To Our Dearest Jao in Heaven

 

Happy 29th birthday, Jao.

Today, we celebrate you—not with cake and candles here on earth, but with prayers whispered to the skies, tears softened by smiles, and memories cradled tightly in our hearts. You would have been 29 today. It’s hard to imagine the man you would have become—though in our eyes, you’ve always been extraordinary.

From the moment you arrived in this world, you were our joy, our sunshine, our hope. And when you left, too soon and too painfully, we stayed by your side—our hands holding yours, our hearts breaking as one. Losing you in that tragic accident tore a hole in our lives that no time can truly mend.

You were only 23. So young. So full of life. You had dreams that could have lit up cities, a laugh that could change the mood of a whole room, and a heart that loved so purely. In your short time here, you managed to touch so many lives—more than you’ll ever know.

Even in your absence, you remain. In the quiet moments. In the sound of your favorite songs. In our shared stories and the “what ifs” that cross our minds daily. We imagine you now, maybe still pursuing your dreams, maybe just coming home with that familiar smile, arms wide for a hug.

We miss you with every fiber of our being.

But more than the pain, we feel immense gratitude—because we got to know you, love you, and grow with you. You are a part of us forever. We carry your memory in every joy we feel, in every gentle breeze, in every sunset that reminds us of heaven’s colors.

On your birthday, we choose to celebrate your life. To honor who you were and who you would’ve been. We light a candle not just for remembrance—but for love that never dies.

May heaven throw you the kind of birthday you deserve—peaceful, joyful, wrapped in everything beautiful. Keep dancing in the light, Jao. Keep watching over us. And know that not a single day passes without someone here thinking of you, missing you, loving you.

Happy birthday, our beloved Jao.

We were there when you arrived, and we’ll carry you with us until we meet again.

With all the love in the world...

💙💕❤️🫰

Duty Beyond Holidays: Life of a DRR Officer in Times of Emergency

In a world that is constantly tested by natural calamities and human-induced hazards, the work of a Disaster Risk Reduction (DRR) Officer is never bound by the ordinary clock, nor by the comfort of holidays. While most people look forward to weekends and rest days, our reality is different. As DRR Officers, we are governed not only by our passion to serve but also by official memorandum directives and circulars that mandate our readiness and presence—especially in emergency situations. We are duty-bound to respond anytime, even on holidays, because disasters do not wait for regular working hours.

My work as a DRR Officer is rooted in a deep sense of public service and preparedness. Whether it’s monitoring an approaching typhoon, coordinating evacuation efforts, conducting risk assessments, or joining relief distribution, my days are filled with urgency and responsibility. The directives are clear: those working in disaster response must always be on call, must ensure visibility in the field, and must lead operations when our communities are at risk. This is not just a job—it is a commitment to safeguard lives, properties, and the future of our municipality.

It’s not always easy. There are days when I miss family gatherings, church Sundays, quiet meals, and even personal rest. But seeing children safely evacuated, families fed and sheltered, and communities empowered makes every sacrifice worth it. I’ve learned to find joy in the little victories—like early warnings that prevented casualties, or communities thanking us after a storm. These moments remind me that holidays can wait—but saving lives cannot.

To all my fellow DRR workers, responders, and volunteers: this is more than a role. It’s a calling. And to those reading this blog, I hope you remember us—the people working behind the scenes while you rest safely at home during storms and calamities. We are not heroes. We are just ordinary people doing an extraordinary job, with an extraordinary heart.