Oh, I remember her well.

At a time when I had reached the proverbial point of no return, when the excruciating pain in my spine became a thunderous command to finally go under the knife, I found myself following doctors’ orders. Surgery then — procedure now, as it happened so long ago — was inevitable. This was after multiple failed attempts with tractions and alternative physical remedies, and despite a dozen calls that circled the same advice: “Don’t operate on a young man.”

I was on assignment in Los Angeles when the decision came. Despite the availability of best-trained doctors and the latest medical equipment, when it comes to choice, nothing compares to being home. So I booked the next flight to the Philippines. No hesitation. I simply wanted to be surrounded by family, loved ones, and Filipino surgeons and support staff, who knew exactly how to care in that uniquely Filipino way.

Being true-blooded Cebuanos, we didn’t even have a home in Manila then. We checked into the old Sheraton Century Park Hotel on Vito Cruz, where they offered serviced residences for long-staying guests. It was there that the tedious and painful rehab began, learning to move and walk again. Laps at the pool was part of therapy. And always watched over by two full-fledged nurses — plus a day-off reliever — who each had their distinct style of tender love and care. One more clinical, the other more maternal, but both overflowing with a shared sincerity — genuine, heartfelt and truly Filipino.

But the afternoons were sacred. When Oras ng Ligaya invaded the television set, all else stopped. They idolized this show! No meals. No baths. No exercises. No interruptions. That was when I first met her.

Sylvia La Torre, the Sylvia La Torre. The first OA (over-acting), in the best way possible. She answered even mundane questions with the flourish of a diva. With an operatic rise in tone, her eyes were always aflutter, complete with hand gestures slicing the wind. Her skits brought the house down. We lost touch after rehabilitation, but her impression remained imprinted.

Fast-forward to a casual get-together at a gallery with Mita Rufino, Araceli Salas, and yours truly from the Filipino Heritage Festival Inc., and the Cultural Center of the Philippines’ Dennis Marasigan and soprano Rachelle Gerodias, when we wanted to honor the late Sylvia La Torre. The idea came naturally. It wasn’t hard to convince each other.

And so, Ibyang, Mahal Kita was born.

Held at the historic Manila Metropolitan Theater on 29 May in celebration of National Heritage Month, the tribute concert celebrated Sylvia La Torre’s stellar legacy — on stage, in film, on the airwaves, on vinyl, and on television. There were those who came out of loyalty and love — individuals like the gentleman beside me who, at every title flashed on the screen, would hum the opening lines without fail. And then there were the young ones, perhaps dragged along at first, who ended up watching with rapt attention.

The show’s scriptwriter and director, Marasigan, put it simply: “When I was invited to direct a concert tribute to the late Sylvia La Torre, I did not have any second thoughts… Knowing her contributions to Philippine culture and entertainment, I believed it is but fitting to honor her legacy and re-introduce her to a new generation of Filipinos…”

And indeed, Sylvia was more than just a performer. Considered as the “Queen of the Kundiman” and the “First Lady of Philippine Television,” she embodied the Filipino soul, whether through sorrowful songs or comic relief, with that unmistakable sterling voice that could summon both tears and laughter.

The concert followed her career, moving through two phases.

Rachele Gerodias, who has starred in numerous operas and concerts, brought La Torre to life.

“Act 1: Beginnings, Recording, and Film” spanned Ibong Sawi and Bituing Marikit to Mutya ng Pasig and Maalaala Mo Kaya. Each segment offered a vivid glimpse into Sylvia’s golden era. Highlights likewise included performances by Byeong In Park, Wincess Jem Yana and Tinig Kayumanggi. The dance ensemble, Danspace, gave color to lively numbers like Waray-Waray and Galawgaw.

“Act 2: Radio and Television, and the Finale” tugged at the heartstrings with Oras ng Ligaya, a reenacted skit, and musical renditions of Sa Kabukiran and Masaganang Kabukiran. The night ended with Sa Duyan ng Pagmamahal, Banahaw and Pandangguhan, a touching farewell to a lady whose voice had cradled generations.

The concert was interwoven with the music of the University of Santo Tomas Symphony Orchestra, under the helm of conductor and musical director Daniel Bartolome, whose youthful vigor was fittingly poetic as it is, after all, the only all-student orchestra in the country. Jeddi Cris Pasaporte Celeste was the musical arranger.

Sylvia’s children and a brother sent video messages from Los Angeles County across the Pacific Ocean, their gratitude evident. This in turn warmed our hearts back.

Meanwhile, the Filipino Heritage Festival Inc. continues to ensure legacies such as Sylvia’s are deservingly celebrated, seriously taught, and consistently passed down.

Ibyang, though you are missed, you are always remembered, in every voice of the current generation.

¡Enhorabuena, Sylvia La Torre!