Wheelchair

-

Previously:
Better Days

"Three of my Tita Deng's siblings died in the past few years. One of them was a brother she dearly loved. He was her housemate, her companion. Her friend. She never really recovered, I think. She is turning 88 years old this year, and our talks are now full of her laments in life. How difficult it is to be old ... and weak. Her increasing inability to walk. How lonely she feels."



While the rest of the nation were visiting the dead, I decided to see the living.  It has been a few months since the last time I took Tita Deng out. I was always too busy, too tired, too preoccupied with work, friends and boys. Next time na lang (I'd do it next time), I'd tell myself when I'd wake up the next day with a hangover after a night of partying.

And I found myself  saying that every week. Next time na lang. There was always an excuse I used to assuage my guilt but I knew I should see her soon. So last weekend, I called her up and told her I would be picking her up for lunch the next day. A date with her always takes time. I'd have to go to Antipolo to fetch her, then we would go to wherever we were going to eat, then I'd have to bring her back, before I head home. All in all, it takes about eight hours.




I slept early the previous night so I'd wake up early. I had already researched some restaurants we could try and I was looking forward to spending time with her. Tita Deng and I always had fun. We would laugh and talk about many things, she always had a sense of humor that hasn't been dulled by old age.

I was shocked when I saw her. She came out in a wheelchair, looking very frail and thin. Apparently, her health has deteriorated dramatically. She can no longer walk because her knees hurt due to arthritis and she is now forced to use a wheelchair, something she had always dreaded.

The process of getting her inside the car was strenuous. I had to lift her and put her in the passenger seat. Then, I had to lift her wheelchair and put it in the trunk. By the time it was done, I was sweating heavily.

Once I got in, I hugged her. "Tita Deng, kamusta ka?" I said.

She started to speak but I couldn't understand her words. Later on, I learned she fell down and hurt herself badly in September, and that she may have had a mild stroke. Sometimes, her speech becomes slurred and she finds it difficult to be understood.

I looked at her and suddenly, she really seemed ... old. Matanda na talaga si Tita. I suppose I always had a feeling she would live forever, that she would always be around. I was getting sentimental and sad, but I hid it from her.

I knew what she would like is for us to have a normal day together and act like everything's the same. So I greeted her cheerfully and told her how beautiful she looked in her blue dress.

We went to Eastwood and decided to have lunch at a Thai restaurant since Tita Deng loves spicy food.We had pad thai, tom yum goong, steamed rice, and squid with garlic. I noticed her hands were trembling and she would spill some food on her lap, so I arranged her napkin so her dress wouldn't get soiled. I regaled her with stories; my sister's pregnancy, my travels, plans for Christmas, updates about work.

"So Tita, anong balita sa iyo? (So Tita, what's new with you?)"

"Alam mo ba, natumba ako isang beses. Actually ilang beses. Mahina na talaga ang tuhod ko. Masakit dahil sa arthritis. (You know what, I fell down once. Actually, several times. My knees are really weak now.  It hurts because of arthritis.)"

She winced and I could imagine how it must pain her. "Nabagsakan pa nga ako ng cabinet eh (A cabinet even fell down on me)," she said.

"Oh my God!!! Nakakaloka!!! (What the fuck!!!!)" The cabinet she was referring to was a big one that's around five feet ten inches tall. She said people found her with blood on her face due to a gash, but otherwise, she was unhurt.

"Nakakaloka! (The fuck!) Akalain mo, natumba ka na at nabagsakan ka ng ng cabinet pero ... buhay ka pa rin! (Imagine, you fell down and got trapped by a cabinet but look ... you're still alive!!" I said.

"Loco ka talaga! (You're such a smart ass!)" she said and we both laughed. I hugged her and smelled her shampoo on her hair.

"Aba .. naligo ka!" I said.

"Siempre, may date tayo eh," she replied, her eyes twinkling.



Afterwards, we transferred to another restaurant and ordered ube cake and a green mango-watermelon shake. Later on, I took her around the mall in her wheelchair because I know she likes seeing the shops and people watching. She doesn't go out anymore, and the only times she gets to see the outside world is when I take her out. I would tease her and push her wheelchair hard so we would be running across the hallway, and we'd be laughing afterwards.

"Para naman akong bata nito," she told me with a smile.

