I heard from at least three people from batch 99 about Sir Archival's passing about a week ago and was invited to his wake at his home in Minglanilla where I know I would see him lying lifelessly and yet peacefully pale garbed in his last wardrobe on his deathbed. I could not respond to the text messages neither to the offline chat messages not because my cell phone had warned me to check my operator services or that my messenger has been disabled for whatsoever reason, but because I did not know what to say. Until now, I'm still left dumbfounded by the fact of his passing that I could barely compose my thoughts into writing. The only phrase that comes to mind is this: people come and go.

I thought it was a more familiar line way back my senior year when I completed the two-month training to become one of the "police officers" in high school. I was too naive then when I searched for a piece of paper torn from the pages of a notebook with Ernie's words scribbled in size 64 upper case fonts found atop the office door with the words of the inevitable fact of life. Little did I know that the line would etch its every letter in my heart every time I lose touch of a loved one more so lost them in this world and in this lifetime. That thou-shall-not-speak-of-it word called death.

Let's admit it. No one wants it. No one wants to face it. Imagine having to deal with death and risking yourself not coming back breathing neither heart beat pulsating, but dead!? Everyone fears death, or at east unwilling to believe it would come to them soon. How would we know? Who are we to know? Not even the smartest Neanderthal can predict his extinction.

In my solitude it often crossed my Cro-Magnon mind. I even dreamt about the nature of my death. It was accidental - hit and run. I crossed the dark streets of somewhat Subangdaku, Mandaue to pick up a pen only to be run over by a speeding public utility jeep that sent me shooting off into the vastness of night skies like a cannonball would skyrocket into the air, slowly loosing momentum and rapidly plummeting back to earth in a fall that would have ended my life. At that half second speed while I was flung up high I felt my body going numb, eardrums almost bursting out of pressure, and I can literally hear my heart pounding its last beats until I heard none and saw nothing but pitch black void. I felt my weight had gone out of me most probably because the body had died and the spirit is all that’s left, somewhat floating around like a speck of dust in the air.  I felt my non-existence. For once I knew how it felt like to be lifeless and free. No worries (since heartbeats do not matter now), no pain (since the body is gone now), no pollution (since I do not breathe now), no nothing at all. That’s when I began to panic. For some reasons I managed to wake myself up and seeing my self panting on my bed was ironically a relief. Huh? I would have finally made that great escape but I evaded it? Boy was I dumb, I thought. But then again it was just a dream so until then I will have to keep on living.

Now that another person who have touched my life in ways I never thought would have influenced somehow my way of thinking had ran out of time, the only regret I have at this point is not having the chance to know him better as a person, other than a mentor. I could never forget a few lifelong lessons he imparted to me. He was innovative, wise and practical. He taught me (or I think a few of us in class) how to use eyeglasses as matches or lighters (he used his own to light his cigarette or at least that’s the way he does it ever since) by allowing the sun to hit the lens and focusing the rays of light into one point of contact so the heat would accumulate enough to burn a piece of paper (or a cigarette for that matter) after some time. Too bad I couldn’t apply the theory since I don’t smoke. I recall how he taught us that the unbalanced pairing of ions could infuse static electricity. Physics is how it is. No one could better make me understand the subject matter more than he can. I can only wish there are more like him who care for knowledge and imparting them to as many as he can in his life time. Unfortunately he had gone too soon to even get a chance to touch the lives of my soon-to-be offsprings. And then I sigh. I sigh with regret and relief. Regret in the fact that a man who made a difference in our lives had passed us by for good and relief in knowing that he had dealt with the sufferings in this world and surpassed them so that he can finally be at peace with our Creator.

Hats off to you sir Archival! Kudos for a well-lived life and God speed wherever you are.