It happened August 10, 1997. And it took me that long to have the nerve to write this memoriam, maybe the wounds were finally healed of losing someone you dearly loved. But the scar will linger throughout.
Not that I would like to recall the past, but the vivid details of how the events unfolded were memories hard to deal.
Untimely, tragic and grief and great loss were few words that best describe my feeling when you left.
I wish I could hold the time, but just like everyone else, my existence depends at the mercy of time. When circumstance strikes, we tend to realize our being slaves of fate; we are helpless, weak and vulnerable.
I was there throughout, we shared almost everything, we had silly moments, we fought, we cried, and we laughed.
I was so blessed growing-up with you; you respect me in a way I did not deserve. In one of our petty fights, instead of harming me what you did instead is to punch the dining table so strong your right fist bled. You knew I got nosy at times because I cared a lot; you were too way sleepyhead, no plans at all, only to realize the reason of your being laid-back after your untimely demise.
In our family among the siblings you were a man of few words. You spoke your mind often times, but precise on thoughts, your moves were unpredictable that’s why it came a surprise when you finally settled down at a young age. We were all in awed it wasn’t though a shock because you were blessed of strong personality and handsome, and these make the girls trail behind your back. We knew you were not ready by that time, your defense was you were drank the night it happened, but your gentle manner surfaced and married her. We were sad thinking that you would be having a life contrary to the easy-happy-go-lucky life we both shared, but we salute you for being man enough to stand firm amidst great responsibilities.
We then found separate worlds…you settled in the place where I called the urban jungle with your newfound family, and I began traversing the corporate world.
After barely six months of not seeing you, we met again. I noticed your eerie countenance totally different to the one I used before. I stared at you and I noticed the loneliness in your face, I tried waiting for your timid smiles, your simple gesture whenever we see each other, you look haggard, but still the same handsome face only prematurely aged. I consoled myself not to worry as my remorse maybe unfounded, your manly gestures were still very much intact but it was then evident the hard life of a man who married at a young age. I knew it was not an easy life for you. When you gazed at me blankly, I noticed that your bright eyes turned melancholic, your fair complexion turned dark—you wore cheap clothing and jeans. The you did not fail me, you smiled at me but it pained me to see the bitterness, and laughs became a rarity. There were coldness and apathy during that meeting. You arranged it to ask me to be one of the godfathers of your eldest born, Monica. I nod and we reconnected once more.
I learned from our folks your being very proud of me. Without me knowing you were idolizing me. When I regularized in my job as a Management Trainee at Motorola Philippines you treated your friends to booze overnight and bragged that I held office at the tallest building in the country’s business center. You asked me at one point not to focus solely in my job and mind my lovelife and reminded me of having you as my best man. Only then, it was never realized.
The sluggish flow of my corporate career made me decide to leave the country when an opportunity to work abroad knocked. A day before my departure you were there, you traveled half-day just to bid me goodbye, and without any hint turned out to be our last meeting. You were so sad then, and couldn’t say a word. You even didn’t want to see my face, you avoided my stares. When I asked you of what present should I bring on my return, you uttered instead “ingat lang lagi at magdasal lagi.” My heart melts then, and to date every time I have the recollection of our last meeting I always end-up teary eyed.
While working abroad you sent me letters, narrating the beauties and challenges of fatherhood, and that Monica would soon have a sibling. Pauline came, another daughter, the last child you fathered.
After a few months working abroad, one afternoon while having a siesta, I had a peculiar dream, “I saw Mum wailing in front of a white coffin.” It was a bad dream, an afternoon nightmare I must say. I woke-up with goosebumps and felt a sudden gust of wind that made me shivered frantically.
The following day, around 9:00 a.m., I got an overseas call from Manoy Ben, our brother-in-law. Telling me at first to relax and not to get shocked of what he would say. Then he broke the lethargic news, and upon hearing it, I could not utter a word and too weak to move, I almost fainted and grasping for breaths totally oblivious of my existence. The news was like a bomb; it hit my senses and shattered my soul. My vision became real. Mhe, my younger brother, even at the last moment had always his own unique way of doing things; he visited me through the vision while on doze.
Ramil “Mhe-mhe” as we fondly call in the family passed-away due to nightmare, at age 23. He was the youngest and the last that came in the family but the irony he was the first one who bid us goodbye to the point of no return.
At first there were denials and pains of his’ untimely death, but our faith dictates that we were all bound to die one day. Oddly though, death is always associated of unexplained loss and grief. Only then the things that would make us going, are the ones left behind and among them, memories to cherish. And that, Mhe would always live in our hearts.
You will always be my little brother, my best friend and your keeper. How I wish someday in my last few remaining breaths you are there and Mum to meet me half-way towards the place where we the livings aim to reach.
Be at peace my beloved little bro. I love you and I always will.
