Farewell, sweet Boyet

“And when you need a friend

Love one another

And when you’re near the end

Love, we got to love,

We got to love one another

Light of the world, shine on me

Love is the answer

Shine on us all, set us free

Love is the answer”

– Todd Rundgren, “Light of the World”

Boyet Sison, my brother, comrade and friend is gone. The man who lit up every room he walked into with his inextinguishable joy for life, food, music, friendship and humor succumbed to cardiac arrest and kidney failure on Black Saturday, two days after surgery to unblock his large intestine. Everyone who knew him is still stunned. Boyet was to turn 59 on the 25th.

Almost 20 years ago, we were part of a group that played hard basketball on a cement court every Tuesday night in Pasig, the bulk of which was made of Noel Zarate’s broadcasting workshop alumni. I played center, while pony-tailed Boyet was the smallest power forward known to man. Though he was undersized and wasn’t really a player, he dove into the game with all that he had, as he always lived.

Boyet had loved music all his life, and never graduated from college because he was already having fun and earning a living as a disc jockey. Lucky for him. He also danced on GMA’s original “Penthouse Live,” and eventually found a way to be a PBA coliseum announcer and radio broadcaster. In 2006, when I was offered a nightly time slot on ANC after the World Tonight, I created the sports magazine show “Hardball,” and I thought Boyet would be great on television. We were a perfect fit, with or without a third partner. I was the historian, the big picture guy. Boyet was the Everyman, the wide-eyed newcomer, the Juan dela Cruz everyone gravitated to. Three Gawad Tanglaw Awards proved us right.

Everyone’s Papa B left an indelible mark on all of us whom he touched. From his stories and jokes to singing and dancing, his bowtie, long hair and old school wardrobe, at first people didn’t take him seriously. It took months to convince program producers to keep him in mind as a back-up host whenever they needed one. I campaigned for him to commentate on the NCAA, too. But as always, he just won over people with the simple way he found life so exquisitely delicious. I joked that he was the lovechild of Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. The world then saw the determined learner I did, the one who shared his delicious homemade baon with everybody. He left everyone with a good vibe. Little misunderstandings didn’t perturb him. Boyet believed relationships were more important than any disagreement, no matter how large. He embraced everyone, unmindful of the risk of being hurt. My dear friend came from a more genteel, refined, sophisticated time. This proud Ilonggo was adamant: once you were part of his life, that would never change. And he made sure you knew it. He unashamedly told you he loved you any time.

Sadly, over the years, Boyet saw his family gradually dwindle. After his father and PR pioneer Ady died, he denied himself a family to be with his mother Rebecca. Over the years, all but one of his siblings passed away. And after over half a century of living two doors down from Reyes Gym, he and his mom sold their home and moved to a condominium nearby. When she suddenly died, Boyet was never the same. Outwardly, he appeared to be the joyous spirit we knew. But he told a few of us how hard it was for him to get over her passing. He didn’t take care of himself, drank, had trouble sleeping. Still, he gave of himself, playing his trademark music mixes on social media during the pandemic. And he was always there for you.

After Hardball was cancelled in 2019, I pulled Boyet into two more TV projects to keep him occupied. He thoroughly loved the work, and was overjoyed when TV Patrol came calling. He so eminently deserved it. The world needed his pure joy, his voice, his laughter, Tito Boyet, Papa B. It still does. Everything was better with Boyet. He took my heart with him. Farewell, sweet friend.