I remember something I read about how life comes full circle as we age. From a baby to an old man or woman. Once we rode strollers, later we'd be straddling wheelchairs. The wheel of fortune turns and sometimes we find ourselves right back where we started.






Time is running out. I don't know how much time is left for Tita Deng, and there's really nothing to be done about it. We all have to take our exit, at some point. She has had a long life, a good life and perhaps that is enough.

-

The Most Beautiful Thing to a Woman

-

Written on the 8th of August, in the Year of the Lord 2012 while monsoon rains battered Manila and flooded the city and nearby provinces



Dear Shobe,

So ... thirty one, married, pregnant and alcohol-free. Who would have thought all that could happen in a year? Sometimes when I think of you I barely remember the girl you used to be. Things have changed dramatically, haven't they.

Clad in Marc Jacobs and Michael Kors in your beautiful home near L.A.'s coast, you are the perfect example of the girl living the American dream. God, Shobe ... you made it. Your fairytale came true; the prince, the castle, the jewels (I'm kidding!).

Sometimes, I envy you and the life you have. I suppose what I envy the most is how structured it is, how ... stable. Like everything's in place, things are exactly where they're supposed to be. No more roller coaster rides, no more lonely cold nights. Ang saya diba? Alam mo yan.

When I hear your stories: refurbishing your home, entertaining the in-laws, and the body-racking nine-month pregnancy journey, it's a whole new world. I can't help but feel how different our lives have become. And how, it will become even more different.



June, 2012

"By the way, I have two great news for you," you texted me. "I got a job at Kaiser, my dream hospital. Plus I am seven weeks pregnant! I am sooooo happy :):

"Hello Uncle!!!"

Time  stood still. I felt a mixture of emotions. I was shocked. Oh ... my ... God. Me??? Uncle???? I swear Shobe, I'll order your children to call me Kuya!

But as I stared at the photo of the small fetus growing in your womb, I couldn't help but be thrilled, excited, and ... strangely enough, I was scared too. I didn't understand why then, and I suppose I unconsciously pushed the thought at the back of my head. I wasn't uncomfortable about how I was feeling about it. But as your birthday approached, I told myself: it's time to face it.

And after some honest reflecting, I realized ... that I was afraid of losing you. I was scared of losing the girl who has always been there for me. I recognize that having a baby will mean a shift in priorities and I guess the selfish part of me didn't want to lose the spotlight.

You know how everyone says we have such an amazing relationship. And we do, no? We've always taken care of each other, and I got used to it. You've loved me unconditionally, you were always there for me: when I needed someone to listen, someone to cry to, laugh with, drink with, party with, and of course, dance with! You and I have a special bond, alam mo yan. You and I, it's always been that way ever since we were small.

Badj and I had dinner last weekend, and she was telling me how your priorities change once you have a child. No matter how much you want to see your friends, or go out: you just don't have the energy or the time for it anymore. Things do get better after awhile, she says, once you have adjusted.

I must admit I was saddened by what Badj said. But then I remembered what a wise friend once told me: life has its different seasons. And I realize what I must do: it's my turn to give more. To understand when you will be too busy, or too tired from work and from taking care of the baby to catch up and talk. Or if we can no longer travel as much as before. Or dance like we used to.

Because something is going to happen to you. Something magical.






In the film Venus, which tells the story of an old man (Maurice) falling in love with a young girl (Jessie), there was a scene where Maurice brought Jessie to the National Gallery and showed her Diego Velázquez's "The Toilet of Venus".

They were both gazing at the painting and Maurice tells Jessie a woman's body is the most beautiful thing to most men. What is the most beautiful thing to a woman? Jessie then asks him with a quizzical look on her face. Maurice gives her an answer which I think will ring truthfully in your heart: her first child.

You, my little sister, will soon gaze upon the most beautiful thing you have ever seen. Your first child. I can only imagine how that would feel like.

And so, if you remember what I told you right after your pregnancy news, it's true. I am overjoyed for you. It looks like you really are the girl who has everything. =) I promise to be there for you in whatever way you need me to be.

So happy birthday my love. I am excited to see you again, and to meet the newest member of our growing family. I miss you terribly.

