Tanah Rata, Malaysia — The road was getting narrower with each turn, and the bus driver’s eyes were fixed on the road 45 minutes after we left the main city of Kuala Lumpur.
I gazed at the green scenery outside my window and blinked a million times as a defense mechanism to ward off a possible weeping scenario.
News of Ricardo J. Cardinal Vidal’s death reached me that Wednesday morning, and I could not bring myself to think about the tea plantation and strawberry farm I would be visiting in this trip with my husband in Malaysia’s Cameron Highlands.
His Eminence was already serving Cebu as its archbishop for four years when I was born in 1986. I was a first grader when my mother pinned a calendar with Cardinal Vidal’s smiling face on our bedroom door.
My sister and I took turns in memorizing “His Eminence Ricardo J. Cardinal Vidal, Archbishop of Cebu” which were printed in large font on the upper half of the calendar.
We wondered why they have to put “Cardinal” between the first and last names. Why can’t they just put it before “Ricardo”? After all, they put “Dr.” and “Atty.” before each person’s first name.
In 1995, my grandmother Patricia, who visited the Archbishop’s Palace every month, said she asked a monsignor about my question and she was told that the formula in the placement of the cardinal title has been practiced since the ancient times.
That did not answer my question, but it earned me an invitation to join a children’s gathering at the Archbishop’s Palace so I can meet the monsignor who, I was promised, will answer my question thoroughly.
The meetup never happened.
But I saw Cardinal Vidal in person for the first time. I kissed his hand and smiled. I vaguely remember wearing a peach-colored dress and coming home with a story to tell my younger siblings: I met the person from the calendar!
The next time I saw him was in 2007 when I accompanied then CDN church beat reporter Bernadette Parco to a Misa de Gallo. I was already a journalist and I was still wondering about the cardinal title placement.
I later learned the answer from a priest who told me to encourage other people to research about it. In February 2012, Merril Perlman wrote in the Columbia Journalism Review about the tradition of putting “cardinal” between the first and last names. Check it out. It can be easily searched. For those who are curious, ask a priest or in my grandmother’s case, a monsignor.
In 2011, when Cardinal Vidal retired as Cebu’s archbishop, I was assigned to write about him for Inquirer. He was funny during the interview with the press in his Banilad residence. We laughed when he told us that he has a swimming pool and invited us to use it so we will not be too stressed and ask many questions. He also revealed his plan to be a dried fish vendor. He said he will ask Bishop John Du to supply him with dried fish since he is from Bantayan Island.
The press conference ended with individual pictures with Cardinal Vidal. He wanted to do the peace sign with me but said his fingers were too stiff to do it. He settled on holding his cross necklace because it symbolizes peace too.
I last visited Cardinal Vidal in 2012. I fell in love and I thought I will get married to that man soon.
“Did he propose?” he asked.
“Not yet,” was my reply.
“Then why are you assuming you will be married to him? Asus nimo,” he said.
I told him the guy is Mormon, not Catholic. I was worried and do not know if it is going to be right fit, but I love him and I believe he will be a great husband and wonderful father to my children.
He smiled and said, “Ayaw kaguol ana. If you love the person, the Lord will give you the grace to accept him bisan unsa pa na siya. Ang hugot nga pagtuo Inday dako og gahom. Pag-ampo kanunay kay moabot ang grasya.”
Cardinal Vidal was my love adviser, and he was pretty good as Dr. Love.
I married Jeff a few months after.
Cardinal Vidal died while Jeff and I were leaving Kuala Lumpur to spend three slow days in Cameron Highlands. I informed my mother and siblings about the news. My grandmother passed away 12 years ago. She was a great influence to me. She introduced me to Cardinal Vidal.
By the time I snapped out of my reverie, Jeff told me that the bus driver announced a 10-minute bathroom break. There was 59 kilometers more of traveling before we can reach the town of Tanah Rata, our jump-off point to visit Cameron Highlands.
As the bus came to a complete stop at the Tanah Rata terminal, I uttered a prayer of thanksgiving for the gift of life, the gift of love and the gift of Cardinal Vidal.
He will be dearly missed.