The last time I saw Koyang Zaro (my uncle) alive was in January. We went for a slow jog at the University of the Philippines campus, a place filled with trees, laughter, and movement. Looking back, it feels almost poetic that the last memory I hold of him alive is of us running side by side. He wasn’t just running on that track. He was running the race of life – STEADILY, JOYFULLY and FAITHFULLY.

This week, when we laid him to rest, our family is also gathered earlier at U.P. for a run. The timing felt bittersweet, as if God Himself had set this stage: one race ending, another race beginning. It reminded me that life is indeed like running. Sometimes we run fast and strong, sometimes we slow down, sometimes we stumble and fall. But what matters most is that we get back up, keep moving, and never give up until we reach the finish line.

A Life Well-Lived
Koyang Zaro lived a life that could only be described as full. He stood as a second father to us when our own parents were gone. He filled the gap with laughter, energy, and a steady support at times we needed a wall to lean on. But more than that, he was passionate in his faith. He wasn’t just a man of words; he walked the talk. His faith was active, not passive. He lived it out in the way he served, cared, and loved.

He taught us that living well doesn’t mean being free from struggles, but being anchored in something greater than yourself. His anchor was Christ.

Lessons From the Race
Our first family run became more than just an athletic event, it became a metaphor. Just like in the race, we each move at different paces. Some finish early, some cross the line later, but what matters is that everyone who keeps on going reaches the finish line eventually. Life is no different.

When I think of my uncle, I think of someone who ran his race with perseverance, laughter, and unwavering faith. His finish line came sooner than we hoped, but he finished strong.

The Reflection for Us Who Remain
His passing reminds me of a truth that is both sobering and freeing: our days are numbered. We do not know how long we have, but we do know that each day is a gift. It is not the length of our race that matters, but the way we run it.

For those of us left behind, it is natural to grieve. But alongside the sadness is gratitude. Gratitude for the memories, the love, the lessons, and the life well-lived. My uncle may no longer run beside us physically, but his legacy continues to run in us.

Seize The Day!

The Bible puts it beautifully:

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” – Psalm 90:12

Life is short, but it is also full. And like my uncle, may we choose to live with joy, passion, and faith. May we run our race well, no matter the pace, until the day we too cross the finish line.