Captivating Text Exchanges: Unveiling Fond Memories with Lou

Our beloved family friend, Maria Luisa “Lou” Torres-Morales (June 21, 1944-Sept. 24, 2023), wife of the esteemed Dr. Dante Morales—the brilliant cardiologist and director of the Manila Doctors Hospital—sadly passed away last September 24. It is with a heavy heart that I pay tribute to her in this humble piece.

A phone call from my dear friend Linda Manalac left me trembling with disbelief as she shared the heartbreaking news, “Pare, our Kumare Lou passed away yesterday.” I was taken aback, my legs gave way beneath me, and I found solace in a nearby chair, escaping the fate of landing on the bare floor. I managed to stutter, “Please say that again, Mare. Are you really telling me that Lou Morales, the joyful and perpetually smiling Lou, is no longer with us? She appeared so vibrant and healthy when we shared a meal at your home just a week ago. What happened?” Linda confirmed, “Yes, Pare, our dear Lou passed away yesterday. I am not aware of the specifics, but I will inform you of the wake schedule soon.”

As I remained motionless in that chair, my mind wandered through a flurry of thoughts. I couldn’t help but recall the overwhelming grief I experienced when my beloved Leni departed from this world, just as Lou did, unexpectedly and abruptly a few months earlier. I, too, found myself collapsing onto a chair in the emergency room of Makati Med. When I regained my composure, I approached the lifeless body of Leni, covered in a white sheet, with only her serene and gentle face visible. I held her close, overcome with tears, and whispered, “I’m sorry, honey, I failed you.” I wept uncontrollably, knowing there was nothing I could have done to save her.

After I recovered from the initial shock but still lingered in that motionless state on the chair, I began to reflect upon Lou’s compassionate and kind-hearted nature. I remembered all the times Leni and I shared meals with Lou and Dan during the Sunday family gatherings at Tong and Linda’s home. Lou was always such a good listener during those gatherings. She paid attention to every conversation. After learning that I had a fondness for buco pandan sherbet, she surprised us with a gallon of my favorite ice delicacy, accompanied by a text message saying, “I had a wonderful time seeing you and Leni at Linda’s… The meal was fantastic, but the company was even better… I hope you enjoy more buco-lychee sherbet throughout the week.” I chuckled as I watched Leni devour her beloved corn cobs, and before I knew it, Lou had sent dozens of them to our home along with a text message, “Please enjoy the corn cobs I sent. They can be eaten raw as well. Just keep them in your refrigerator.” She continued to send dozens more in the following weeks.

Years ago, when Lou discovered that Leni and I were planning a trip to Japan, she immediately sent a thoughtful text, “Have a splendid time in Japan. Make sure to pack warm clothes for both you and Leni. It can get really cold there, and there might be some rain too.” When Leni complained of a sore throat, hindering our usual heart-to-heart conversations, Lou texted right on cue when we arrived back home, “I highly recommend that she drink plenty of salabat. Ginger is great for the stomach too.” Her genuine care and quiet friendship were evident in the weekly Viber text exchanges she initiated with me. Often, she would mention my column, which she faithfully read. Allow me to share a sample quote, “Thank you for your column yesterday. Even though I am not a lawyer, I can understand it. It was written in simple, clear, and easy-to-understand English. I always look forward to reading your insights. Have a happy Monday, you and Leni.” Sometimes, she would send a text without any specific message, simply wishing me a delightful week ahead or reminding me to stay safe and healthy or hoping that my week would be filled with fun and joy.

Upon receiving the news of Leni’s passing on April 9, Lou wasted no time in sending a heartfelt text, “Leni was an extraordinary woman. She embodied the essence of a true lady in every way. Her absence will be deeply felt. If only I had given her a tight hug the last time I saw her. We love you, Leni. You will forever remain in our hearts. Thank you for setting an example for all of us.” I could continue to write and share more of Lou’s beautiful words, but as I type these cherished memories of our text exchanges, tears well up in my eyes. I fear that if I were to continue, I would break down in sobs. So, let me summon the courage to conclude: Lou was a genuine friend—compassionate, thoughtful, always cheerful, and incredibly humble. She loved without expecting anything in return, and she never burdened others with her own problems. Instead, she lent a patient ear to her friends’ difficulties, no matter how small or big. In fact, she was always ready to offer her assistance. My admiration for her is boundless, and our text exchanges will forever be etched in my memory. Farewell, dear Lou. Please greet my Leni, who I am certain you will meet in heaven, and kindly share my eternal love with her. And, please, in your prayers, implore our Lord Jesus to bless and guide us, the ones you left behind on this earth, especially Dan. Until we joyfully reunite in the Eternal Kingdom, we will patiently endure our earthly sorrows and longings.

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