Loss of presence

Again, I've been away from the blogosphere for such a long time (three weeks, I think). The reasons, are just a lot. But no, I haven't started working yet, and no I'm not busy having sex with a new boyfriend. I don't have a job yet, and I don't have a boyfriend yet. I don't even think I need one right now. But of course, I have a lot of stories for you.

The title is a bit apt for this post that I will share. Well, one of the reasons why I was away of the scene, was because two people close to me have passed on. First, a friend's sister, succumbed to cancer. Second, my late aunt's husband, died at the age of 70. All happened in one week. All happened last week. And by now, I can say that their absence is slowly seeping in.

I wasn't really close to my friend's sister. We went to the same college, entered college the same year, and took the same program, but I was more close to her older sister, who was of the same school and program but a batch ahead of us. Come to think of it, we didn't really have a lot of shared somethings together. In tallying our conversations together, we only had plain small talk. But I do admire her.

It was during our second year in college that she found out she was sick. I heard about it, I thought that it was an ordinary sickness, until I began to be wary when I learned she had to file a leave for absence. Then I discovered that it was actually serious. She had Lymphoma, which was the kind of cancer she had. And what I admired in her, was her strength and her 'straight man' character in dealing her affliction. I have never seen her being weak, and for anything plausible, I believe she fought well until the very end.

Lymphoma is actually treatable, but due to the late discovery of the disease, and the location of the affected parts of her body (between her heart and lungs), recovery seemed a challenge. And so last August 13th noon time, she took her last breath in barter for eternal rest from pain and suffering. The day me and my friends went to her wake, I couldn't control my tears when her mother recounted her last moments with her daughter. It was sad, but I tried to absorb what her mother wanted to tell. That death was the only relief to the pain she suffered. She died at the tender age of 20.

For my uncle, he was already having a stroke before he passed on the 14th, the day after my friend's sister. It was a sad occasion, because his eldest daughter wasn't at his death bed when he died. Multiple organ failure. He wasn't really a direct relative, but he was still part of extended family in my dad's side, and he was family. Being the husband of the eldest of my dad's brothers and sisters, he became part of family decades before I was even planned to be conceived. My dad was even the ring-bearer at their wedding. He didn't even have surviving siblings in a brood of 16 (back in the old times, it was common for a big family, especially in the provinces). Because of that, he became an adopted brother of my father, even if he carried a different surname, and had made my aunt to change her surname as well.

But even how sad it was for us, it also became one of the funniest and happiest funerals I've been to. Seriously. I only cried during the last night of the wake, which went on for seven days, where he was buried on the seventh day. I went there for like five days, and as it's one of those occasions where you can't help but reunite with relatives you haven't seen for a long time, it became our chance of keeping up with the lost time spent with one another, especially with cousins, and nephews!

That's actually what I like about funerals -- it becomes a reunion where the cause of the reunion was due to the most genuine and sincere of sentiments toward the person who has died. As my dad also came from a big family of 12 siblings, relations between brother and sister weren't always that pleasant. But because of what happened, everyone just had to put it aside and be at peace because of course, every one who dies would like to have a peaceful rest.

I was even more excited to see my nephews who talk in cute Aussie accents, as my cousin, our uncle's eldest, migrated years ago to become an Aussie battler and started a family. And also because her eldest son looked like my dad when he was still a kid, I was just amused to see my dad's junior carbon copy talking to me in an Aussie accent.

Being the only unemployed among cousins who already graduated college, I took the duty of being the nanny of the nephews.

Another funny part of the funeral was the diverse customs and folk beliefs we had to observe. In the Philippines, funerals are a sacred event, and Filipinos would like to exaggerate its sacredness by doing a lot of do's and don't's that God knows where they come from and who invented them. I really swear that they're so weird. Just like that it is not good to take home food or anything served to you from the funeral. Normally, funerals here become quasi-feasts with overflowing snacks and sweets. And then, there's also this belief that you have to go somewhere else for awhile before going home from a funeral in order to 'dust off elements' accumulated during the visit to the funeral. We call this 'pagpag' or 'dust off'. And there are just a lot more, more even during the burial itself. What adds more diversity is because my dad's family has Jewish heritage, so we also observe quite a number of Jewish traditions for funerals. Like we don't listen to music, even live acts. Then during the burial, we fill the grave too after funeral service with a shovel pointing down, and after throwing three shovelfuls of dirt, we put the shovel on the ground rather than pass it around. Oh and we don't shave or cut our hair. I know, really weird.

Anyway, yeah it really is sad when you remember the times you still see these people, and then to conclude that you won't be seeing them again (or maybe soon). But we the living have to get on going, as what our loved ones who have left already might have want us to do. I'm sure, where they are, they're in a better place and have found peace. However, I'll still miss them.