By Nora Soriño

ILIGAN City--It was Friday, the13th. And it was Friday the 13th really with its negative connotations for the believers.

As I passed through the office door here, the morning of that day, Sita met me with a piece of sad news: “Tatay is dead!”

It did not register in my mind immediately. For every senior citizen is “tatay.”

“Who’s tatay?”

“Tatay Frank.” She was now crying. As the statement sank in I was on the verge of crying myself.

“When did this all happen?”

“A few minutes ago. He’s in a hospital now.”

“Call the hospital and get the details,” I said trying to hold back tears in an attempt to regain my composure by holding my head high now. I had instinctively sunk my head to my table after I had sat. And the few tears that really opted to come out fell into a hand that had supported my head on the table.

I walked out of the office, announcing I was taking lunch. That was to avoid a “crying session” there inside the office. For Frank too was an office feature from time to time though he stayed inside only briefly; the guy was in a hurry always.

We had then learned that the guy had gone to his hometown in Tukoran, Zamboanga del Sur. That was on the 11th. He had gone back to this city on the night of the 12th. He had brought with him a sack of rice from Zamboanga, for the family, we learned. On the morning of the 13th, he then went out of his house early for the morning duties as a media man.

He could not make it to the rendezvous place, at a resto with other media persons. As he alighted from the jeepney he was riding on, he fell face on the ground. Concerned citizens then took him to Dr. Uy Hospital, the nearest hospital from where he fell.

Dr. Dara Balbontin, who attended to him said that he was DOA. No medical procedures could revive him. By the way, I had known this doctor from way back in Cagayan de Oro when she was just a seven-year-old kid, running through some side street just like any other kid with running noses, though I think she did not have a running nose then.

Before that Zamboanga trip, he had gone to Kadingilan, Bukidnon along with other media persons as among the volunteers in giving relief goods there for the people in the area that suffered from the quakes in Mindanao in November.

And yes, after that and before that Tukoran trip, he was among the press people coming to Jojo Borja’s ranch-type house. The Borja guy, to note had several mouthfuls to say about the increases the Iligan Light and Power, Inc. imposed upon us hapless consumers of electricity. Ilpi to note is run by Uriel’s cousins, but this is another story for another day.

After that presscon, Frank had to hurry to another forum among media personalities which was about “paperless reporting.”

And then, as I said, he had to hurry for that Zambo trip.

Frank was really full of energy. Among some memories with him was that “Iglesia ni Cristo” in 2017 at the height of the Marawi siege. I had requested him to do the writing then and he obliged. This was about the assistance the INC gave to Marawi people affected by that siege.

And yes, once, I requested him too to do the “paperless” aspect of a short story I had written in between some lazy moments, in a “paperful” form as the publisher required it to be in paperless form, with several specifications. This was for a contribution to a book in one of the good universities here in Northern Mindanao.

This July 1, along with three others so there were four of us from this bureau, Nene Lachica, Sita Asequia, myself and him attended the 30th anniversary of the Mindanao Gold Star Daily. There, we gamely mixed with the whole Mindanao family fathered by Ernesto “Toto” Chu with mother Bebotte. That was fun.

These are just among the fond memories of Frank, the ultimate media man.

But mind you, he too was a man of contradictions, like many of us mortals. Through that facade too of a simple, loving family man was a person who looked longingly at other skirts. I mean, at other pants inside shapely and even not so shapely legs and thighs. To the dismay of wifey Felipa who monitored him now and then.

And who knows what went on in that domicile of theirs?

At any rate, it’s curtain time now for “tatay Frank.” Please take these flowers, tatay, as a requiem even as it is a celebration too for a life well-lived. I’ve read in some psychology book that if you do extreme things, in your subconscious mind, you really want to end it all. And too, I remember some quote that runs like this: “ I was always in a hurry but one time, death overtook me...”

God speed, Tatay Frank. Soon one by one, we will follow too. And there, maybe, “true happiness will follow,” as a song goes.