Dear Basti

DONG MAGSAJO

Dong’s letter to his son, Basti, when his father, Chito Magsajo, died.

Dear Basti,

While I write this letter, I hope you’ve already had time to process what our family has just gone through. Because for the first time, you have connected with your family in a way you never have. All of you, from Alonso to Kimi to Elisa to Yana to you to Anton… All of you are going through this for the very first time. We’ve always been together through the good times. But this storm has taken us to what we can call a bad time. As a result, for the first time, you guys are dealing with grief.

You cried so hard the other day that you could not understand what was happening. That’s because you’ve never been much of a crier. Not when you were a baby, not when you were a toddler, and certainly not these days as a young adult. Yet when your mom got you up from bed on the morning of September 17 and took you to a place that you’d always pictured as a happy place, you refused to enter your Lolo’s (grandfather’s) room to see his lifeless body. “No,” you said. And it was all you said. And then you cried so hard that it surprised us all.

I’m writing this letter now because I’d like to help you understand what you felt. But more importantly, why did you feel the way you did? And what you can learn from that painful and agonizing moment when you first felt bereavement. To do so, I’ll need to tell you a story that’s almost 40 years old – well, 39, to be more honest – but you get it.

It was 1985. I was in 6th grade. All 13 years old. Exactly your age now. And it was career week in school. At Career Week, we were tasked to bring along professionals who could tell stories about what it was like to be living as a working adult. Your Lolo was among those invited to talk. He was there, the lone banker among lawyers and doctors and engineers. And while I was proud of my then-Assistant Vice President father, I knew nothing about what he did for work.

So when Lolo started explaining what bankers did, I was just as surprised as everyone else. He explained that while banking might seem simple to the everyday guy, it wasn’t as easy as a person giving his or her money to an institution and that institution keeping his or her money safe. “We are tasked to make that money grow. How do you think we do that? We make decisions that should ensure that the trust given to us is well earned. When people give us their money for safekeeping, we do more than keep it safe; we make it grow,” he explained. I felt that it was such a daunting and complicated task. But it still didn’t sound as important as what doctors do. That is, until one of my classmates asked, “What then, Mr. Magsajo, would you say is your biggest responsibility? If doctors are tasked with saving people’s lives, engineers are tasked with building our homes, and lawyers are tasked with crafting the laws that govern our society, what is the most important task of a banker?”

Your Lolo smiled. You know that smile. That little smirk that kind of reassures you that he’s got this one right down pat. “I look at banking the way I see life,” he started. “Because banking is all about trust and safekeeping and growing. We bankers are entrusted with something important to people – their earnings and savings. We are tasked to keep all that safe and to make all that grow. So basically, we’re like people who have been given skills and talents and all these wonderful gifts in life, like spouses and children. People are then tasked to keep all those safe and make them grow. I see banking as the most important profession because what we do teaches us what’s important in life.”

Upon hearing all this, I was awe-stricken. I did not realize how profound your Lolo’s worldview was, how essential his life purpose was, or how immense his responsibility was. Suddenly, I was even more proud—until he taught me an even more important lesson when he continued talking.

“However, before you think this view is all about seeing ourselves as bigger than we are, you need to remember this,” he continued. “Our task as bankers will never be about us and our plans because we don’t own the money entrusted to us. It is all borrowed. Similarly, our goals in life should never be about us and our plans. All of these will always be about God. Because the skills, talents, and gifts in life like spouses and children – God owns all these. All are borrowed from God. They are not yours. These belong to God. So, we should all, first and foremost, be thankful to God. And we should acknowledge before Him that we are merely stewards of all these, not owners. We are merely the executors of God’s great plan.”

“Start with that,” he said. “Always be thankful to God for the responsibility He has given you. Acknowledge that He wants what is best, learn to let God lead, and you will be successful. You will be happy. A banker’s responsibility is, in truth, a Christian’s responsibility, a proper human being’s responsibility,” he ended.

My entire freaking class was in awe, Basti. It was ridiculous.

Anak (son), because He loves us immensely, God gives us gifts like wonderful grandparents who teach us about beautiful things like embracing our roles in life and, in your case, loving this fantastic language called music. But these gifts, as Lolo said all those years ago, belong to God. And only God has and knows the most perfect plans for each of us. As stewards of God’s gifts, we aim to keep them safe and grow them. You and your Lolo took your love for each other, kept that precious gift, and made it grow. The other day, you cried like you’d never cried before because by asking for His gift back, God is teaching you that you’ve done well with your task. And as God’s steward, it is time to give back the gift to Him, which is God’s best plan. So be thankful and let God lead.

Lolo was a wonderful, wise, loving presence in our lives. He was God’s beautiful gift to us. Thank the Lord for your time with him. Because all of us are blessed to have had it, remember Lolo always. Remember his lessons. Remember his wisdom. Remember his love.

Most importantly, remember that through your Lolo, God gave you, God gave us all, a great gift. Let Lolo go. And let God lead. Grow your faith from this painful experience because Lolo would not have wanted anything less. Lolo would like nothing more than for you to grow from this experience.

Love, Dad