MOURNING is part of human existence. I mourn for the death of Florante Evasco (nong Flor), my dear friend.
I first met nong Flor, brother of former cabinet secretary Leoncio Evasco, Jr., at the CPG sports complex in 2017. I learned he was a former district supervisor who also became a principal in several elementary schools.
Our conversations became more frequent because he had come to the sports complex almost every day, and I also have my daily exercise routine. He was also my neighbor, my confidant whom I shared my experiences as a college mentor who changed base in Bohol for another pursuit.
Nong Flor is a sports advocate and a former councilor of Maribojoc, his hometown. Before the pandemic, he started several basketball games as a sports coordinator in Bohol serving the Philippine Sports Commission. When he brought arnis to Maribojoc, he made me mentor this program.
Nong Flor has become endeared to me because he used to bring me to some of his activities, including his visits to Maribojoc, Catigbian and San Miguel. One time, he brought me to a fiesta visit at Baclayon. I also made some of his letter communications. When he bought a Persian cat at the pet store or consulted a doctor, he asked me to accompany him. So some of his friends say we are BFF.
Before the summer of this year, nong Flor shared he felt itches in his body and he could hardly sleep. We assumed it was allergy. I remember he bought anti skin allergy after his doctor’s consultation at Ace Medical Center.
However, his red spots did not go away. During the last time we met at a restaurant, I saw him going unusually thin. I wondered why he lost weight that fast.
When he went to the hospital several days after, I could not visit him because the hospital could not allow visitors without a PCR test for Covid-19. So I sent nong Flor text messages hoping to encourage him.
Then last Friday, an acquaintance said if I would go to Maribojoc for the tribute program of nong Flor. I did not expect nong Flor died on October 15, and was buried following the Covid protocol even if he was not really tested positive. Without knowing he already passed away, I even texted him three more times, hoping to send encouraging words.
I feel the sorrow of losing my dear friend and father figure.
I will no longer see him so I made a tribute to nong Flor in the following poem I penned which I titled, “You Walk Your Last: Tribute to Nong Flor Evasco”:
You walk your last. Your last.
News spread on the wings of the wind, a reluctant wind I did not expect.
Your morning walk has ended. Finally ended.
I say this because I spent routine walks with you
At the Plaza Rizal and the City Hall.
I will no longer walk with you there
And we, your physically active friends, now await you there
Yet blinded by your stark absence.
Suddenly, my world turns somber, skies leaden.
In my journeys, I will no longer see your visage radiating with goodness and care.
I will miss your usual retort, “Good morning, Doy”
Every time I greeted you with joggers and walkers passing by.
I will miss your counsels that brightens my valleys
As I shared my alienation and attempt to connect with my tribe.
You asked me to come and see your farm in San Miguel and Catigbian
Perhaps because you wanted to breathe the smell of rice fields and trees.
One day, you could not fill up the certificate of candidacy as provincial councilor
So you asked me to do it for you and I gladly do it.
You may have backed out from that plan, but even without becoming that leader
You are already a Hall of Fame in our hearts.
You drafted a letter so you can work as a consultant of the new governor.
Yet God has other plans.
Months ago, you lost weight and asked me to lunch out at the
Tuslob-Buwa restaurant.
Did you do it to show me how your health had declined and said it was allergy?
If I knew it was our last dine out, I could have told you the worst thing
that can happen
Is paradise for us who believe in the Lord’s redemption.
Your morning walk has ended.
Not only in the usual Plaza Rizal and the City Hall
But in every landscape where we wish you are around.
Your family and friends are speechless in disbelief
At the banging of that final door through which no pilgrim or morning walker returns.
I send my soul to teachers, principals and your fellow district supervisors
As they reflect upon their Cornelius in the book of Acts
Whom an angel said his prayers and gifts to the poor have come up to God.
To us you are not just Cornelius; you are sheep whom the Lord will say,
“Come… inherit the kingdom. For I was hungry, and you fed me…”
You walk your last. Your last.
Your day is done; we confess it in teary voices and say thank you
Thank you for illuminating our lives.
Thank you for your fatherly counsels and encouragement.
Thank you our Cornelius, thank you our heaven-sent cheerful giver.
We sculpt your portrait in our hearts.
