I have known you since I entered the Minor Seminary in Tabaco City in 1985. You were just a regular guy, a normal seminarian who would always try anything just to be able to keep up with the rigors of seminary formation. An exceptionally funny guy who can make our strict formators laugh.
We were able to finish our high school formation, though you were a year ahead of me, and met each other again in Sipi, Daraga, Albay for our college formation. Just the same, I can say that you were one of those guys whose absence was always noticed by many, if not all. We did everything that ordinary seminarians would do. Yes, we studied a lot, prayed hard, enjoyed our games, drunk a lot of gin, and smoked cigarettes secretly. But we both got caught because our disciplinarian then, Fr. Julio Santelices, was just like a CIA agent. I was lucky to have been pardoned by our Rector then, Msgr. Ramon Tronqued, who told me that a Rector is more powerful than a Prefect of Discipline. So, you were sent on a regency after your second year in college.
I did not know much about your seminary experiences when you re-entered the college seminary. I can presume that you were just the same George whom I knew years before your regency.
I was ordained a priest in 2000, and you were also ordained some years back. You lived your life as a priest in utter simplicity and resiliency when faced with problems especially the financial woes of a priest assigned in a remote and lonely parish. Knowing you, I always knew that you would seek for a solution to that loneliness thru the help of San Miguel, not the saint, but Ginebra San Miguel. With your body tired with all the parish works and saturated with alcohol, you had a severe stroke which left you tied to a wheelchair.
Because of your condition, the Bishop decided to consider you a semi-retired priest. You still attended our gatherings, though limited, but you would always try your best to be present to be one with us, your brother-priests. I would always see you flashing your signature thumbs up sign and your untiring laugh which mirrors the peace the tranquility within your life. You still preached to us through your smile and nice gestures of positivity that we can battle all the storms and typhoons in our priestly ministry. Your smile will always be remembered because it left a lesson which is hard to learn by a physically normal priest.
You taught us a lesson to never give up on every trouble and struggles that we must encounter. You taught us so well that we have a very loving God above who is always looking down on us to help us in our every need. You taught us the lesson to never complain even if we are filled up to the brink of our tolerance.
I always felt happy every time I see you face to face, and I will always call you “Jord” because it is the right name for you (George, Jord with S is in the plural sense), and you would just laugh it off. Every time I feel down with problems and other negative things, I would always think of you because you were in a sadder state than me, and yet you always managed to show that untiring smile on your face. You taught me how to be strong, my brother, and I will never forget that.
You breathed your last breath last night after suffering another massive heart attack. For sure I will miss you. All I ask from you is to help me to always smile and just simply laugh off all problems and evils that surround me. Help me to possess that strength to always continue with my life even if it is filled up with so many negative baggage and to have that positive outlook in life that you had always shown. Rest well, my brother, in God’s Kingdom. No more pains now, Fr. George.