"And I can't go back to yesterday..."
---Boyz II Men, in their cover of "Yesterday"
A full year has passed since the passing of Miggy Baluyut. I was deep into my holiday to properly remember him on the 10th, but I did some thinking over the past few days about the beauty of his life.
The Miggy I best remember was that summer of '95 when we spent what could have been a lifetime volunteering for Namfrel. For many of them who were still in school, it was a great break for them. I had work at the time, so participating in Namfrel meant the night shift.
We sang "Yesterday" for TV reporter Vicky Morales during one of those breaks in the morning when nothing was happening. We were all young and carefree, and most of us who were smoking at the time took in the air and breathed the magic of life. Especially Miggy.
I always believed Miggy was one of those immortals because he loved living life. His emotions were always on the outside. He hardly held anything back. That kind of living was infectious. Until recently I had lived my life in compartments and kept some part of myself in reserve. My reticence, I surmise, stemmed from my upbringing where on the one hand one could have a surplus of frustration (care of my mother) or swim the depths of mystery and a tightly-coiled anger (care of my father). Miggy was one of those people you would say would only regret his life because he didn't think things through.
(Edit - January 17: I don't want people to think that life with my parents was bad. On the contrary, life with my family was all good, particularly because of our tests and trials. Of course, there are some things one would notice about one's parents when looking at others. I accept the way things came out, though of course, like most work of human hands, they could have been better.)
He could never regret a life that was filled with the grand passion of being alive. That he was, in a way, cut down before he had reached the age of 30 is still a mystery to me.
I don't believe the justification that his life had completed its purpose. A life like his, which was teeming with possibility, could never be static and thus conveniently pigeonholed. Therefore, there was always something he had wanted to do but never got around to doing. Neither do I believe that he lived in excess, and as such burned the light of his life too soon.
It was just a life called back by God, because it would serve to instruct those who remain.
It's a lesson on living TODAY, not for yesterday. The Lord will take care of tomorrow, because tomorrow will come soon enough.
See you around, parekoy!