Fifty years, countless memories, one steady love—still holding hands, still each other’s home. ✨💛

Vir’s Story

After passing the CPA board exam in 1971, I applied for a job with the NGA in Quezon City and was eventually assigned as a Regional Accountant in Iloilo. Not long after, our Regional Director introduced a new staff member to us—Shirley Arboleda, hired as the Accountant for Antique.

I still remember that first encounter. Shirley was clearly capable and confident, and yes—she was a CPA and a standout in her own right. She also had a boyfriend who was a doctor, and everyone teased that doctors always had the advantage. I quietly laughed along… and secretly decided I had to do my best.

Before Shirley could fully start in  Antique, I was asked to train her on the work. The orientation usually lasted two weeks, but I admit—those weeks felt too short. Shirley was quick to learn, and being around her was easy. Somewhere between the training, the office gatherings, conventions, luncheons, and even beach outings, our friendship began to deepen.

At first, I couldn’t even name what I was feeling—whether it was admiration, affection, or something more. Then life unfolded in a way that tested Shirley’s heart. Misunderstandings arose, and the relationship she had ended painfully. I watched quietly, praying for her peace, and hoping—without demanding anything—that she would be okay.

One afternoon, while I was working late, Shirley dropped by my office and noticed I wasn’t feeling well. Without making it a big deal, she stepped out and came back with medicine. It was such a simple act—yet it stayed with me. In that moment, I understood something clearly: real love often begins in quiet ways—through care, kindness, and presence.

From then on, what I felt was no longer just attraction. It became a gentle certainty in my heart: this was the woman I wanted to spend my life with.

Giving thanks for the way we were, the way we are, the way we'll be forever.. ✨💛

Shirley’s Story

If I’m honest, love didn’t arrive for me with fireworks. It came softly—through friendship, through time, and through the steady way Vir showed up.

During one of our outings, Vir chose a song from the jukebox: “Help Me Make It Through the Night.” Later, at another gathering, he sang it. I can’t fully explain it, but something about that moment stayed with me—like God was quietly making things clearer.

From then on, we were often together. When I traveled to Antique for work, Vir would sometimes accompany me—first to the bus station, then even all the way to Antique. He didn’t do it for attention. He did it because he cared—because he wanted me to feel safe and supported. That kind of love is rare: the love that protects without controlling, and stays without demanding.

There was also a turning point in my heart—when I realized my priorities had changed. The plans I once thought mattered most didn’t feel as important anymore. When my mother suggested I resign from Manila and work in Iloilo instead, I didn’t hesitate—because deep inside, I already knew that being near Vir felt like coming home.

After the difficult ending of my previous relationship, I decided to explore life in America. Through my brother Joe (who was with the US Navy), arrangements were made for me. Even then, Vir made his intentions clear—half serious, half teasing—that he would wait for me, but not forever.

In America, there were a few suitors, but none felt right—none felt like the kind of partnership I was being prepared for. And the truth was simple: my heart had already chosen.

So I came back.

I left America on August 7, 1976, and a week later, on August 14, 1976, Vir and I were married at the Jaro Cathedral—a day made even more meaningful by the love and help of family who made everything possible.

That wedding came with blessings we tried to carry into daily life—blessings that taught us how to love not only in happy seasons, but also in ordinary and difficult ones: to nourish each other, grow stronger together, be wise with what we have, share joys and sorrows, care for family, live with peace, and remain true friends.

And now, after 50 years, I can say this with a grateful heart: our love has lasted not because it was perfect, but because we kept choosing each other—again and again—through God’s grace.