Aside from an appealing introduction, an alluring plot and a thrilling climax, a well-written story is not complete without an ending. When translated into film, the ending is the part when the last scene fades to black. On stage, it is the part when the star performer seals his brilliant performance with a gracious bow to the applauding audience as the curtain gently rolls down.
The world we live in is like a big stage. It presents a drama and every one of us has a role to play. Our scripts begin on the day we are born. As we grow older, we unknowingly write pages of events that form the book of our lives. Then, when the final chapter is fully revealed, the book closes its covers.
There was a remarkable old man whose wizard-like eloquence in telling stories made me feel like a child listening to a fairytale. It was a delight to watch his expressive face as his baritone voice narrated his riveting life story. The anecdote of his adventure in the deep forest of the Philippines when he was hunting for wildlife was very fascinating. The suspenseful account of his experiences with the invading Japanese soldiers is one of my favourites and certainly put me on the edge of my seat when I heard it. Every conversation we had was always wrapped up with a promise of another episode. And in his own words, he would say with his infectious smile, “Sa susunod uli,” which means “to be continued.”
Sadly, that next session did not materialize. My dear old friend, whom I got accustomed to calling Tatay, became gravely ill and passed away. On January 12, 2009, at the age of 82, he faced the final curtain of his life and breathed his last.
My stubborn admiration for the man refused to accept that his story had ended just like that. ....No. Not that way. He was a wonderful man and he deserved a better ending. So I took upon myself to produce a short video tribute which was centred upon his deep love for his family. Every passing image was a reminder of how he lived a contented life. And just before the last frame faded to black, a smiling photo I took of him on the first day we met appeared on the screen, then, gradually drifted away into the colourful sunset backdrop, to join up with his loving parents who predeceased him. This is what I believe he would have told his ultimate journey.
The book is now closed and the curtain is down. My friend, Celestino G. Yokingco left our world with a heart-warming memory that I will always cherish. And to all of us who are still here, let us enjoy the most of what life has to offer. We too will reach our end.
You can watch his farewell video by clicking the link: A Song For Tatay Tino
