Former colleagues and friends from Cebu's media industry gathered in an emotional reunion at the Mactan Island Memorial Garden, coming together to mourn the sudden passing of respected journalist Max T. Limpag. The gathering on Thursday night brought together veterans of the local news scene, many of whom hadn't seen each other in years.
A Bond Forged in Newsrooms
The atmosphere outside the Dhalia Room at the memorial garden in Barangay Marigondon, Lapu-Lapu City was filled with both laughter and sorrow. Old friends who had worked together six days a week for over a decade immediately reconnected, picking up conversations as if no time had passed. The group, primarily composed of former SunStar newsroom staff, quickly fell back into their familiar dynamic of honest banter and shared memories.
The media industry in Cebu has always been closely connected, with professionals frequently moving between different organizations yet maintaining strong personal bonds. This fluidity was evident as the group mingled freely, their loud laughter occasionally needing to be hushed during the ongoing Mass nearby—a characteristic the writer notes would be understandable to anyone familiar with the personalities involved.
Remembering Maxi Pre
The author worked alongside Max Limpag for approximately 15 years in the newsroom, beginning when Max joined SunStar a year after the writer was hired as a copyeditor in 1998. Despite their different interests—Max was a football enthusiast and tech expert while the writer preferred tennis and was slower to adopt technology—they developed a deep friendship that transcended these differences.
Their bond strengthened when Max discovered the writer came from a family with three alumni of the Pinoy fraternity at UP Diliman. Max embraced him like a brother, despite belonging to different fraternities, and later asked him to be godfather to his second son. From that point forward, they addressed each other as "Pre"—the Filipino term of endearment for close friends.
A Generous Friend and Colleague
Those within Max's inner circle knew him as exceptionally generous with both his time and knowledge. He attempted to explain QR codes to the writer before they became ubiquitous, patiently continuing his explanations even when they fell on deaf ears. His thoughtfulness extended to regularly sending links to British detective series he knew his friend enjoyed, or even mailing his external hard drive to share content.
Their final exchange occurred just three weeks before Max's passing, with Max messaging "Sharean tika" about another series called Murder Before Evensong. On November 10, Max had posted birthday greetings on the writer's Facebook account, making his sudden loss even more poignant.
This gathering of media veterans, now with graying hair and changed appearances, found themselves on an emotional rollercoaster—one moment sharing joyful memories, the next confronting the heart-wrenching reality of their loss. As one friend expressed in Cebuano, "Bug-at kaayo akong gibati" (I feel very heavy), capturing the collective grief that mere words couldn't fully convey.
The writer concludes by clarifying this isn't a traditional obituary but rather his attempt to process losing someone who had been a constant presence in his life since 1998. After searching through digital albums worried he might have taken their friendship for granted, he found comfort in discovering numerous photos spanning their more than two-decade-long friendship.
