Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.
We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labour, and my leisure too,
For his civility.
We passed the school where children played,
Their lessons scarcely done;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.
We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.
Since then 'tis centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.--Emily Dickinson
The impact of the news just dawned on me. Is it really true?
Now I try to remember the day I first walked into his Filipino class three-and-a-half academic years ago, but fail. Instead, some fond memories of him come in little bits and pieces...
The first time I texted him I was going to be late. When I got to class that day, he scolded everybody (but I knew it was really for me) saying,
"Kung masama ang pakiramdam niyo, wag niyong intindihin, dahil pakiramdam niyo lang 'yun!" Of course, he had the right to say that, because he never let anything stop him from holding a class--especially not sickness. He didn't miss more than 5 sessions in the three semesters that I had him as my professor, if I remember right. He rarely canceled, unless he was compelled to (i.e. His wife set him up for a doctor's appointment, and he loved her too much not to show up, even if he didn't want to go).
When I learned that he just commuted to and from school, I was shocked. Well, yeah, maybe he was too old to drive himself around, but I was thinking he could have afforded a car and a driver. Or it would have been much more comfortable to ride the FX. But no, he took the bus everyday! His arguments? 1) Bus fare is cheaper, and 2) he lives near the station, anyway. So on nights when Jojo and I are really desperate to go home, we board the Cainta bus and sometimes get to ride with him. (The one time we did was when he was with his wife--that's where we met her--and yes, they were going home from the doctor's clinic.)
I always get to spend the longest times with him at the start and end of the semester. Everybody knows how much he wanted to talk with people, especially students. He always was full of stories. I enjoyed these times because I felt that he was sincerely enjoying my company also, but sometimes when you have a conversation with him, you lose track of the time. Even if I wasn't really interested in what he'd be saying at first, because I wanted to get done with clearance as soon as I could, something in the way he talked and laughed and the way his face lit up made me stay longer than I planned to. And every time I asked him to sign my clearance form, he'd signed it right away, but he held onto it until he was done talking with me. Funny. It was like he was always putting me in a trap. One time he must have sensed it, because he said to me,
"Bakit ba kayo palaging nagmamadali? Ako nga, o, tignan mo, ang haba-haba ng pirma ko at hindi ako nagmamadali, para maganda ang sulat at gumanda yang mga report card niyo, dahil ang papangit ng grado niyo!" And we'd laughed so hard he ended up with a coughing fit, but was still laughing anyway.
I'm trying to reminisce in an orderly way, but I guess when you're remembering someone like him who's had such a big impact in your life, things will always come at random...and it's hard to put thoughts into words.
I wouldn't have traded Kwentology (a.k.a. Filipino 1, 2, and 3) for any subject in the world. Those were History, Biblical Studies, Philosophy, and Life classes rolled into one. It was obvious, his passion for teaching. He always ended each class with something we could think about, something about life or God that we should consider.
He beamed whenever he talked about his family. You could see the pride in his eyes whenever he called out the best students in class; likewise, you could sense disappointment in his voice when he announced that almost the whole class failed. But he was always encouraging and patient. He wasn't only a professor. He was a friend, even a
lolo. After lunch, he'd be napping in one of the lobby couches, and he was never grumpy even if students were fooling around and making a lot of noise. Later last semester, he even resorted to sleeping in the library; he understood that kids needed their fun, just as he needed rest.
When I heard about his accident, I'd have to admit that I found it kind of funny. It was so like him to cross the street where there was a huge sign that says it's dangerous, knowing all those stories of his boyhood; he admitted to being
sutil, after all. (I'll never forget his misadventure with his father's
itak!) Not taking the implications seriously, I always believed that he'd get well soon enough. Of course, we constantly prayed for him, but I always thought he'd get through it.
Well, now, I guess he did...just not in the way I expected him to.
I always told the Freshmen that their Messiah experience couldn't be complete without Doc. I feel extra, extra privileged to have shared a tiny part of his life while he was still with us. Now, he is with the Father, in Heaven, basking in His glory. No more blood transfusions, head trauma, diabetes, slippery roads, rain, or illegal pedestrian crossings to keep him from doing what he's supposed to.
LORD, thank you for the life of Doc Matienzo. We miss him, but the love and companionship we can offer is no match to what You are giving him now. I won't ask for another one like him, but I pray for those lives whom he has touched--may his legacy continue through us.
For a professor and friend.
Hanggang sa muli po, Doc!
