Kuya Dario, 61

I was back in Lucena this weekend to bury a beloved Uncle, Kuya Dario.

He was the one who opened my love for the arts and photography. When I was little, we would go to their house nearby where, inside, several paintings were hanging, as though in a museum. And I was forever awed. There were paintings of his children, Kuya Cheno and Ate Leah, and landscapes ala Amorsolo. He entrusted me with his brush one time, when he was doing a billboard (back when billboards were still made of wood and paint). He did the outline of the letters and allowed me to fill them with paint as one would a story book.

He showed me the first ever SLR camera I have ever seen when I was a kid. I didn't know how it functions then but I remember telling myself that one day soon I would learn how to use the camera. In college, when an opportunity to enroll in one of those electives were offered, I enrolled in a photography class making good my promise to follow up on a childhood fascination.

As we grew up and my cousins and I transferred to Manila for work (some are still there) Kuya Dario's special role in the family did not change. He was, at the time of his death, the surrogate father to my pamangkins. Francine, now 5 (or 6?) has been blessed to be given this attention.

Francine called her "Tatay" and it was Kuya Dario who named her "Mot-mot" owing to an eye infenction she used to have when she was little.

When Mot-mot's family comes over to our compound (where the ancestral house is located and we're living in) on Sundays, Kuya Dario would peek into their house and as if on instinct, Mot-mot would know he was there. Mot-mot would grab her slippers and immediately ask Kuya Dario where they would go.

Until the time of his death, my cousin, Miled, did not know where Kuya Dario and Mot-mot went for their weekend date. "Sa tabi-tabi lang," Kuya Dario would answer when Miled would ask where they had their lunch.

At the wake, Miled recounted, people she never knew would ask her if Mot-mot was the tisay little girl that Kuya Dario would bring to a restaurant in the town proper, Golden City.

"Alam mo, mahal na mahal ni Dario 'yang batang 'yan," Winston, the tricycle driver who brought Kuya Dario to the hospital when he had his attack, told Miled.

After the burial yesterday, Miled said that Mot-mot had reminded her to bring the watch Kuya Dario had given her. But Miled, somehow forgot, because they were in a hurry.

Mot-mot, I thought, was holding on to the last gift Kuya Dario has given her and wanted perhaps, to tell his Tatay, before his graveyard, that she would forever keep it.

But do kids ever comprehend death. After Kuya Dario was buried, Den-den, his first ever apo said, "Na, na (Wala na), tatay," he seemed to be informing us as if to tell us that he understood. There was no sadness, however, in his eyes, perhaps only acceptance that some things do end.

When Den-den grows up, we will remind him of his Tatay and how well he loved him. One day, perhaps, when he's old enough to access the Internet, I would show him this.

Because such was Kuya Dario's generosity. There were so many gifts, tangible and otherwise, that Kuya Dario gave us. For that, and the memories, he shall forever be remembered.