It was a cloudy August 24,
2013 morning. The rays of the sun were hindered by the thick dark clouds
brought by the passed typhoon. The chirping of the birds was still there which
we usually hear every morning. Some part of the basketball court were filled with
dried leaves and water that signifies us a medium rainfall last night.
Despite of the saddening
ambiance outside the chapel, our community celebrated our daily mass joyfully
because of the humorous and inspiring homily of our deacon. That happened rarely
in our community because we usually finish the celebration with burdens and
pains at our back. Those were the moments when Fr. Banjo, our seminary
formator, was confined in the Intensive Care Unit of The Medical City. But at
that day, all of us were wearing a genuine smile that colored the entire
seminary house. Many of us were tickling
each other; some were making fun about our brother; some were fixing and
reading the newspaper, and our assigned kitcheners prepared our breakfast for
that morning. After preparing, one of them rang the bell as a sign that the
food is already prepared and ready to be eaten. The entire community gathered
at the refectory, prayed to God, and ate. We finished our breakfast and
everyone fixed their own used utensils at the table. Then, everyone went up to
their respective dormitory and changed their clothes. Some had their Physical
Education class, while the rest stayed and had their general cleaning.
While walking along the
Apitong street going to the school, my brother and I were having a serious
discussion about Fr. Banjo at that time. Suddenly, he asked me. “What thing do
you want earn from Fr. Banjo’s stuffs when he died?” I looked at my brother, frowned
and grinded with an implied response of, “Will you please stop joking like
that!” When he realized that I felt bad hearing that question, he did not ask
me more questions instead we continued walking going to the school without
anything being discussed. We arrived at the school and started our class
immediately. We played volleyball since that was the sport being introduced to
us by our professor. While playing, I felt uncomfortable because of the weather
and also of the taught that bothered me, “What if Fr. Banjo will die
today?” Though I am not at ease, I still
played well in our game but that effort of mine did not let our team won the
game instead we lost it and a grade as well.
My brother and I went back
to the seminary after our class. Immediately, I fixed myself to avoid
Pneumonia. My body released more sweat because of the game we had. Afterwards,
I cleaned our dormitory since I have not cleaned it last week. While doing the
chore, some of my brothers were having their recreation while others were
studying for the upcoming examination next week. I went down from the dormitory
and proceed to the laundry room to get some extra cloth. As I passed Fr.
Banjo’s room, I felt something horrible at that time. I have observed that
because my heart beat faster immediately and my arm felt something weird.
Despite of the feeling, I still proceeded to the laundry room and went back to
the dormitory to continue what I am doing. While I was cleaning, my brother
told me that the ICU of the hospital called this morning and was looking for
Fr. Rasel, our vice-rector. Then after that, our deacon and Fr. Rasel together
with one of my brothers went to the hospital hurriedly. Listening to that
story, I got worried because of an instance that Fr. Banjo might leave us
already. Although I got worried, I continued cleaning our dormitory, but I was
still bothered with what my dormate had told me. It made me unfocused in
cleaning because there were some parts of our room were not cleaned well.
Suddenly, the telephone
rang. No one picked up the telephone immediately because everyone was doing
something, but because of the goodness of our kusinera, she picked up the telephone for us. We realize that it
was our deacon who’s calling. After talking to our deacon , she called
nervously one of my brothers who were playing basketball at that time. Because
of that, everyone who were playing went also with him to the telephone booth.
When my brother reached the booth and talked to our deacon, he made a sign of
the cross and told everyone who was there that Fr. Banjo already passed away.
Then, one my brothers rang bell and announced the news. Every one of us
gathered inside the chapel to pray a rosary for the soul of our dearly beloved
formator. That was the time when everyone knelt and wept inside the chapel.
Each life has its ending,
but in that ending a new beginning is going to bloom. Fr. Banjo had left us,
but we believe that in his death his life with God had already started and we,
also as his community, started our journey without him anymore. Hinaot nga
malipayon naka kauban ang atong Ginoo Padre!