Love,
Ahia
-

A Wedding and a Funeral

-

I. Here Comes The Bride

My sister was getting married. Shobe, as I fondly call her, was marrying Junie, her boyfriend of nine years. Armed with a Barong Tagalong and accompanied with seven of my closest friends, I flew to Davao to attend the wedding. I had been preparing myself for this.

"OMG!! Bakit ang dami ninyo? (Why are there so many of you?)" my sister Honeylet asked me.

"Bakit? (Why?) I need my own entourage. Akala mo ikaw lang?" I replied.

"Hahaha. Gaga ka talaga. Baka matalo niyo pa ang entourage ko!" she said laughing.

"Humanda ka! (Be ready!)" I said.



A month ago, Carlo, Fran and I observed a wedding in the island of Boracay.

"How strange no," I said. "How weddings make you sentimental. Every time I witness two people getting married, it makes me want to get married as well. It makes you feel you're ready. All of a sudden, you become the relationship girl."

They both nodded, agreeing. We were all lost in our respective reveries while sipping mojitos at the hotel's bar.

"But then, when you're in the club and some cute guys are flirting with you, you suddenly think 'parang hindi pa ako ready' (or, maybe not)," I said and we burst out laughing.

"Exactly!" Carlo said. "That's my ultimate test. If I can give up all the fun of flirting for one guy."

"Oh God. It's just soooooo hardddd honey," I said and we laughed. We all know what I meant

She was the most beautiful girl I have ever seen, that was the first thought in my head when I saw her. Her face shone with a light that revealed the happiness she was feeling.

"Oh my God. Is that a Vera Wang?" my friends asked me when they saw her wedding gown.

"Yep. Love?" I replied. "But then again: what do you expect? She's that kind of girl. She deserves the best." 

The gown was my present for her. She chose it and I wanted her to have the wedding of her dreams.

The ceremony took place in a garden overlooking the sea. The sun was setting and the dying light cast a golden glow on everyone. Their vows were simple but true. My sister started with "I believe in the life we have..." I cried, of course.

I was asked to say something during the dinner.  "And now, we would hear the bride's brother speak," the host said.

That was my cue. I stood up, and walked to the center of the room. I was nervous. I had little time to prepare and only made notes in my head. I looked around and saw the happy faces of the bride and the groom, their friends and families. Oh how everybody glowed.

"For those who don't know who I am, I'm Honeylet's brother," I said, introducing myself. "I used to say she is my favorite sister in the whole wide world. She always answers by saying I really didn't have a choice."

The audience laughed. I saw my sister smile. It was our favorite joke.

"During the past year, I've seen my sister got so stressed planning for the wedding. It was really a roller coaster ride. And I wondered why people made such a fuss about weddings. And I realized it's because they want their weddings to be perfect.

I paused. "Because they want their marriages to be perfect."

"I used to have a friend," I continued. "Her husband left her after they've been married for almost 20 years. And she told me, 'Marriages can be so fragile pala talaga no?'"

"Relationships are fragile," I said.

Relationships are fragile. I've learned that myself. I thought of all the lovers I had and the promises we never kept. I thought of all the failed romances in the world and the odds that two people will love each other forever.

I brought back my focus to the wedding. "Sometimes, I can't help but be worried after seeing many couple divorce or end up unhappy. I mean ... she's my only sister."

"But then I realize I really don't have anything to worry. Because we have the best relationship heroes one can possibly have in this world," I said and stopped.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to give a toast to my Mom and Dad who I've seen have loved each other more and more as they grew older. They've taught us how to love our partners, how to care and nurture each other, how to be patient and understanding."

My parents were stunned. I knew they didn't expect that. But I wanted to give them credit for what they have achieved in their 30 years of marriage. Without knowing it, they have inspired me and made me wish I can have a love like that.

"They are my relationship heroes," I said. "And I'd like to think that a love like theirs can happen all the time."

"Shobe, Junie, masaya ako para sa inyo (I am happy for you both)," I continued. "It's a beautiful day and I am excited for the life you will have. Mahal ko kayo (I love you both) and I will always be here for you."

Hours later, my friends and my sister's friends have finally depleted the open bar of its entire contents. Everyone was laughing and smiling, and dancing and taking lots of photos.

The night was ending and I was tired but happy. I looked around and I saw how everyone was having such a great time. I went to the bar to scavenge for any last bit of alcohol and I saw my ex boyfriend Marvlitz there. He was my first boyfriend and we were together when I was still sharing a room with my sister during my college days.

