Michael Tabaque Cordero

Michael Tabaque Cordero, 81, passed away on May 19, 2025, in Cerritos, California. He was born on July 14, 1943, in the misty, faraway mountains of Timbaban, San Remigio, Antique, a quiet village carved from the highlands of the Philippines. His life was one shaped by resilience, heart, and a kind of steady presence that left a mark on everyone he met.

He was the son of Jose Loquinario Cordero, a soldier and guerrilla officer who served with the United States Armed Forces in the Far East during World War II, and Felisa Songcayawon Tabaque Cordero, a gentle yet strong-willed woman whose warmth grounded the family during long stretches of wartime uncertainty. Like many children of that era, Michael was raised in a home shaped by separation, survival, and the grit of a generation that made do with little but gave abundantly in spirit.

During the turbulent Hukbalahap Rebellion of the 1950s, young Michael demonstrated a remarkable presence of mind. When he saw armed men coming to raid their home, he swiftly and quietly tossed his father’s firearms into the latrine—a discreet act that likely spared his family from great harm.

He would later become known by many names — Dol Mike, Eking, Miko, Tito Mike, Kagawad Mike, and Kap — each one a testament to the many lives he touched, whether in his family, his barangay, or his circle of friends. Michael was, at heart, a man of service. In Negros Occidental, where he spent most of his life, he became a fixture in the barangay in Silay — a presence at local events, respected for his voice in neighborhood affairs and known to always lend a hand when something needed doing.

He worked for many years at the Hawaiian-Philippine Company (HPCO), one of the country’s oldest sugar mills, where he also served as a union leader, advocating for workers with quiet but unwavering conviction. Outside his formal work, he raised pigs to make extra income for his children’s education and supported his extended family however he could.

It was in Silay where he met Merlyn Mendoza, a woman he would fall deeply in love with and eventually marry in 1973. By all accounts, he was smitten from the start — a romance that would evolve into a partnership rooted in care, laughter, and shared commitment. They built their home together in Silay, raised their three children — Jardine, Markram, and Jennifer — and nurtured close relationships with their extended family. Michael remained especially close to Merlyn’s siblings, their spouses and their offspring, many of whom considered him not just family, but a second father.

When his wife’s health declined, Michael returned home and devoted himself fully to her care, tending to her every need until her passing. It was a gesture of love both profound and quiet, true to his nature.

Those who knew Michael well describe a man who loved to drink life — both figuratively and literally. A wide reader, he could quote stories and numbers, but rarely spoke of the fact that he had once topped the national Statistician Exam. He wasn’t interested in accolades. He was more likely to be found cracking open a bottle with friends, engaging in good-natured debate, or offering help to someone in need. He was generous with his time, spontaneous by nature, and yes - stubborn, in the way that only someone deeply principled can be.

Later in life, he became especially drawn to The Prayer of Jabez, a short but powerful scripture from 1 Chronicles 4:10, which became his quiet creed:

“Oh, that You would bless me indeed, and enlarge my territory, that Your hand would be with me, and that You would keep me from evil, that I may not cause pain!”

After moving to California, Michael reconnected with his sister Connie, brother-in-law Lemuel, and the wider Tabaque and Cordero families across the U.S. His days quickly filled up with family errands, church kitchen duties, caring for his grandchildren, recycling runs, and the occasional lotto ticket—where his sharp mind snagged a few small wins. He also spent many hours on long drives with his brother-in-law, cousins, and nephews, making the most of their time together.

His in-laws, cousins, nephews and nieces all adored him - he was a source of light, laughter, and gentle wisdom — a dependable presence whose humor and humility made every gathering better.

Even in his final months, his spirit never dimmed. He bantered over video calls with his brothers Franklin and Eddie, still quick with a joke and generous with his love.

He is now reunited with his parents, his beloved wife Merlyn, his brothers Franklin and Roland, and his sister Connie. He leaves behind his children, their spouses Jun and Rheyen, grandchildren Amy, Jam, and Reese, his surviving siblings Shelah, Eddie, and Marilou, and countless extended family and friends in both the Philippines and the United States.

Michael Cordero lived a full life marked by quiet loyalty, service without spotlight, and the kind of love that simply showed up — again and again. He didn’t need recognition; he just needed to be useful. And he was. In every possible way.

When asked what he wanted to listen to during a long road trip, he grinned and wondered aloud, “Do you have Adele or John Legend?”—not expecting much, just hoping for some music to match the soul of the drive. In many ways, that was Michael: soulful, understated, and unforgettable.

He will be deeply missed.