Real great men are rarely praised in life nor their obituary needs it, as facts are more expressive than adjectives. JP died yesterday. He had been a journalist/column writer all his life, much respected and loved by all, not just in the circle of his profession.
To know him, one has to untie all knots of the many and varied qualities of his person and concentrate on his legacy. How and in what he had contributed to the society and mankind, how he is now remembered, and honoured as an outstanding example professionally and as a person.
He died yesterday. Very early in the morning. So early like he had usually done each day, before anybody else, to the news desk of the editorial. He wore always a neat suit, resistant and protective from pressure; of simple material, closely glued to reality and free from the influence and grips of power. With stitches punctuating the irony, and with precise cut; never a wrinkle that could be interpreted as lack of respect to anyone. Not a suit of a superman or hero, just curiosity impregnating the cloth showing him always young, fresh, ready for the day and whatever might come. His legacy is this suit; symbolically speaking. The suit of rigor, curiosity, courage, honesty and in dependency.
He is not here any more. He went early, on a Monday morning, as if he wished to confront death with the same professionalism and mastery that he faced life. His suit will continue hanging in the editorial. And in the heart of many.
