manong Tero was very sick. He said the doctor had found a fast-growing tumor in his brain after he suffered a mild stroke. I was shocked.
Soon the bad news spread all over the campus. We told ourselves, we had to do something. We passed around donation boxes. Former Stellans organized a fund-raising party for Manong Tero's benefit. Fortunately, we were able to raise enough money for his brain surgery and other medical needs.
Manong Tero got through the operation just fine. He was sent home after a few weeks to fully recover.
When we heard this, we rejoiced. Our prayers had been answered. Our efforts were all worth it. Everything would be back to normal soon, we told ourselves.
But then life can sometimes be so unpredictable and absurd. One morning early this March, I was awakened by the ringing of my phone. There was a text message saying Manong Tero had died.
We learned later that while he was recovering from his surgery, he developed pneumonia. That was the cause of his death. Manong Tero is now officially gone.
Death. Departure. Bereavement. End. Loss. Transcendence. It doesn't really make much difference however you call it. They're all the same. Too bad it had to happen. I never imagined Manong Tero gone. I had gotten used to seeing him there in our school, being a friend, a fatherly figure, our hero. What really sucks is that when you get so used to something that's when it has to end or go away. More than that, it leaves you wishing you had done something more for him.
Don't you just hate it when people die? You tend to muse a lot and ponder the meaning of life.
From Manong Tero's example, I have learned two valuable lessons. One, don't hate, but instead appreciate. It's better to tell yourself, "I found a new friend today" instead of just wishing you had talked to that bubbly salesgirl. That salesgirl could've been the angel of bargain-hunting or something. If you skip that one chance of getting to know her, next time you come around she may not be there or, worse, she might have died. So, take chances. You will never know if that janitor you smile at this morning would be your lifetime mentor. Manong Tero looked like just any other security guard, but hey, I found a father in him.
Two, when you love someone, push yourself to the limits and give your everything. Manong Tero had no problem in the "loving department." He was a good man. He loved his job, his family, his friends and maybe even his enemies. And he lived a good and happy life.
Manong Tero will never leave us. He will always be there. He'll be our inspiration and remain our hero. One day, we we look back on our years in high school, we will be laughing and crying at the same time while reminiscing on what Manong Tero was like. We will tell our kids that once we came to know a noble man, a legend, a hero.
For me, Mang Tero's death was hard to understand and accept because we still need him and we love him. But, I guess there is no telling what life will deal us. And all my regrets and whining will amount to nothing. He is gone, and nothing can change that fact.
But of one thing I'm certain: Manong Tero went straight up to heaven. Another good guy is up there.
by Katrina Buganan
