All of us have dreams, and many of us are blessed with the opportunity to pursue them. From an early age, we obsess about them, learn more about them, perfect our craft through years and years of study and training, and eventually, perhaps, make a living out of them. They become our passion, the song of our hearts, the thing we remind ourselves of whenever life starts to become bleak and meaningless.
But for some of us, life stops us in our tracks long before we even begin to build our dreams, and life can seemingly become “bleak and meaningless” early on. It is easy for us to feel sorry for those who showed promise and potential but fell short of living out their aspirations. But among this group, a rare and unexpected few surprise us. They transcend their limitations and teach us that there is so much more to life than simply chasing our dreams.
Such was the life of Ase.
Ehnard Ase Conopio was the eldest of three siblings. Early on in his life, his parents knew there was something different about him. From a young age, he learned to be organized, putting away his toys after playing with them. When other kids were quick to spend what little money they received on toys, Ase would choose to save his money and buy things that would be useful for their home. His parents observed that he was a very responsible young man. He took his studies seriously and reaped honors in school. As the kuya, he was known to be protective of his sisters, always asking what time they would be home from school or from any activity.
Ase was also passionate about his faith. He found joy in serving in their local parish church, much to the delight of his parents. At times, however, he had a tendency to go all in with his efforts in service, staying out late or even missing meals. His parents would have a word or two with him about it.
But the thing he was truly passionate about was cooking.
He was in his element in the kitchen. He moved like a conductor orchestrating a symphony of flavors—with every beat of the whisk, every thud of the knife on the chopping board, and every dash of spice, which he never measured, that he sprinkled into his signature dish: pastil.
He was chosen by his school to present his dish at school fairs, and he would sell out…always. Everyone was raving about it, and he eventually decided to sell it in school. As expected, everything would be sold by the end of the day. When the school canteen noticed that pastil had become a trendy food, they decided to sell their own version as well. But Ase’s recipe continued to outsell theirs…every single time.
He approached his business the same way he approached his responsibilities at home, in school, and in church—with care, passion, and exceptional dedication. He would stay up late at night preparing his products even when he wasn’t feeling well. He wouldn’t compromise the quality of his food, even when he was selling it like hotcakes.
Everything came to a halt when he noticed a lump on the right side of his neck. He then began experiencing episodes of fever and eventually a noticeable drop in weight. In 2023, he was diagnosed with progressive Hodgkin’s lymphoma.
Just like that, everything changed for the once-dynamic life of Ase. Chemotherapy sessions became part of his schedule. He started to tire easily, to the point that he could barely muster the strength to walk from one end of the room to the other.
It is heartbreaking to see a once-active child deteriorate before your eyes in a matter of months—especially for a parent. The son you had always depended on to care for his sisters became dependent on everyone else’s care. The budding chef who had moved so effortlessly around the kitchen became so weak, spending years in and out of the hospital.
But just when everyone thought they had seen everything there was to know about Ase, he kept surprising them.
His mother recounted a moment when Ase was in critical condition in the hospital. He was eventually stabilized and placed under close monitoring, but he was roomed with patients who were either being revived or experiencing delirium. She worried that he wouldn’t last long in such an environment, as those scenes would normally dampen anyone’s spirit—let alone someone who was still recovering.
She wanted to know what he was thinking about at that time, and she wasn’t ready for his answer.
In a calm manner, he told her that he was praying for every patient who was roomed with him.
The Ruth Foundation was blessed with the opportunity to take care of Ase. For more than a year, our doctors, nurses, social workers, and other staff were able to assist him not only with his medical needs, but also with his emotional and spiritual needs. We provided free consultations, counseling, and prayers for him and his family throughout his battle with Hodgkin’s lymphoma.
But aside from these services, we also had the opportunity to grant one of his wishes.
The TRF staff, together with Ase’s family, got to witness firsthand how the maestro made magic in the kitchen. For one Saturday, the TRF session hall was converted into an open kitchen, where he got to cook one of his dream dishes: caldereta.
It was as if something had been reignited within him. He readily positioned himself before the ingredients. Although visibly frail and in pain, he still directed the kitchen, this time with the help of his Mom, Dad, and two sisters.
As the months passed, his pain grew increasingly unbearable. His appearance became less and less like the chubby kid he once was, yet his spirit remained indomitable.
“Alam naman niya na ’di na siya gagaling,” said his Mom. “Pero hindi ibig sabihin na susuko siya.”
The staff felt an overwhelming heaviness with every home visit and teleconsultation they had with the family. But as long as Ase had the will to live, they, together with the rest of the family, had the strength to care for him.
On August 31, 2026, Ase peacefully passed on to eternity.
“Nung normal lang lahat, simpleng problema ang bigat na ng lahat. Pero nung nagkasakit si Kuya, nung na-confine siya, nung na-chemo siya… 7 days, 11 days, 21 days, 2 months. Nalaman mo, na-realize mo, mas na-appreciate mo yung life.”
Ase had a dream he may not have lived long enough to fulfill. But what he taught every one of us far surpassed what anyone could have expected of him. It is because of patients like him, and the generosity and kind hearts of willing donors that we are able provide palliative and hospice care to those who need it the most in our communities.
He was a testament to the fact that life—taken with all its sweetness and bitterness, given the right amount of time and allowed to reach the right temperature, seasoned with a perfect dash of joy and cooked with love—is still worth living.
No matter how short it may be.