(written on May 29, 2003)
September 16, 1972-May 11, 2003
It has been almost three weeks since PG died and somehow I still can't believe he is gone. Like many people who have lost their loved ones, though in my heart I know he is in a better place, I still have mountains of regrets in my heart.
Regrets? Yes, I have many, many regrets. I regret the fact that after going in and out of Enchanted Kingdom since it opened, we had to be traumatized by being called to the theme park's administration office so they can question us about PG's state of mind. We had to explain he was an autistic savant and that he was mad at us because he wanted to go inside immediately, but mommy could not find her credit card...that he was being impatient. That was all. I was made to promise not to lose sight of him and to explain to the rest of the clients his "situation". If I was traumatized, mom was horrified. After a few rides, we decided to go home. She cried in the car. I couldn't help but cry too. Mom vowed never to go back there again.
Well, that was mom's opinion. PG wanted to go back there, I know. He had the fondest memories because it was the first place beyond home that accepted who he was (at least in this country) without question or cause. It was the first place where "civilized" people entered and let him and RJ co-exist with them. Every time we pass Santa Rosa going to Tagaytay or wherever in the South, he would turn his head to that beautiful amusement park. Yet, mom was stern. No child of hers would go back there.
What I regret the most about the Enchanted Kingdom "situation" was that I could've brought him back there. His mood could've been better and the staff would not bring us to the office anymore. After all, they were just doing "the right thing". Yet, that was that. I couldn't bring back time, even if I wanted to. Maybe I could just bring RJ there one time...
Another thing I regret maybe shallow for others, but not for me. I regret that during his last days on earth I was not able to do reflexology on his hands. I used to do that for him until he twisted my hands. I was afraid I could not write or play the piano again so what I did was that whenever I gave him a full body massage, I would not touch his hands. Every time he would give me his hand I would tell him, "Sorry, but I'm afraid of getting hurt." He would understand and would give me his feet instead.
Among the tons of regrets that I feel is the fact that I was only able to hug him again after the longest time when he was dead in my arms. You see, PG and I were the closest among the siblings since we were small. But when he started having epilepsy and had involuntary punching bouts, I was most of the time the victim. My friends would see the bruises and would pity me. They would often tell me to move out and I would sometimes entertain the thought, but my love for my family remains until this day. I promised to move out only if I get married. Not when, but IF. Even if I move out, my love for them will never be gone.
When I was in the States in the 1990's I almost did not return to the Philippines so that I can finally live my life for MYSELF. Yet, that is not my nature. I tried to be grouchy, grumpy...even bitchy (that made some people confused about me)...but I could not totally be grouchy, grumpy and bitchy. I even tried giving myself to a person I was in love with, but I couldn't do it. My reasoning then (about giving myself...) was that I could finally runaway with someone...far from my family (Right now, I thank God that if EVER I do get married and marry a conservative person, he will still be happy with his choice.).
My family. I've been wanting to leave my family since I was in high school. It was not because I did not love them. It was because I was the first to be born alive that all the responsibilities of taking care of my siblings were on my shoulders. Since Karl then (because he is more responsible now---thanks to his wife, Arleen) did not care much about PG and RJ, mommy and daddy expected me to care for them FOREVER.
I had several opportunities to live by myself and even said goodbye to my friends several times, but somehow all my plans never pushed through. My parents were very happy when my friend, Rommel Sales, offered me shares to the master franchise of Crepes de France, Paris which meant I did not have to leave the country. I had my heart set on living in the States for good, but somehow joining CDFPI changed all that. I am happy with my decision.
It gave me an opportunity to be closer to ALL my siblings, yes, including Karl, and to bond with my parents more. It also gave me an opportunity to be closer to Eise, Xenia, Pia, Amy and the rest of my friends. CDFPI also gave me new friends: Leanie, Irene, Allan T., Aileen, Louie and the rest of the brood...it was a blessing in disguise.
Going back to PG, two days before he died he placed a family picture beside his bed. He taped it to the wall (imitating me---I have a collage and montage of pictures in my room). He was smiling. Something he rarely did ever since he became epileptic (because of his medicine he became grumpy---well, that was the effect on him). My mom said, "Oh, it's good to know that you have a sense of family..."
We often wondered what went inside his brain. He was best in art and he danced well. He even sang well (even if his speech was garbled). There was one book that he highlighted the words CHRIST, GOD with yellow and Satan red. PG is a mind boggler until now. Another book had several highlights...yellow and pink. The yellows were quotations and the pink ones were God, Christ and Jesus.
Every time PG prayed he would say AMEN as loudly as he could. His favorite prayers were ANGEL OF GOD and As we lay our bodies down to sleep...