"Kamusta? Having fun?" I asked him.

"Oo naman,. I'm really glad I came," he said. I drank the wine in my glass and finished it. We were both watching the crowd.

I turned to Marvlitz and hugged him.

"You know what, Marv, we may not have made it as lovers but I'm glad we we made it as really good friends," I said. He smiled and hugged me back.

"And I couldn't have had a better first boyfriend," I said. "I'm glad you're here to send our little girl off."

"Grabe no, kinasal na talaga si Honeylet samantalang dati tinuturuan ko lang siya sa mga assignments niya. (Can't believe Honeylet's really married. It wasn't so long ago I was just helping her with her homework.)"

"I know ... She's all grown up now, isn't she?" I said.

"She is. And you ... when are you going to get married?" Marv asked.

"Sigh ... I'll probably be an old maid," I replied and gave him a small smile.

"Well ... you'll always have me," he said and squeezed my shoulders.

They say weddings are one of a person's happiest moment. From what I have seen, I tend to think it's true. Whether it's a simple ceremony or a lavish one, at the end it's just two people promising to love each other forever.

"To have and to hold 

from this day forward, 

for better or worse, 

for richer or poorer, 

in sickness and in health, 

to love and to cherish, 

till death do us part"

-

Gossip Girl: The Last Days of Disco

-

Previously on Gossip Girl:

The Valley Girls



Morning Sleepyheads! Time to wake up from bad dreams, roll out of our beds and start making plans for a brighter future. Even if it means we need to leave the past behind.

"We are now processing the 'Application of Immigrant Visa & Alien Registration' form and I need some information from you. I am scanning you a copy of the draft form for you to fill out the missing information in a separate piece of paper … "

The letter went on and on but all I could do was read the first line over and over again. So this is it ... the time has come.

I shouldn't have been so surprised. I have always known I would leave the Philippines one day. When I was twenty two, my mom, dad and my sister migrated to the U.S. I was left behind because I had exceeded the age limit mandated by their law.

My parents eventually petitioned for me and well, it looks like I am finally coming home. Or … was I?

Home is such a powerful, visceral word that resonates in every human being, the idea of a place where you belong. But somehow, over my years of growing up, it has seemed to elude me, how it always felt like it was here but inexplicably over there at the same time. Every part of me seemed miles and centuries apart and each place and time called itself my home.
 
Where ... or what ... or who is home?
 
I left my hometown Cotabato City when I was thirteen to study in Manila. I lived alone for four years and stayed at a dormitory. I suppose I was forced to grow up much faster than a normal young boy. I had to take care of myself, buy my own groceries, budget my own money, plan my schedules, be independent.

My parents were always supportive but they were just so far away and it was at that age when plane fares would cost an arm and a leg. And  we weren't rich. So visits were far and few in between.

My sister eventually joined me when she came here for her college education. Those were some of the happiest years of my life. My sister and I share an intimate bond that I think … no, that I know will last forever. And yes, Rudeboy, I know forever's an awfully long time. Such a word isn't to be taken lightly.

So I know I should be happy that I will be joining them, but why do I feel more sad than joyful? I suppose, instinctively, I knew this is one of those life changing moments in our lives, that I was leaving a place and a time I can never go back to. Because when I do go back, I would no longer be the same man. And people and friends would have changed and moved on with their lives. And all that's left, sometimes, are our memories of days gone by.

Manila is the sum of everything that I am and more; who I am when I drink and dance with my friends on Saturday nights, who I am when I wake up with a stranger in my bed, who I am when I get lonely during cold nights, who I am when I find love, who I am when I lose it.

Yet it seems I must go away and leave it all behind to find my future.

 
 
 
"Honey, I have news," I told Fran and took a deep breath. "My visa might finally come anytime soon."
 
"Oh," she replied, caught by surprise. "Wow. When do you think you're leaving?"

"Sometime next year. I'm trying to delay it until around July," I said. "It's all very uncertain but we still have some time," I said and smiled at her.

She nodded. "I'm happy for you hun. I've always known you were meant for great things, you were always bound for somewhere else. Somewhere not here. And you finally get to be with your family."

