Lamentations to a friend and brother, YORK
By: Ma Cristina Galido
June 27, 2006
2300H
Twenty three days after a friend and a mountaineering brother died in a tragic death in Mt. Pinatubo, it was only now that I was able to really express what I felt. I guess it was really hard to accept how death would strike someone at such an early age. York was so full of promise…… a leader, an accomplished engineer, a dedicated community member, a responsible mountaineer, a loving son, and a genuine friend.
When Ronnie called me about York being lost in Mt. Pinatubo around 10 am on June 4 (which happened to be York’s birthday), I was certain he can get through with it. Afterall, he was a good swimmer, a survivor and a seasoned mountaineer. Looking at Ronnie’s eyes when we were preparing to go to Porac, I knew then that York was gone. Indeed, he was….. Hard to believe but reality slapped me with such a force that I can hardly breathe…… At that moment, I was there standing with disbelief when Ronnie, Marinehl and Ivy were crying….. There were no tears… Only me and my own disoriented self …No way it would happen to York ……No way……….How could things like that happen ….. It was one of the many realities of life that was just so damn hard to swallow and accept… It was a question we don’t want the answer, however reasonable it may be.
Browsing through snapshots of previous climbs (including the one with him) with my group in MFPI (IM 13), I can only look with disbelief at the moreno figure of a friend donning his favorite red trek pants and green hooded shirt. Uniquely handsome with his signature pair of dimples and sweet smile, he was always been a figure to reckon, a model to look up to, a leader to revere and a presence that is undeniably strong. True enough, he was one of the strong members of Grupo Trese of MFPI. As far as I can remember, he was either the sweeper or the trail leader of the group climbs. And when the group wants to climb Mt. Pulag, he was always the one in mind. That was his signature mountain. When he organized a climb with some of our group mates, together with his friends and officemates on a Halloween long weekend last year, you would be amazed at how much effort he had given for the trek. He was with his usual jolly self but with a bit of seriousness, this time because he was the organizer. And that was what admired me and the rest of the group to him --- his dedication. His dedication to the climbs that he had organized was worth a standing ovation. The Pulag climb was also my first encounter with Bjorn, his friend and officemate who was with him in Pinatubo and died a tragic death similar to him.
After his death, I have known and heard some stories of people who talked about what they learned from York when he was still alive.... stories of admiration, of love, of friendship, of dedication, of hardwork and commitment. I have mine to add to this list too. But this time it was my story of what his death had taught me. If there is one thing I can humbly say I did realize --- it was a simple yet powerful virtue of forgiveness... Yes, forgiveness...You see when we had our Holy Week climb this year at one of the most dangerous mountains in the country, Mt. Guiting Guiting in Romblon, there were some few lapses in the group decisions and led to some members having grudges. And yes I was one of them. This was the reason why I never posted a blog on my Guiting experience which I originally planned prior to the climb. York was one person I have had ill feelings with. After the post climb (which I have expressed what I felt), the last time I saw him and able to talk to him was during the MFPI meeting in Pioneer Grill. There I recall him smiling at me --- I forgot what he asked me at that time but there was a short conversation. I probably have mentioned to him about having a new haircut and he replied with the usual sweet smile
coupled with an explanation stressed on a Rizaleno accent. Though he was smiling,I saw so much sadness in his eyes. I guess I did not have the courage to ask him -- I was so engulfed with my own selfish grievances. I was actually expecting him to say sorry for what happened-- that was just it, a simple sorry. But there was none. Only then I knew later that he did say sorry to one of our group mates for the lapses on decision making in which he is part of. I have then resigned to accepting that things really happen for a reason. And three days after, I had the shock of my life when I heard he was missing. Then hours after, his death… I don't know what to feel.. or that I felt something at that time...I felt so numb at that time... there was all denial...at the time when we saw his body at Porac, at the time when we saw him at the wake... at the time of the mass, at the time that he was laid at his resting place, at the time that we released the balloons on his burial...it was all so unreal yet real. When I cried at the mass, I forgave Tatay York because he was only human and he can also make wrong decisions and judgements. When tears continuously stream down my cheeks, I also forgave myself for being selfish and for harboring a grudge on him, and because I too was also human and can make wrong decisions and judgements. I felt the weight of every tear running down my cheeks -- it was so damn painful and heavy....I wish I could hold him one more time just to say sorry and to say we all loved him..... I wish I could hugged him one last time just to let him feel I can be a friend to lean on...
Last Sunday, June 25, 2006, when we went to the spot where their bodies were found, it was not only to offer prayers for both of them but for us to also accept their untimely demise and move forward. As we offer those flowers and candles, the presence of a small butterfly and raindrops evading the lighted candles were enough to ease out the pain, at least for the moment. As we went back, I know that some of us still cannot fully accept what happened but I do know one thing -- York is happy seeing the people he cherished and loved.
With grief and sorrow still lingering on his family and friends, I wish and hope that all of us will one day muster enough courage to look at death with such credence and face it with fearlessness the way that I believe our dear friend York did. I know that he struggled a lot to survive (his bruises and wounds can speak to
that) but more than that, I believe that he was able to look at death with such gallantry that I know he always possessed. Even at his last moment here on earth, he still made his families and friends proud of him. On my part, he earned my respect and admiration --- for putting his friend’s sake way above himself. Such gallantry, such courage, such heroism ….. Farewell, dear friend and brother, you are the genuine BRAVEHEART.
