The national outpouring of love and support for Dolphy, the Philippine’s undisputed King of Comedy, has been most heartwarming. In the media and on social networking sites, everyone, young and old alike, has something wonderful to say about the legend who has been part of our homes, our culture and our lives for as far back as we can remember.

Truly there is no one like him.

I was most touched by one of my friends who is an undersecretary at the Department of Education. His post read: “He made so many of us laugh through many years! I remember my dad taking my brother and me to see his movies and to watch his TV shows together—from “El Pinoy Matador” to the “Fifita Fofonggay” series, to the “John ‘n Marsha” hits! We saw all of those and laughed so hard… and bonded with our father. He just loved you! Mang Dolphy, thank you. By making us laugh together, you gave us precious shared experiences with our dad. May you feel the consoling presence of our loving and faithful Father at this time.”

Indeed, that was Dolphy’s gift to all of us—laughter, and a chest filled with memories of our younger selves bonding with our families at home across our television sets or in the cinema.  His timing is unmatched, and his quiet presence on-and off-screen always made him larger than life.

‘Living wakes’

The outpouring of love and prayers, though, reminded me of a comment made by my mother, who is also part of the world that Mang Dolphy moves in. While attending a eulogy for a family friend last year, she said, “Look at that. Pakinggan mo. Why do they say all these nice and wonderful things now that the person is gone? When she can no longer hear it?”

Why do we wait until a man or woman is often hovering between precious life and death before we let them know of our admiration, before we express our love and appreciation for them?

A few weeks ago, in this paper’s “S” section, Gilda Cordero-Fernando wrote about the “living wake” that she had held for herself, attended by a few of her closest friends. I thought the idea was fabulous, morbid though it may have been.

Back in 2003, I had the chance to interview Marisette Galang who was in her early 40s then and had been battling breast cancer for close to seven years. It’s an encounter I remember to this day. I first heard about the idea of living wakes from Marisette. She showed me her plans for a living wake that she was about to hold later that year.

“I know I’ll be going soon, so I’d like to get all my dear friends together and hear what they’ll say about me when I’m gone. It’s like a rehearsal for the actual wake, when you think about it.”

She was smiling and calm when she told me all about her plans, and there was a peaceful air about her. The living wake pushed through and, after a few years, Marisette passed on very peacefully.

On a smaller scale, a high school classmate from Maryknoll, Cathy Roxas Garcia, passed on last Thursday after an almost 10-year battle with breast and bone cancer. Cathy was very blessed in the sense that all throughout her illness, she was always surrounded and supported by her family and her high school and college friends.

“Friends taking care of friends just like family is always such a gift and wonderful thing,” one of our classmates wrote.

Two lessons

The lessons that came to me this past week were two-pronged: One, never wait until it’s too late to tell the person how much you appreciate him or her. Say it while they are still around, when they can hear you and feel the love you have for them. Second, we need to be mindful and grateful of every moment given.

Today I came across a quote from Michael Landon, the Hollywood actor who passed away at the age of 55 from pancreatic cancer: “Somebody should tell us right at the start of our lives that we’re dying. Then we might live to the limit of every minute of every day.  ‘Do it,’ I say. There are only so many tomorrows.”

The present moment is all that is guaranteed, so live kindly so that when you find yourself in the pre-departure area of life, hopefully, you will be surrounded and sent off by all the lives you have touched. And in the event that you take leave suddenly, you will be remembered only with love and great fondness for the kindness and generosity you shared while you were still here.

E-mail the author at [email protected].  Follow her on Twitter @cathybabao