"I know. But … you're my family too Fran. I mean, we raised each other. All of the boyfriends and mean girls and break-ups and crazy family dramas, we learned through it together. You're my best friend."

"Do you think I'll make it there?" I asked her quietly. "Do you think I'll be lonely? What will I do without you Fran?"

"All I know is you will shine, like you always have, like you always will," Fran said as she tried to reassure me.

"I'm not so sure about that," I replied.

"I am," she said. "Ikaw pa. (You of all people.) It looks like you're heading to one big adventure hun. I only wish I can be there to share it with you. Aren't you excited?"

"I guess it's because ang saya saya ko dito (I guess it's because I'm really, really happy here)," I said wistfully.

"I know. You have a comfortable life, money, an amazing job, wonderful friends, you get to travel and you get a lot of boys. For most people, it's enough," Fran said.

"For most ... sigh."

"Except, you're not like most people. I know it's hard to leave but I know you also know you need to do this," she continued.

"I do hun, I do. Manila's getting too comfortable, and I still have other dreams to fulfill." I said.

"I guess this is it huh," I finally said and gave her a smile.

"I guess it is," Fran said.

And all in an instant, everything changes. We leave the past behind and speed toward the unknown. Our future.

But no matter how old we get and how far we go, we always need a place to call home. Because without the people you love most you can't help but feel all alone in the world. But only time will tell ... if they'll stay or leave you too.

XOXO
-

The Lost Continent of My Twenties

-

For my sister Honeylet who has been with me through every journey. Happy birthday my love.

They say time is what ultimately gives meaning to all things; that we only recognize the importance of something when we look back at it.

When I recently re-read some of my stories in this blog, I realized that I was looking at the disappearance of a whole continent I know I may never touch again - Gossip Girl Birthday Balls, Grand Canyon sunsets and Machu Picchu sunrises, adventures with my sister, red leggings and a harem - in short, the land of my self-absorbed twenties.

So raucous and full of joy, they strike me now as obsessed with loss and nostalgia and the One Big Love that never worked out but wouldn't go away, either.

That life is drifting away from me, an inch at a time. Work is now taking up more and more of my time, some friends have become distant, my sister is getting married in November.

Sometimes I wonder once she's become a wife and a mom, will she still have time for her brother? What about our dreams to explore unknown lands together and see the Great Pyramid of Khufu, the Orient Express, the Byzantines churches.

Perhaps those dreams are gone.

While writing my stories, perhaps I was dimly aware that time is passing, that things will change. I didn't want to let go of my past; to forget, to become disengaged, to become disentangled.

I wanted to remember. I wanted to build a shrine to honor it, to give it a mark in my new land. I wanted to mythologize it. This, I think, is one of the great privileges of a writer; to create a myth out of a personal experience.

Some say it is best to burn the bridge and move on; to never look back. But I believe it takes more courage to go back and face our past, both the beautiful and ugly parts of it, and recognize it for what it really was. Perhaps for the very first time.

So without knowing it, I was building my shrine to the slowly vanishing continent of my twenties. Some of that terrain was as gorgeous as the Manila setting where most of them are based; full of shimmering curtains of rain and deeply rooted desires.

Much of it was dark and thick with blinding smog too; some almost impassable. But broken love and dreams deserve a shrine; even if its just a few words and scraps of memories.

-

Grateful

-

Previously:
Fearless

Gossip Girl: Teenage Dream (I)

I woke up alone in an empty hotel room. Plastic cups were scattered all over the tables, couches and on the kitchen sink along with some McDonald's fries and chocolate cake leftovers.

I looked at the clock and saw it was eight in the morning. I had barely two hours of rest. My head was hurting from the lack of sleep and alcohol intake from last night. I took a deep sigh and started cleaning up the mess.

So this is how it feels like to be thirty one, I told myself.  Just when I had gotten used to the sound of thirty, I had to add another syllable. Thirty … one.

Thirty one is such an awkward age. Thirty was the end of a decade, the start of a new one. It heralded so many things; the promise of maturity, a more comfortable life, fewer issues, less drama, and perhaps love.

Or so I thought.



I was feeling strangely sad as my birthday approached. I brushed it off, told myself it was just the usual birthday blues. I guess birthdays are that one day in a year that you long to feel special. I haven't felt that way in a long time.

