Ivan’s gift

By Limuel S. Celebria

I went on the wagon for several months just recently after my most severe bout with gouty arthritis left me limping from pillar to post for over a month. Okay, being “on the wagon” meant not drinking beer or any alcoholic beverages. Too much beer (more than six bottles, in my case, and even a few glasses of red wine) triggers the arthritis with which I had an on and off partnership for several years already.

Like the old soldier who ran away to fight another day, I forsook drinking in the meantime so I could continue drinking later. It’s a habit I would hate kicking. Not just because of the years and the fortune we have invested on San Miguel, as the street smarts would say, but because of the metaphysical rewards – friendships gained and established, wisdom acquired and imparted, and the generally good times that make for fond memories experienced in convivial drinking congresses.

The other night, I opened up a bottle of Emperador planning to summon the spirits as I bid another adios to a fallen comrade and compadre, Ivan P. Suansing with whom I shared many an endless night over many a bottle of beer and nevermore.

Unfortunately, I was no Edgar Allan Poe. Instead of hitting the keyboard to reshape memories of bygone days, I found myself hitting the bottle more often and wallowing in the woebegone. These past few days since Ivan’s departure from this accursed land, I was not only anguished, I was also angry. There is no justice in this world. Why is it that, in the eternal struggle between good and evil, the dark side always wins? The good die young and there are less and less of them to keep the darkness at bay.

I was angry because, as good a man as Ivan was and as accomplished a professional journalist that he was, there are some among us who would have no qualms about borrowing from his sheen to boost their own stock. Like this hack who would clasp at coincidences to claim the remotest of affinities with my fallen friend.

This anger persisted until another true friend, Ivan’s and mine, reminded me how big a heart Ivan had. In my bitterness, I became possessive. I foolishly thought that, with the many things we have shared for many years, I was as close to Ivan as anyone could get. I forgot that Ivan was not just my friend. He was a friend to all.

In my previous column, I wrote about Ivan’s gifts as a writer and the excellence of his craft as a journalist. (Just this June, the Rotary Club of Manila recognized the Cebu Daily News as the Best Regional Newspaper in the country with Ivan receiving the award as editor-in-chief.) I extolled his achievements but I may have missed an important point in his existence and why he was so dear to me. And to everyone else.

Ivan succumbed to a fragile heart. But, in truth, he had a bigger heart that embraced everyone, even the foolish and frivolous. Often, in my columns, I would get scrappy and lash at perceived enemies (as I am doing now). Sometimes, Ivan would catch me in the middle of doing such a column and he would say, “Why waste your time on such fools?” And there goes my column to the trash bin.  I had such respect for his opinion.

There is so much jealousy, factionalism, and cut-throat competition in Iloilo’s media community. But Ivan was untouched by it all. He took no sides. And I have never heard him speak ill of anyone. Even as some of us would enjoy our beer while taking snipes at the stupidity and crappiness of our competitors, Ivan would simply listen with half a smile in his lips.

Many would describe Ivan as reticent and taciturn. Indeed, he was the quiet type. But only because he was above and beyond pettiness. And that was his gift, too.

I won’t be saying goodbye, this time, my friend. Instead, I would like to say thank you – for your friendship and for being a part of my life. You will not be forgotten.

(Ivan’s remains now lie in state at St. Joseph the Worker’s Church in Jaro. Interment will be on Saturday following the requiem mass at 10:00 o’clock at Christ the King Memorial Park.)