On August 16, 2025, just ten days shy of his 78th birthday, Blamar Gonzales ’66 passed away following complications from cardiac failure. His name, “Blamar,” is the abbreviated syllabication of his grandfather’s name, Blas Marcelino.

At his funeral rites, his lifelong friend and kabatch Tony Cailao ‘66 aka “Nute” stood to speak: “Death is not the opposite of life. It is part of it. The goal is not to live forever; the goal is to create something that will be forever… Let us grieve not, nor wear a saddened countenance, but celebrate—because our Blamar has happened.”

This August, Blamar’s family chose to honor that “foreverness” in a special way. His widow, Josie, along with their son, Blamar Joseph or Beejay, presented a donation to the Upsilon Sigma Phi Alumni Association (USPAAI), which was received by the Association’s Vice President, Raul Paras ‘90, and its Corporate Secretary, Javi Flores ‘89.

At the wake of Blamar, Josie intimated her desire to donate in her husband’s name to Trustee Charvy Parra ’89, who then coordinated with Jo Rabago ’72 for the turnover to take place at the Palenque in Gateway Mall, the regular haunt of the Cubao Rangers. It was the most fitting venue, for toward the end of his life, Blamar had rekindled the deepest of affections for the Upsilon in the company of the Rangers. For Josie, the gift is her way of honoring the image her husband wanted to leave behind — that to his last breath, he was a true Upsilonian, a good brod.

Blamar’s journey with the fraternity was the fruit of a lifelong bond. He and Tony Cailao had been inseparable since Grade 5 in UP Elementary, classmates all the way through UP High. They promised each other: Tony would join Upsilon if Blamar joined Vanguard with him, and Blamar would join Vanguard if Tony joined Upsilon. So they joined Vanguard first, an “ersatz PMA.” For a time, they immersed themselves in Vanguard’s rigid training, but when the corps banned fraternity men, they left so they could fulfill their true pact: to join the Upsilon Sigma Phi together.

That decision changed the course of both their lives.

Brothers Born of Different Mothers

Their story began long before college. When his mother, Tita Belen, an English teacher from UP Iloilo, was reassigned to Diliman, the Gonzales family settled in Area One, just behind the Protestant Chapel. By chance, Blamar became Tony’s classmate and soon his barkada.

The Area One gang was notorious for nicknames. Because he was recovering from jaundice, Blamar would sometimes stop mid-game to ask if his eyes were yellowing again. For that, the boys christened him “Apdo,” Tagalog for bile. The name followed him all the way to the fraternity. Tony, meanwhile, was dubbed Nute, short for “Naughty Boy,” which a Visayan barkada later twisted into “Nu-te boy.”

Area One also steeped Blamar in Upsilon culture. His father, Jorge Gonzales ’39, would later become an Illustrious Fellow. Resident brods boarded in their apartments, among them Manding Remulla Ilas ’53 and Gene Bueno ’59. As a boy, Blamar would quietly observe their fellowships and retell their stories to Tony. “From those early days, he was steeped in the Upsilon spirit, kaya siya die-hard talaga,” Tony said.

Their friendship grew into brotherhood. They biked to school daily, always ended up in the same classes, and later pursued the same courses in Business Administration. Their families grew close as well; the Gonzaleses were a fixture at Tony’s home every Christmas and New Year’s Eve.

Those years were filled with humor. The two pulled pranks on buses near the UP Chapel, leaving angry drivers fuming. At the basement, Blamar’s wit was legendary. Once, a senior brod was courting a coed with a prominent jawline, he quipped to the girl, “Inggit na inggit ako sa relationship ninyo, kasi naman very, very STABLE.” Another time, as Tony tried to impress some coeds, Blamar hollered across the room: “Nute! Ano nangyari sa Gulong ng Palad? Nagkatuluyan ba si Celia at si Ricky? Inampon ba ng magsasaka yung ulilang bata?” Tony’s suave pose crumbled in laughter and embarrassment.

“That was Blamar,” Tony recalled. “Funny, unpredictable, and unafraid to embarrass you for the sake of a laugh.”

Career and Trials

After college, their paths diverged. However, even as Tony’s career took him abroad as a Citibank expatriate in Asia and later to Latin America, he always found time to follow a tradition. At the stroke of midnight every August 26, he would always be the first to greet Blamar on his birthday.

Blamar, for his part, thrived as a pharmaceutical “detailman” (we now call them sales representatives) with Lederle (later Pfizer). He exceeded sales targets, drove his own car, and was being groomed for promotion. Yet he left that career to join a cousin in what was then the country’s most significant deep-sea fishing venture.

A Daughter’s Tribute

In a heartfelt piece published in The Philippine Star, his daughter, Iris Gonzales, recalled the lessons her father left behind: teaching her and her siblings how to drive, handle accidents and emergencies, and deal with people from all walks of life. “He was our personal Rescue 911, and boy, did he come swiftly, all the time without fail, wherever I was.”

There was humor too, belly-aching laughter from his antics, like when he suggested making his own “PRESS” car sticker that actually read “DO NOT PRESS.” There was inventiveness: carpentry, auto mechanics, even crafting furniture out of old wood in his later years. For him, work was prayer.

Her fondest image was of a father whistling in crowded carnivals so his restless children could find their way back. “With that sound, our daddy was like the Pied Piper, luring us back home whenever we lost our way—in crowds and in life.”

“He loved us in his own sweet way that was second to none,” she wrote. “He taught us how to survive almost everything in this thing called life — hopefully including his absence.”

The Brother Who Gave Even When It Hurt

In the years that followed, Blamar became known as the brother who gave everything to help others. He would sell belongings and even borrow money, just to extend help.

His widow’s donation to USPAAI was, in her words, a way of “institutionalizing” that spirit. It ensured that the image of Blamar as a good Upsilonian, selfless, generous, loyal, would endure beyond his lifetime.

In his eulogy, Tony Cailao reminded all that “grief is the price of love” and vowed to hold on to Blamar’s “foreverness—scattering it as starlights across the firmament.” Quoting Wordsworth, he urged the brothers not to grieve the loss but to find strength in what remains. That spirit lives on in the Gonzales family’s donation to USPAAI, ensuring the values Blamar embodied—loyalty, humor, generosity, and resilience—will continue to guide future generations. For his brothers, he will always be the mischievous Apdo of Area One; for his children, the father whistling in the crowd; for his wife, the partner in prayer and pilgrimage. Though he has taken his final journey, his foreverness endures, scattered like light across the fraternity and the family he loved.

– With contributions from Tony Cailao ‘66 aka Nute and Iris Gonzales