I missed spending my birthday with my family. I miss my Mom and Dad, my Shobe. I don't have a boyfriend and my friends have been … well … busy with their own lives.

A couple of days after my birthday, Neil and I had a chat. He had just spent the previous weekend partying during the gay pride celebration in Toronto.

"Gay pride was a blast but it always leaves you empty," he said. "One million faggots and not a single one to … oh whatever. LOL. Birthday mo na Kane."

"Well… it was actually two days ago."

"Akala ko 5? Kaya naman ako nag text kasi sabi sa kalendaryo ko 5. Sorry!!!"

"It's okay Neil. I heard old age does that to you. Makes you forgetful," I teased him. "I still appreciate it."

"How was it? Did you do anything special?" Neil asked.

"Well, it wasn't one of my happiest. But it taught me something important," I said.

"Not the happiest, but it was still happy I hope. What did it teach you?



Vackie, Edward and I had decided to rent a room at a hotel and invite a few people over on the eve of my birthday. Nothing fancy, really. Just a quiet night with friends. Vackie, Edward and Arlan didn't show up.

Vackie and Edward eventually apologized days later. I accepted their explanations and told them it's okay. But I realized, just because you understand, it doesn't mean you don't feel bad pala. I haven't heard from Arlan.

I have been grappling with the changes in us; these people are some of my most cherished and loved among my friends, and I miss them.

"Hay Neil, I was sliding into depression when out of the blue, a wise friend told me a simple fact. Life has its different seasons. Even friendships, I guess."

"Nangungulila lang siguro ako. I'm tired of being alone. Pero perky na uli ako :)," I told Neil.

"Mabuti na lang you have wise friends. I usually have to face that battle alone," he said. "Count your blessings. Buti naman at perky ka na."

"I do, I do. I guess it's because I give myself so much to my friends. They're my family here kasi, but people do disappoint you. But you become more understanding rin pala. More forgiving. Gawd, is this maturity?"

They're not just my friends, they're my family. Because my family lives far away, my friends have become more important to me. They're the ones I talk to everyday, to ask how your day was, to share your stories with.

Sometimes, when you give yourself to a person; be it a friend, a lover, a husband, a wife, you expect certain things in return. That they value you, that they give back. That things won't change. But friendships are relationships too, and like most things in life, they change too.

As André Aciman said in his essay in the New York Times titled The Day He Knew Would Come

"...this is how it always is and has been: things come and then they go, and however we bicker with time and put all manner of bulwarks to stop it from doing the one thing it knows, the best thing is learning how to give thanks for what we have."

Perhaps, that day had come. If last year was about learning to be fearless, this year was about teaching myself to be grateful. And I am. I am incredibly lucky, and I realized despite the hits and misses in my life, I am happy.

Rudeboy once said it may be too much to ask for a life without regrets. That perhaps all we can do is to hope that our joys outweigh our sorrows.

"Sige na Neil. Don't text back anymore. I'll call you soon. I'm really happy you remembered.

Neil, kung wala ka pang boyfriend next year, puntahan sana kita sa birthday mo. (Neil, if you don't have a boyfriend by next year, I was thinking maybe I could come visit you on your birthday.)"

He didn't reply.

A few days later, I was drinking at a bar near my place with a friend, catching up while dancing to 80s, 90s and pop music. I don't think I've ever heard Beyoncé, the Spice Girls and Cyndi Lauper all played in one night.

We were thoroughly enjoying ourselves when sudddenly, my phone beeped. It was a message from Neil.

"Ano? Sa birthday ko?"
-

My Baby Love

-

Shobe,

It's a new month. I feel incredibly happy, like something is about to come though I don't know what. I miss writing to you. I am listening to Robyn's Hang With Me right now, and the music is making me feel light and free. Like a kite drifting in the summer sky.

How are you, my dearest sister? How is spring treating you across the ocean? I miss you. I wish we can be together more often.

I have grown used to being far from you, and I've built a nice comfortable world here in Manila. But sometimes late at night, I find myself wondering what would it be like if we were together? Would we still be roommates? =) Paano na ang mga lalaki natin? (What about all our men?) Hahaha =)

You know, I am really proud of you. I don't think I say it often, but I am. I always tell my friends about you. One of my favorite anecdotes was the first time I saw you last Christmas and I said

"OMG! Is that a limited edition Marc Jacobs bag?"

