As you turn 90 on Dec. 26, Sir, I find myself returning to words I once wrote — not to revise history, but to remember it. Ninety years is a long arc of a life, one that has witnessed the rise and fall of governments, the shifting tides of nations, and the enduring struggle between conflict and peace.

Time has moved gently since then. Your steps are slower now, your voice softer, your once-boundless energy tempered by the years. You may no longer possess the same vigor or the commanding eloquence with which you once held audiences for hours, speaking without notes, weaving fact, wisdom, and vision into a single living narrative.

Yet though time has claimed its due, your vision remains — steady, luminous, and enduring.

There are men who walk into history, and there are those who shape it. You, Sir, belong to the latter.

For nearly three decades, I had the rare honor of walking beside you — through the halls of power, through airports and motorcades, through long nights of travel. In the many countries we visited, I saw firsthand how deeply respected you were by heads of state and government, and how naturally you moved among presidents, prime ministers, and royalty — not with pretense, but with an ease born of trust earned over time. Beyond the five-time Speaker and Asian statesman, I came to know the dreamer who believed peace was possible, and that politics, at its best, could serve both national progress and the human spirit.

In one Southeast Asian country, we flew by helicopter from the capital to the countryside with the host country’s Deputy Prime Minister and several regional leaders. Upon arrival, I was assigned to another vehicle while you rode in “Vehicle No. 1.”

On the return flight, however, all the helicopters looked identical. By the time I reached the takeoff area, everyone had already boarded. Fearing I might be left behind, I entered one helicopter and waited. From my window, I noticed security officers running about anxiously, calling out a name in their local accent: “Aldwin! Aldwin!”

When I stepped out and introduced myself, their relief was immediate.

The helicopters, it turned out, had refused to take off because you, Sir, would not leave without me.

When I finally boarded the correct helicopter, the Deputy Prime Minister exclaimed, “Oh, here he is!” Inside were some of the region’s most prominent leaders — a then Deputy Prime Minister who would later become Prime Minister, a former President who would return to office, a senator, and a parliamentary speaker. All of them laughed with you, amused that the entire flight had been delayed because you insisted I be with you.

Even in the company of giants, you looked after me. It was not only your kindness that moved me, but the quiet dignity with which you treated everyone. Wherever we went, you never failed to introduce me — even to presidents, prime ministers, and royalty. In rooms filled with power, you made me feel seen.

That was your way. You carried greatness without arrogance, authority without distance. You taught me that true stature is measured not by how high one stands, but by how gently one lifts others.

Thank you, Sir, for the immense legacy you leave our nation in economic development — reforms and laws that reshaped everyday Filipino life. The Dollar Remittance Program gave dignity and security to millions of overseas Filipino families. The Bases Conversion Law transformed former military camps into engines of growth such as Bonifacio Global City and Clark. The Build-Operate-Transfer Law laid the groundwork for modern public-private partnerships. The Philippine Economic Zone Law opened pathways for investment, jobs, and regional development.

These initiatives did more than spur growth; they helped stabilize the nation, reduce poverty, and affirm your belief that peace is inseparable from shared prosperity.

Above all, thank you for your tireless and courageous pursuit of peace.

In the early 1990s, when peace seemed distant, you reached out to insurgents and secessionists — from RAM-SFP-YOU to CPP-NPA-NDF, and to the MNLF and MILF. You crossed deserts to meet Muammar Qaddafi, convinced that dialogue could succeed where force had failed. You endured criticism for daring to talk. History has since vindicated that courage. You taught us that peace is not the absence of conflict, but the triumph of understanding.

Your vision transcended borders through institutions you founded and nurtured — the International Conference of Asian Political Parties, the Asian Parliamentary Assembly, the International Association of Parliamentarians for Peace, the Asian Peace and Reconciliation Council, and your Interfaith Dialogue initiative at the United Nations. Through these, you advanced Asia’s collective voice and placed the Philippines at the center of global conversations on peace and reconciliation.

Yet life was never without sorrow. You lost your mother at nine, your father in your twenties, and your beloved daughter KC in a fire that broke every father’s heart. You endured defeat, betrayal, and near-bankruptcy. Still, you never allowed bitterness to take root. You met pain with faith and adversity with grace. Even critics you answered with silence, for dignity was your quietest defense.

Happy 90th birthday, Sir — my mentor, my leader, my Tatay. You no longer need to chase history; you are part of it — written not in stone or bronze, but in laws that uplift lives, in institutions that foster peace, and in the enduring hope you leave behind.

As twilight descends, your legacy endures — glowing softly with the light of a life well lived, of a dream that outlasted its dreamer. For those of us who once walked beside you, it will always be enough to have seen the world through your eyes — and to have called you, simply and proudly, Sir.