I want to tell you a story.
Growing up, I’ve always thought that I’d end up doing music as a lifetime career. And in a way, it’s come true, just not the kind you see in your screens or pay a lot of money for tickets. I still do music with my husband from time to time, but we’re now more behind the scenes, more “in the service of” than anything, and nothing flamboyant.
When I was between my late teens and early twenties, I met this group of really talented young musicians (my husband included), most of whom were from a music conservatory. We were put together to become this band that would play mostly dance music at venues all around the metro; and if luck would have it, maybe travel the world.
But that journey didn’t go smoothly. Despite doing extremely well in the live band circuit and booking all our auditions in venues in Quezon city and Manila when we were first launched, it took time for us to break into the top venues in Makati. This was in the early 2000’s. To us young dreamers fresh out of unis, it was an important step to our band career. Only the important bands performed in Makati venues and we wanted to be one of them.
I remember arriving early at a mall where one of the bars we played at was located, with my prettified blue plastic tool box filled with makeup on my right hand and a cheap orange duffel bag on my left shoulder. I was excited. I just got a call from our manager who informed me that we finally got a full month gig at one of the bars in a hotel in Makati. I couldn’t wait to tell the rest of the guys in the band.
Nearing the bar, I could hear the faint sound of drums being played. Our drummer, Oli, had arrived much earlier than me and had been practicing.
I quickened my steps and burst through the doors, “Oli!!!!” I yelled from the entrance. “Pasok tayo!!!” (Oli! We’re in!!!)
I don’t know how the two of us found ourselves in the middle of that huge venue, but we were jumping and laughing and hugging each other in glee. There, in the sight of the staff and waiters who were scrambling to prep the venue for the night. We were excited. We were over the moon happy.
We were naive.
Things didn’t work out as we planned. We worked our asses off as a band every single night…and day…for over three years, rehearsing til late nights at a studio above our manager’s printing press, playing in dance venues and bars, taking mall gigs, playing at events, taking the van straight out of a bar to go on Luzon tours and out-of-town performances, fronting for more popular bands. A lot had happened, but the story that started out with a bunch of 7 young, hopeful wide-eyed kids eventually ended.
We all had to grow up.
We went our own separate ways and didn’t try hard to keep in touch. Life had been tough for most of us.
Two weeks ago, I got word that Oli passed away from cancer. All the memories with that group of people that I loved the most at one point in my life, all that we had gone through together — came flooding back to me.
The news of Oli’s passing affected me deeply. He wasn’t the only one we lost from that tiny little world we once had. I learned that my friend, Cathy, from a bigger band, also lost her life to cancer. My friend, Zach, passed, too, on the same year my music mentor, Ning Tirona, died. And it made me realize how sad, and often lonely life can truly be. I suddenly understood what it means by how this world is not our home (Hebrews 13:14), and when Jesus says to fix your eyes on Him (Hebrews 12:2)….because if you only fix your eyes on the world, you’ll eventually see the world for what it truly is….
Ecclesiastes 1:14
I have seen everything that is done under the sun, and behold, all is vanity and a striving after wind.
Psalm 90:12
So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.
Note: I wrote this in 2024, the year Oli passed away.
May Palacpac, Storyteller 
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