Grabe, parang kailan lang lahat ng ito pangarap lang. (It just seemed like not so long ago, all this was just a dream.) I mean, look at you, your life is so… stable while mine is still so uncertain after all these years.

You have a job you love, a fiancé, a mortgage! All the things that define stability, while I'm still the crazy boy running all over Manila. I always knew you'd get married first. You always had this sense of determination to get what you want, a quiet strength that I have seen through the years.

I can't wait to see you and to spend your last few days of being single together. I will throw you the most kick ass bridal shower party!

I'm glad you had fun during your trip to Mexico. Someday, let's go there and we will try this drug from the peyote cactus found in Mexico. It is known as the bruja's brew among the Yaqui Indians. I heard it can be a life changing experience.

I am very excited to visit India for the first time. I will be spending most of my time in the Rajasthan region and see the blue and pink cities. I am also considering going on a camel safari in the Goa desert.

We shall see. As always, there is never enough time to do all that we want.

Do write. I miss you terribly.

Love,
Ahia

The Story of a Marriage

-
"Perhaps you cannot see a marriage. Like those giant heavenly bodies invisible to the human eye, it can only be charted by its gravity, its pull on everything around it. That is how I think of it. That I must look at everything around it, all the hidden stories, the unseen parts, so that somewhere in the middle — turning like a dark star — it will reveal itself at last."
---"The Story of a Marriage", Andrew Sean Greer

"Mommy, how are you?"
 
"Uy, anak. Ikaw pala yan. Mabuti. Ikaw kamusta? (Oh, it's you my son. I'm good. How are you?)"

It was nighttime in America. I suddenly missed my mom so I called her at her work at the nursing home. I wanted to chat a bit before I sleep.

"I'm good. O, 11 na ah. Susunduin ka na ng asawa mo (It's almost 11. Your husband will be fetching you soon)," I teased her.

"Ay. Oo nga. Yang Daddy mo talaga Kane, talagang every night andiyan talaga siya para sunduin ako. Favorite talaga ako niyan. (Oh, you're right. You know Kane... your Dad, he's really there every night to fetch me. I'm really his favorite.)"

She laughed and I heard the genuine pleasure in her voice.

"Sabi ko nga sa kanya, malapit lang naman ang bahay. Kaya ko ng lakarin para makapag rest na siya. Pero gusto pa rin niya ako sinusundo. Ay teka, andiyan na siya. O mag ingat ka lagi ha. I love you (I keep telling him the house is near and I can just walk home pero he insists on fetching me from work. Oh wait, got to go. He's here. Take care always. I love you)," my mom said.

"I love you too Mom. Give Dad my love."



My mom and dad live in a small apartment in Los Angeles. They have been married 31 years. My sister moved in with her boyfriend last year and they have become closer since then. I guess as what people say, it's like a second marriage.

"Yang mommy mo at ako, talagang 'til death do us part kami," Dad told me a few months ago during one of our conversations.

My dad arrives home much earlier than mom who has two jobs. Ssometimes he would fall asleep at the couch while watching TV but he makes sure he wakes up to fetch mom.

Sometimes I think of their nightly ritual and what it means for them. Perhaps for Dad, it's a daily gesture of his love for Mom. He's there ... every night for the past eight years an hour before midnight. Whether it's summer or fall. Winter or spring. There were days he wasn't feeling well. Or had a bad day at work. Or was simply tired.

But he always shows up.

-

Turning 86

My Tita Lyding turned 86 last week. She suffers from arthritis and can barely walk, her hearing is impaired so we all have to raise our voices so she can hear us, but her mind is still sharp.

I first met her when I came to Manila in 1993. I was 13 then, a young lad from the province, a probinsyano, just about to enter high school. I knew little about life in the big city. Tita Lyding, or Tita Deng as I often call her, was not a blood relative but she took care of me just like her own son.

Since she rarely has the chance to go out, I decided to fetch her from Antipolo and take her out for a night in town.

"O, did you take a bath ba?" I asked her after she got in the car.

"Yes, of course! Three times!" she answered.

"Paamoy nga," I said and embraced her. Her perfume smells of lilac, and old roses, just like I remembered. "So are you ready? Baka mapuyat ka."

