Loss after loss. Dearest friends of four to five decades have been going ahead, bequeathing a random trove of recollections.
Somehow, the deepest memory of Peque Gallaga that sticks to mind and heart is of him playing a guitar and singing in almost hushed tones by the driveway of the Luzurriaga compound in Bacolod City. Strolling on the leafy yard towards dusk, I noticed him seated on a chair, strumming softly while a couple of his kids played around him. The song was To Ramona by Bob Dylan, not really one of his popular ones. But then Peque’s embrace of music was undeniably broad.