Going back to his sense of family, we often wondered if he knew if we were his family. Placing that picture on the wall confirmed that he knew who we were in his life. The following day (now, I got the story straight...I was a bit confused two weeks ago) he sang HAPPY BIRTHDAY several times after my dad told him that it was his father's birthday. Yup, grandpa's birthday.
I did not know about his singing that day because I was in Valenzuela with one of my best friends (Eise), her mom and her sister (my goddaughter, Lady May). We went to several places after that. In the evening, I did not go straight home. Instead, Eise and I attended the last night of the novena masses for our parish fiesta. It was drizzling, but I could say it was one of the happiest nights of my life!
After the mass (and "THE" PROCESSION) I still waited for the flowers (yes, I know I'm allergic to flowers, but not all of them...) I was to give my mom for mother's day. Dad was worried about me. He called me on my cellphone and told me to go home soon. When I arrived home, I was so happy to present to my mom the floral arrangement, but mom just got angry because I did not bring food for PG and RJ. She was also mad because I woke PG up. For some reason, PG did not mind this, but I did. I went to dad to complain, but after composing myself, I went back to mom and hugged her. PG was a bit restless, but later on he was okay.
The following morning, mother's day, I had a duty in church (Lector during the Tagalog mass). When I returned home, one of our drivers told me PG had an attack. Yet, when I saw him, he was chirpy...even smiling. Usually when he had attacks the fastest recovery was about thirty minutes, but remained groggy. That time, he was not groggy at all. He checked all the rooms to see if everyone was there. We were. I saw him last in my room. He was standing looking for stuff to throw (which usually dismayed me, but somehow I just let him that day) when I heard a band playing. I told myself, maybe it's different this year. Maybe it's a better band. I looked out the window. It was the same band. No parade. No nothing. I went back. I saw PG on the floor of my room near my books. His face was down, his forehead on his right arm and the rest of the body was in fetal position. I called the driver who told me about his attack to tell him he was experiencing another attack on the intercom. I tried "waking" him up, but he did not budge. I was hysterical, but I found time to send text messages to Tita Grace B., Eise, Xenia and Pia. I wanted to send a text message to another person, but his number was deleted so I couldn't. I did not understand what was taking the rest so long and how I was able to make PG face me. I knew right there and then that he was dead, but I did not want to give up hope. I kept mumbling, "Why did you have to die hours after my happiest moment?" "God, is there a reason behind this?"
My brother was dead in my room and I was being selfish. The funny thing I failed to mention was this. I was getting ready to go to the park then. After removing my white lector outfit, I put on my red shirt, but I was not able to wear my jogging pants. I was in my night shorts because I was planning to lounge around first not knowing that was the attire I was going to use to go to the emergency room with my dad, our driver and PG in my arms. I told PG that finally I have him in my arms again...that I could hold him...kiss him. I believe his soul was still there that time or was nearby.
At the hospital I even had a beach towel with me, which was just right to cover myself while I waited for the "results". He was declared Dead on Arrival. Tita Grace was the first one I told about PG's death then twin Pia and my friend, Xenia, who incidentally was the first one to accompany me after my dad and our driver left.
Eise was not there, but she had representatives. Her mom (our family's angel) and her sister, Lady May helped our family. My family will never forget Tita/Mare' Ellen...I'm sure of that. When my parents returned, my mom told me, "I guess you can get married now." Everyone teased me because. At least something made me smile even when my heart was aching (wow, how corny can I get?). I'll get married? Let's just wait and see.
PG's wake was simple...my dad's so-called politician "friends" weren't there (except for a few) and it was not a big masquerade ball. My dad's siblings (except the one in the States) and his cousins were there, but most of PG'S visitors were the lovely people from our village, our real family friends and my wonderful business partners. A lot of people condoled through mass cards, text messages, flowers (even the family of one that "hated" me sent beautiful flowers), emails and lovely thoughts (through PG's page).
There were three masses for PG. The necrological service, which was "personalized" (My uncle celebrated it, I sang the responsorial psalm, my sister-in-law did the reading...Ruby, Hubert, Pia, Kirby and Eise sang with me), was very beautiful (mass and songs)....the mass Father Boyet held was also special because he was busy, but he still passed by (the necrological mass coincided with his sacerdotal anniversary---Oh, even Father Aris passed by---thanks!) and the funeral mass (which was special too because my former choir sang during the mass and we sang PG's favorite singer's songs---I CAN and YOU ARE MY SONG---yup, he adores(Yes, it's in the present tense because I believe he still adores her there in heaven) Regine Velasquez).
PG's death gave us more time for RJ. Mom and dad brought him to Alabang Town Center and he liked it. We even watched a movie with RJ last week and just recently, he was really bonding with Karl and Arleen in their room. It made our family closer.
I want to go on and on, but I know that words could never describe how I truly feel. So I guess I'll end it here.
God bless all of you who read this piece. Amen!
