Briccio Demetillo Suelto

Briccio Demetillo Suelto, known simply as Brix, was never one to seek attention. He moved through life quietly, a man of few words, avoiding the spotlight even as his actions spoke volumes. But now, as his family and friends reckon with the void left by his passing on October 10, 2024, remembering him compels us to tell his story—a task almost impossible to fulfill in mere words. How do you capture the essence of someone whose presence, while subtle, touched so many? His absence is heavy, like the silence after a song that has ended too soon.

Brix had a gift for observation, always standing at the edges of a crowd, eyes sharp, absorbing everything. He spoke only when needed, and when he did, his words had weight. He had the rare ability to cut through the noise, delivering truth in a way that made people stop, reflect, and nod in agreement. “Oo nga naman (That’s it),” they would say, the truth laid bare and undeniable.

At home in Folsom, California, where he shared a quiet life with his wife of 25 years, Jane Mercado-Suelto, and their children, Jian and Xavi, Brix was the calm in the center of life’s storms.

Others may have viewed Brix as a comrade, mentor, teacher, friend, and hero. Yet, of all the roles Brix played, none gave him greater joy than being a family man—a devoted husband to Jane and a loving father to his two children. In 2011, Brix and Jane moved to the U.S. and settled in Folsom, California, where they found a close-knit circle of friends who became their “village”—a community that felt like extended family. This support system helped them raise their children while ensuring that Filipino values and culture remained at the heart of their home.

Brix embraced life as a stay-at-home dad with enthusiasm and his characteristic excellence, managing the household with precision and warmth. He was the family’s master chef, driver, and unwavering supporter, always present for his children’s academic, musical, and sports endeavors, and a steady partner to Jane in her career. Known for his culinary genius, Brix delighted friends and family with his signature dishes—adobo (and its crispy flakes variation), corned beef soup, pesto sardines pasta, and holiday potluck favorites. For Brix, food was more than sustenance; it was a way to connect with others, express love, and build community.

This year, on July 5, Brix celebrated his 60th birthday, entering senior life for only a fleeting moment before moving on, as if to say with his usual calm, “I’m okay. I’ll go ahead.”

In his final moments, Brix was surrounded by love. His mother Erlinda, brothers Dino and Martin Jr, and sister Mariel gathered with Jane and their children at Mercy San Juan Medical Center, while his two other brothers, Fr. Gregor and Mark Henry, joined them online from Davao City, Brix’s hometown. He had slipped into a coma following a massive hemorrhagic stroke on October 5, and despite their hopes, Brix quietly slipped away five days later, leaving behind a life well-lived.

Even in death, Brix found a way to give. His final gift was his body—an organ donor, helping others to live longer. As his body was escorted through the hospital in an Honor Walk on October 14, a poignant tribute from the organ donation team, it was as if Brix had made one last heroic gesture: to ensure others had more time.

His friends, in their grief, clung to the idea that Brix, who was always precisely on time for gatherings, must have left at the right moment too. “It seems God needed another angel to watch over us,” a university friend mused during a virtual tribute.

Brix’s story begins in the Philippines, where his heart always remained. As a young man, he dedicated much of his time to mentoring student organizations at the University of the Philippines. There, he pursued multiple degrees—Fisheries, Economics, and a Master’s in Urban Planning—all while working tirelessly for social change. His time with the Alliance of Concerned Dormitories (ACD), Economics Towards Consciousness (ETC), and Sandigan para sa Mag-aaral at Sambayanan (SAMASA) cemented his reputation as a mentor, leader, and friend.

Brix was actively involved in the movement that culminated in the 1986 EDSA People Power, standing with millions of Filipinos to help restore democracy and end the Marcos dictatorship. In the aftermath of the regime’s fall, Brix played a vital role in rebuilding the Presidential Council for Youth Affairs (PCYA), helping reshape the agency to align with the nation’s renewed democratic ideals. His work didn’t stop there—he later applied his expertise as a business consultant and joined forces with university friends to launch a start-up, which became a pioneering occupant of the UP Technology Hub in Diliman, Quezon City.

Brix further broadened his horizons by earning a Master’s in Business Administration (MBA) from the Theseus International Management Institute in Sophia Antipolis, France —a testament to his lifelong commitment to learning and personal growth.

At the turn of the millennium, Brix transitioned to academia, joining fellow UP alumni to teach Arts Management at the De La Salle - College of Saint Benilde in Manila. There, he shared his sharp business acumen to dismantle the stereotype of the “starving artist,” equipping young creatives with the tools to thrive.

Brix’s legacy in those communities continues to ripple outward, even now. From October 12 to 20, his family and friends gathered virtually for a week-long tribute. Jane, Jian, and Xavi joined people from around the world who shared stories of Brix—the mentor who listened, the comrade who stood by them, the quiet hero who inspired others to be better. Among them were current and former government officials, lawyers, journalists, educators, doctors, and activists—all individuals whose lives Brix touched. It was as if, in their shared grief, they could still hear him urging them on: “Laban lang (Keep the fight).”

In the days and months ahead, we know that those whose lives Brix touched—those he mentored and guided—will carry his legacy forward, not out of obligation, but from the profound impact he left on them. With the same quiet resolve he embodied, they are certain to continue the work he started layering bricks by bricks, and some will no doubt pursue projects in his honor, knowing it’s what he would have wanted—not recognition, but meaningful change.

And so, we say farewell to Brix Suelto, a quiet hero who never sought praise but deserved it nonetheless. His life reminds us that the measure of a person is not found in grand gestures but in the quiet ways they lift others, inspire change, and leave the world better than they found it.