Until We Meet Again, Tito Boy

The past few weeks have been incredibly heavy. I recently learned that Tito Boy — one of my most trusted mentors and ever-supportive Titos, despite no blood relation — has been diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer. After my dad passed, he stepped into my life so naturally, becoming a second father figure. Hearing this news felt like déjà vu, so similar to what we went through with my dad. I was left in shock — numb, overwhelmed, and flooded with emotions I’m still trying to process. 

I first met Tito Boy when I started my very first job at Gawad Kalinga. He immediately stood out — the cool uncle with long hair, big headphones, a love for selfies, and a gift for making every conversation fun and meaningful. But what truly made him unforgettable was his heart. His love language was food; nothing made him happier than sharing a meal and making sure everyone around him was well-fed and cared for.

At the same time, I had the incredible privilege of being mentored by his equally inspiring wife, Tita Maria, in Communications and Events Management. Through their example, I began to understand what servant leadership really meant — leading not with authority, but with humility, compassion, and love.

Looking back, it was through Tito Boy and Tita Maria that I first learned how to lead with heart. Their presence in my life during those early years shaped not just my career, but also the kind of person I strive to be.

Over the years, I had the privilege of working closely with Tito Boy on various projects, especially when I became more involved with the volunteers from GK USA. Our shared work didn’t stop there. Together, we also worked on peace-building projects in Mindanao — projects that sought to bring communities together, heal wounds, and foster understanding amidst conflict. Tito Boy’s approach to these projects was always one of deep compassion, listening first and acting with empathy. It was through his guidance that I understood the true essence of bringing people together, no matter how deep the divide, and creating lasting change that goes beyond the surface. 

One unforgettable experience was traveling to Bicol with him and Tito/Dr. Boy Abay to explore potential partnerships in Sorsogon. Those trips weren’t just about work — they were filled with stories, laughter, life lessons, and moments of genuine connection that shaped who I am today. 

He was also one of the very few people I could talk to openly about spirituality — and that’s something I appreciated most. Our conversations helped me navigate through uncertainty and gave me a deeper sense of grounding as I dove into my own spiritual journey. With Tito Boy, I always felt safe to be vulnerable, to ask questions, and just be. 

Later on, I was blessed to collaborate with him again through a passion project with the ADMU616569 Foundation — a group made up of his Ateneo classmates from grade school, high school, and college. During the height of the pandemic, they came together to share not just resources, but their blessings and life wisdom with communities who needed it most. Working alongside them, and especially with Tito Boy, was one of the most meaningful experiences of my life. 

Just recently, we had one of our usual late-night conversations. I was updating him about the progress of our social enterprise, and in that familiar, affirming way of his, he reminded me how proud he was. He said he was happy to see me finally following the true desires of my heart, and he believed I was truly on the right path. His words meant everything. I just didn’t realize it would be one of our last real conversations. I didn’t even get the chance to check on him before the news came. 

It’s never easy to say goodbye — and even harder to accept that, in the days ahead, I won’t be able to call or message you anymore. I’ll miss those unexpected texts or calls when you’d ask for help with something tech-related, and we’d end up laughing through it together. I’ll miss your voice, your encouragement, your wisdom — just you, really.

Your presence brought comfort, perspective, and a kind of joy that’s hard to put into words. I’ll miss your articles, your insights, the way you always saw things differently and helped me see them in a new light, too. You had this quiet brilliance and such a generous spirit when it came to sharing your thoughts.

Thank you for being my cheerleader — the one who celebrated my wins, even the quiet ones I stopped talking about. You still bragged about me to others, and I’ll never forget that kind of love and pride.

I know it’s bittersweet to keep holding on, especially knowing how painful it must be now — how exhausting the treatments must have become. It breaks my heart to even imagine it, just as it broke my heart hearing my own dad say he was too tired and wanted to give up. And while I know I don’t have the right words to truly comfort your family in this daunting time, I offer my most fervent prayers — for them, and for you. 

You’ve left a space no one else can fill. I’ll carry you with me always. I will find ways to honor you, to continue your legacy, and carry your light forward in all that I do. Until we meet again, my dearest Tito Boy. You are deeply loved — and will remain in our hearts forever.