There are gifts we receive that we quietly keep tucked away in the corner of a cabinet, waiting for the moment their meaning would be revealed. Today, I finally opened one of those Christmas gifts.
Inside was a simple mounted photograph of myself, my husband Martin Andanar, and my fellow Las Piñas councilor, Eric de Leon.
The picture was taken during a medical mission in Tawi-Tawi at the height of the pandemic, a time when uncertainty filled the country — but kindness continued to quietly travel across islands.
As I held the photograph in my hands, memories came rushing back.
Councilor Eric and I are not only colleagues in public service. Long before politics brought us to the same council hall, we had shared a common calling — volunteer medical missions for communities in need.
During my time as a Cabinet spouse in the Duterte administration, one of the advocacies closest to our hearts was our partnership with World Surgical Mission (WSM).
Through WSM, doctors, nurses, volunteers, and ordinary citizens came together to bring free medical care and surgeries to Filipinos living in underserved provinces.
Dr. Eric was one of the strongest advocates of that mission.
We joined two memorable medical missions together: one to Tawi-Tawi and another to Catbalogan, Samar. Those missions were not easy. We encountered long hours, limited facilities, exhausting travel, and emotional stories from patients who had waited years to receive medical attention.
Yet amid the fatigue, generosity always found a way to shine.
I remember mothers lining up before sunrise carrying children with cleft palates, elderly patients crying after finally receiving treatment, and volunteers quietly giving away their own meals so others could eat first. I remember nurses sleeping on hospital floors just to continue assisting the next day.
And in the middle of all that seriousness was Doc Eric: cheerful, energetic and always bringing lightness into difficult moments.
With his bubbly personality, music, dancing, and humor, he had a unique gift of lifting spirits, especially among us ladies who badly needed laughter after long days.
But beyond the joyful personality was something even more admirable: his sincere compassion for people.
What I truly respect about my fellow councilor is his natural willingness to help those in dire need. He knew how to separate the loud noise of politics from the quiet whispers of people asking for help.
In a world where public service is often measured by visibility and publicity, Doc Eric understood that some of the most important acts of kindness happen when nobody is watching.
A week ago, we attended a special healing Mass for him. After the Mass, I was reminded of the gift that he gave me during our Christmas party.
Embarrassed, I took it out of my gift boxes and opened it.
Now I realize the photograph was more than just a remembrance. It was a reflection of generosity from the heart.
“Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.” —2 Corinthians 9:7.
Doctor Eric represents this kind of magnanimity. Perhaps that is why many lovingly call him “Doc ng Bayan.”
And truly, in times when the world desperately needs more compassion, people like him remind us that purity of service should never be optional in public office, it should be its very foundation.