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Death and the City

October 9, 2006

Dan Campilan's Theme

I went to the wake of a GMA 7
reporter, who died over the weekend in a freaky vehicular accident. Dan
Campilan was 25 when he joined his Creator.

I met Dan through another reporter
friend, Mark Salazar. I really had no chance to develop strong ties
with Dan, much less work with him except for a couple of times when he
obliged to cover a Gawad Kalinga event and an anti-cha-cha concert.
Other than that, I see him mostly in primetime news.

The last time I had a chat with him was in GMA 7. Mark and Dan were
there to listen as I let out the stress of a long day. Actually, It was
more like a nicotine marathon session with Mark and Dan. Just the same,
it was very relieving.

Then, a text message from Pia broke the news on a weekend which I
thought could be a total humdrum. “FYI, GMA 7 reporter Dan Campilan
died in a vehicular accident this morning…” Her message goes. I was
stunned.

At first, I could not believe that Dan perished just that morning. I
logged on and did some online searching for that particular news that I
wish could be a hoax. And there it was – a dreadful story that would
break any mother’s heart.

Suddenly, I thought about my life. Like Dan, I have so many things I
want to do, things I want to have, people I want to meet. His death, in
a way, knocked some sense into my numbing soul. I thought of the people
that I may have offended or loved ones that I may have not seen or
spend time with.“My time could be running out,” I told myself.

In his wake at Nacional Memorial, I still feel so bothered. Thoughts
were swirling and whirling on my head (Yes, like that circle in a
spiral). Despite the iconoclast geek that I am, I cannot help but feel
disturbed and restless. Suddenly, I thought of the people that I am
missing and the things that I wanted to do (but failing to do for one
reason or another). I tried to divert my attention by looking at the
Mass card that I was holding. “I am now free…,” a line in the card
read. And I just have to agree. Death, sometimes is a liberating thing
– total freedom from this crazy world.

Then a cold breeze started to engulf me. Sadness, he whispered, is his
name. After spending a few minutes with some friends and puffing more
nicotine into my veins and exchanging glances here and there, we
decided to head home and call it a night. But images of deaths and love
affair, of friendship and betrayal, of corporate competition, the
concrete jungle drama, frustrations and ambitions, of songs and poems –
all these were squeezed into my head as I made my way home.

Then, I asked myself: “How much time do I have to live the kind of life
I want?” and “Where do I start rectifying the mistakes I did and
continue to live with?” and “What will I eat for dinner?”

“U-turn po tayo?” asked the cab driver. And I am back to my
reality. I have seen death so many times – But Dan’s is one of those
with strong impact on me. It was 48 minutes past the hour of nine.
Maybe it is not too late to try to get that time of my life.

Rest in peace, Dan Campilan!