Mourning Monday: In memoriam – No dominion

The first day, Mourning Monday (or monday mourn, was it) was assigned by virtue of alphabetical order. Exited as I am about this I hoped to kick off this new article webseries for Today’s Carolinian.net on a better note. The theme chosen for the monday article was a sombre one, the concept was to commemorate the memory of something or someone passed; a famous person, a bygone movement, or even an idea that has faded from the minds of the collective consciousness. Today however, I mourn a  friend, one so very dear.

I was hesitant at first, to put this down in writing. Trying to make sense of the events of the past few days has been a jarring and exhausting affair, coming to terms with the grief of losing someone so dear, even more so. Nevertheless, I carry this on heavy hearted, but resolute, he wouldn’t have wanted me buckling at the last minute. So if you will dear reader, let me remember my dear friend. He who has passed on in the wee hour, April 5, 2013 a quarter to 2am.

Miguel Nikolo P. Ouano

Honestly one could write volumes on the guy and it would never come close to the real thing. How do you begin talking about a man so brave, so brilliant and so kind?  What adjectives could one use to describe someone who has touched many lives, one who has inspired those close to him to such delirious brilliance, such profound lunacy; one who has given and sacrificed so much for those he cared about?

He was magnetic, that would be close. His great talent was bringing people together, making strangers feel welcome, getting socially awkward weirdos and whomever else to be the best of friends. His laughter and joy was boisterous bordering on insane and it was beautiful. He did all this without a care what people thought of him, he did it out of his great love for those dear to him.

He was poetic in his absurd sense of humor, our near unintelligable forays into that would be one of my closely treasured memories. He made fun of you to get a laugh and set you at your ease, He’d loosen you up and you’d love him for it.

He was brilliant, truly and magnificently. He was one smart motherfucker to put it most eloquently. The true brilliance in that though is that it was an intelligence and wisdom that did not deplete, but instead amplified his warmth. He never put himself on some ivory tower surrounded by laurels and achievements and judged people, he was there beside you on ground level, tapping your shoulder and sharing a laugh.

And even in is brashness and frustration at this imperfect world around him, the core of that was always love. Love for his friends, love for his family, love for his fellow man, and love for the world.

Among a great and many things, he made all this you read before you a possibility. I visited him in what became his last day on earth, a friend of ours contacted and said it was really serious now, and that if we had anything to say to him now would be time.

To a friend whom I have shared verily the best years of my life with, on the precipiece of his, what could I ever say? Every word seemed lodged at my throat, every goddamn tear welling behind my eyes.

I could only harken back to those great, horrible and terrifying days, the strangest of times, the worst of times, the best of times, the greatest of times.

I recalled to him those days when the battle for the student publication was all but lost. He was the last of the editorial board of 2008 that first attempted to revive it. The pure anger and frustration of the times, when the Today’s Carolinian was just a dream that a few of us shared.

A few years on I took the burden of becoming its Editor-in-Chief, I’d always remember telling him, it was rightfully his. He gave his all to seeing it come back, through the constant struggles and even the grave insults that followed before, during and after its revival. He helped us endure and carry it on. Every step of the way. The dream was now a reality, now fulfilled. It was one of the few things I had the strength and conviction to say to him in my visit.

I remembered a certain joke and the conversation that followed it. It came to me right before I gave my little talk on the history of the Today’s Carolinian to the new editorial board and staff.

It was at a party. “Hey Dyl, you’re the first editor in chief after masi and the rest..” and holding up his fingers and counting. “That makes you the 998th Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch!” and what a laugh we shared after that. I told him after Masi that since everyone else at the editorial board had left, he was Editor in Chief for a time also. He replied that his “term” wouldn’t really count if a concise history was to be written.

It was the least I could do for him as my term as EIC ended, to make sure our new and talented entrants would remember the TC and my friend who’s dream was to see it come back, to bring it to the present, to bring it to Today. He helped make it all possible.

We will never forget you, I will never forget you Migs bro. I hope they play jazz and rock in the clearing at the end of the path. Your memory rings true to the lines of that old poem.

“Dead men naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.”

Rest in peace,

my comrade,my brother, my friend.