The decade that began in 2020 unfolded
differently than anyone expected.
With COVID, the world slowed. Borders closed.
Lives were rearranged. Families stayed indoors, and silence fell over cities
and villages across continents.
As the world slowed, our children—Eric, Sunita,
and Marc and our niece Shobha — remained deeply connected, offering help,
calling frequently, visiting when possible, and forming a protective circle of
love around us.
Our grandchildren, growing quickly into young
adults, brought joy, music, stories, and youthful optimism. Their presence was
a blessing, a reminder of all that we had built and all that continued through
them.
Family gatherings—whether in person or through
screens—carried a new sweetness.
Every smile mattered.
Every conversation was a gift.
Every shared memory felt like a small miracle.
2. SOPAR and Bala Vikasa — A
Legacy That Lives Beyond Us
Even as global challenges disrupted routines,
SOPAR and Bala Vikasa stood strong.
Years of building resilient structures, strong teams, and values-based
leadership bore fruit.
During this period:
- Women’s
groups adapted and continued meeting.
- Water
projects advanced.
- Youth
and leadership programs moved into hybrid formats.
- PDTC
resumed training with safety and innovation.
- International
partners reaffirmed their trust.
- And
the next generation of leaders stepped forward.
 |
| Women coordinators training session |
For André and me, it was profoundly moving to
witness a mission we had nurtured for decades now continuing under the
stewardship of capable, compassionate hands.
We saw clearly:
The
mission was no longer ours alone.
It belonged to the people.
It belonged to the future.
3. Celebrating 50 Years of
Marriage and Beyond
Amidst these years came milestones that filled
our hearts with joy.
Our 50th wedding anniversary on
January 1, 2019, became a celebration not only of years but of:
- perseverance,
- forgiveness,
- courage,
- partnership, and
the power of a love that began in secrecy and sacrifice and blossomed into a
lifelong mission.
The message engraved in our hearts since 1968—PremAA—felt
more alive than ever.
4. Looking Toward the Future — A
Legacy of Love and Service
By 2025, life had brought both challenges and
grace.
We had walked through illness, through
uncertainty, through global change.
Yet through it all, the light of our mission
continued to shine, carried forward by the next generation in Bala Vikasa and
SOPAR.
Our family
grew stronger.
Our faith grew deeper.
Our love grew more tender, more profound, more eternal.
André’s journey through illness, his twelve
years of resilience, his strength of mind and spirit, became a testament not
only to medical perseverance.
There comes a moment in every long life when
the years, once separate, begin to speak to one another. The memories that were
scattered like stars across decades slowly arrange themselves into
constellations. When I look back on our journey—from the first letter written
in trembling hope to the quiet evenings of today—what rises before me is not a
sequence of events, but a single, continuous thread of meaning.
Our story was never only about the places we
lived, the work we accomplished, or the challenges we endured. These were the
vessels that carried us, but the real voyage took place within: in the choices
whispered by conscience, in the courage summoned in silence, in the tenderness
that shaped our days like flowing water shaping stone. Time recorded the years;
love recorded the truth.
Our love began almost shyly, like a flame
sheltered between two hands. It grew not through grand declarations but through
small acts of fidelity—letters written in secret, moments stolen from rigid
schedules, prayers whispered across oceans. That love sustained itself through
distance, sacrifice, and the uncertainties of life. And though it transformed
with the seasons, its core remained untouched: a quiet vow to walk together,
whatever the path might bring.
As life unfolded, love deepened. It shed hesitations, grew in
strength, and learned to recognize itself not only in passion but in presence.
There were times when words were unnecessary, when a glance across a room, a
touch on the arm, or a silence shared spoke more truth than any sentence could
contain. Time did not diminish our love; it strengthened and purified
it—leaving only what was essential, tender, and enduring.
Looking back, I see that our journey rested on
an inner foundation carved slowly and gently by the values that guided
us. Simplicity shaped our days, allowing us to focus on what truly
mattered. Justice gave direction to André’s work and lent clarity to our
decisions. Service was the quiet current beneath our lives, pulling us always
toward those who needed a voice. Respect for dignity—especially the
dignity of the poor—became the soul of our mission. And beneath everything,
faith flowed like a subterranean river, nourishing our steps even when the path
was uncertain.
These values were never doctrines; they were
lived realities, discovered in the ordinary rhythms of our lives — in
conversations late at night, in the discipline of daily work, in the courage to
choose the harder road.
And then there is the legacy of family,
the most beautiful of all. Our children grew under our gaze as trees grow
toward the sun—each with their own shape, their own light, yet carrying in
their hearts the seeds of our journey. They became the quiet continuation of
our love, the living bridge between our past and the years that will follow us.
With them, life renewed itself. Through our grandchildren, it blossomed.
SOPAR and Bala Vikasa also emerged from this deep
soil. They were not projects planned at desks or drafted in reports. They were
born from compassion, from listening, from the knowledge that true
transformation begins not with resources but with human dignity. Villages changed
not because we arrived with answers but because we arrived with humility. We
offered presence; people offered their strength. The mission flourished because
it echoed the natural wisdom of the poor—women and men who needed only an
opportunity to reveal the leadership they already carried within.
And then came illness, entering our
lives like a visitor we had not invited. Yet even this carried a strange
blessing, uncovering dimensions of love we had not yet fully known. Illness
slowed our steps, but it illuminated our hearts. It taught us that time is not
measured by length but by depth, that fragility and courage often walk hand in
hand, and that the smallest gestures—a shared meal, a whispered prayer, a
steadying hand—can become moments of eternity.
André walked through his illness with a grace
that defied explanation. There were difficult days and days of fatigue, yet
beneath everything lay a serenity that touched everyone who came near him. His
strength no longer depended on physical energy but on clarity, discipline, and
a humility so profound that it became luminous. Even in vulnerability, he
remained a source of calm.
When I reflect on all the decades that
passed—from our youth in Manila to our later years surrounded by family—I see
that what endures is not the outer story but the inner radiance that
accompanied it. What remains are the invisible traces: the love that held us,
the hope that sustained us, the compassion that guided our hands, the faith
that circled our days like a protective light.
If our life teaches anything, it is that a
journey shared in love becomes larger than the two who walk it. It becomes a
field in which many others may grow. Our children, our grandchildren, the women
and men of thousands of villages, the friends who walked with us—all are part
of the same unfolding legacy.
And to those who will come after us, I would
say only this: Do not fear love. Let it shape you, demand of you,
purify you. For love, lived faithfully, becomes not only a feeling but
a way of seeing the world. It opens the heart to service, to justice, to
tenderness. It enlarges the soul. It teaches that nothing is ever lost when it
is given generously.
In the end, when the noise of life fades and
the years settle gently behind us, what remains is simple:
two hands
held through time,
a family born of that union,
a mission rooted in compassion,
and the quiet certainty that we lived as we were meant to live—
guided by love, sustained by faith, and grateful for every step of the journey.
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