"I'm prepared to go home by 6:00 a.m.!" she told us.

"Naku! LAX na ito! Did you bring your dancing shoes Tita Deng?" my close friend Georgie said.

"I brought my third leg," she replied, brandishing her cane, laughing.

That's what I love about my Tita. Her humor and zest for life hasn't faded. She refuses to become an old grumpy lady who complains about everything in her life. Never mind that walking is painful. Never mind that she can't hear the world as much as she used to. I would sometimes catch her pretending to have heard something just to spare her the embarassment of having to repeat "Ano yun?" again and again.

"I'm always happy to see you Kane," she told me.

"I'm happy too Tita. Happy 86th birthday my love," I said.

I brought her to my favorite Filipino restaurant, Bistro Filipino, and we had drinks afterwards with my friends.

What do people want when they're 86, I wondered?

"So, Tita Deng, what is your birthday wish?" I asked her as she sipped her mango margarita.

She was quiet for a moment.

"One more year," she said, smiling at me. "And I want another dinner like this next year ha!"

One more year, I thought to myself. So this is how it ends. When you're younger, you dream of wealth, travel, love, a great job, a great man, great sex and a lifetime to enjoy them all. And at 86, all you ask is for one more year.

I suddenly realized the vast distance of almost six decades that separates my Tita and I. She looked at me and at that moment, we both knew she knew she was approaching the end of her life. How does she feel, I wonder? And when that time comes, how would I feel?

Our finiteness being human is what ultimately gives our lives meaning, I think. It is because we know things do not last forever that we value them. It is the time we spend with our loved ones knowing death comes, the joy of watching children grow up knowing they will not be children forever, the struggles of today knowing there is a promise of a better tomorrow.

The years fly by.

As the poet Andrew Marvell put it in his poem, “To His Coy Mistress” – “And at my back I always hear, / Time’s winged chariot hurrying near.”

Maybe one day I will be 86 and someone will ask me what is my wish. I would remember my Tita Deng, and smiling I'll say, "One more year".

Teach Us to Be Humble

When I was young, my parents seemed invincible. They were my heroes.

My dad was the smartest man in the world who knew the arcane crafts of science and geology and physics. He taught me why the sky turns black during a solar eclipse, how to battle Bowser and save the princess in Super Mario Bros., how to look for Beijing, New York, and Paris on the map. My mom taught me to how to scrub the floor until it turns sparkling white, how to prepare for a history exam so I get a 100, how to cross the street so you don't get killed.

As I grew up, I became more and more independent. I relied less on my parents as I learned new skills and knowledge on my own. I saw the world, studied new languages, went to a business school. I traveled to cities my parents have never even dreamt of going, and I didn't realize I had truly outgrown them until …

My mom and I were talking on the phone, catching up after weeks of not being able to call each other. She was telling me a story about her 70 year old patient who couldn't remember her name when I said:

Kane: Mommy, wala ka na bang ibang kuwento? Pare-pareho na lang lagi ang kwento mo tungkol sa mga pasyente niyo, sa mga students mo. Ibahin mo naman topic mo.
Mom: Aah. Wala na eh.

Days later, my ninang Monette called me. After a while, she mentioned a conversation she and my mom had.

Ninang: Ta, alam mo ba, she felt so bad the other day when you told her bakit wala na siyang ibang kinukwento. Na laging pare-pareho na lang.
Kane: Ha? Talaga?
Ninang: Oo. Sabi niya, "Ano pa man ikukuwento ko kay Kane Monette. Hindi naman ako tulad niya na matalino, na nagbabasa ng mga libro o diyaryo. Hindi man ako mahilig manood ng TV. Yun man lang ang mundo ko."

I felt like someone just punched me in the gut. Nasaktan ko mommy ko. I had carelessly said something which had hurt her. It was not my intention and I asked the question innocently, but without meaning to, what I said forced her to confront her limitations as a person and made her feel small.

It was then that I learned there comes a time when children realize they have outgrown their parents. Sometimes the realization comes in the most unexpected, and oftentimes, painful ways.

I learned my lesson.

So to this day, even if sometimes, I had heard the same story or a variation of it before, I put on my happiest perkiest voice when talking to my mom, and say "Talaga mommy? Tapos? Ang galing talaga ng mommy ko."