I got goosebumps when I saw online the long lines of people along the highway, from Isabela all the way to Quirino, waiting for one last glimpse of Dax’s coffin. I was moved by the countless testimonies on social media of his kindness, and by the stories of provincial projects that have touched lives and will continue to benefit generations to come.

Together, they are a testament to the kind of person and public servant Dax was.

I have read many posts asking life’s most painful question: Why, of all people, someone like him?

It is a question born of hurt, disbelief, and panghihinayang, for all the things that will now remain unfinished, and for all the things we imagined he would still do.

His loss is profound, not only for his family, but for Quirino and for the country he served.

And yet, perhaps Dax’s story was never meant to end with his death.

His life has simply taken another form.

His passing made people curious. They searched for who he was, and what they found was not merely a politician’s biography, but the traces of a life spent serving: projects that endure, work done with discipline, and countless stories of kindness and love for people.

And perhaps this is where grief begins to make room for hope.

Because what Dax left behind are not merely memories. They are seeds.

Seeds he planted quietly over 25 years of service, through people he helped, communities he strengthened, projects he built, and lives he touched.

We mourn the one who was lost.
But from the seeds he planted, many more can grow.

That, perhaps, is the mystery of a life lived well: when the person is gone, the good does not disappear with him. It is carried by others. It takes root in places he may never see. It continues in people who were inspired by his example and in communities that will benefit from work he began.

For 25 years, Dax served with integrity. And through that integrity, he brought dignity to Quirino and its people.

Now those seeds belong to all of us.

May they grow in the people he inspired. May they take root in those who still believe that public service can be an act of love. And may his life remind us that doing what is right, even when no one is watching, is never wasted.

Dax’s story continues not because we refuse to let go, but because the good he planted remains.

Perhaps this is one small answer to the painful question of “Why him?”

We may never understand why his life had to end when it did. But we can choose what his life will mean after it ends.

We can carry the seeds forward.

Quirino is no longer just a name on a map. Through Dax’s life and service, it has found a place in the hearts and minds of Filipinos who may never have known the province before.

May you honor him by continuing the good he began.

May you carry forward the vision he had for the province he loved.

And may Dax’s life remind us that one person, serving with truth and putting others first, can plant something that outlives him, something that, in time, may grow far beyond what he could ever have imagined.