Nicanor U. Libramonte

Dear Ninong,

It's so sad to learn of your passing. I wanted to meet you in my adulthood. I wish I had...the last time I talked to you (over the phone—I was just a kid then) I remembered how jolly you were and I loved hearing you laugh. I wanted to meet you then. I wish I've made the effort to reach out but I was too shy. It's too late for that now...funnily enough, even though we haven't seen each other since you held me in church while I was being baptized—I miss you. I miss you because I wanted to get to know you. You're my only ninong. And I could not forget how much I gravitated to…

It was not long ago. It was a lifetime ago.

It came first in a dream: a group of friends got together on a trip in a

red convertible and I hitched a ride with them. Along the way they

asked another but he couldn't join.

Years passed. One traced a path towards the heavens. Another

helped his fellowmen. Others live simply as god-fearing. So it was;

and their paths, once having diverged, joined again for they kept

their friendship alive. And that friendship, always in bloom, blossomed

more. In its fruiting came a new calling: serving. And the friends serve,

not individually but together for they are never several but are one. In

each of them is a common…