i have been trying not to think of you. so consciously avoiding the thoughts that i am afraid would fill me with the misery and darkness that have surrounded me - at times so suffocatingly so - for what seems like an eternity and a day.
i have been telling everyone else that we SHOULD celebrate your life, not wallow in the misery that you have left behind.
not that you gave us misery. no. at least not at the tail end…
i recall… you used to hate me. i saw it in your eyes. of course the physical expression helped bring home the point, too. 
whenever i’d look back, however, i understood you better. you were young, scared, feeling lost, unloved and displaced. there i was - cute. and loved. (much too loved?)
then we grew up.
now, snippets of static videos are all i have. the rides in the car - going to the appointment that led to the annulment hearings. you and i went to the same place, apparently. so you were saying that yeah, you were familiar with the place. we were teasing each other then, saying how it really ran in the family, and that next time maybe we could have a package deal. what about the times when i would go with you to service? you were so happy for me, seeing how i was slowly growing in Him- falling, floundering - yet always fighting to stay in the light.
other memories: blizzard for lola, when going to tagaytay. underpants on your head every morning, before you take a shower. you quietly praying on your own as you sat with the family while we prayed the rosary. you picking me up from the gym, with nice new wheels. you driving me to makati, telling me all about your cool new job - your dream job, you said. you going through your fast… without telling me- and then taking me and aya to see a movie. you bought lots and lots of snacks for us. for me. and you just kept on saying no to all offers of yummy, yummy food. us running to catch a show (always seemed to happen to us :). you playing badminton with such cool poise - and then once in a while going into a fit of crazy laughter. me apologizing all the time because i was more a minus than a plus for our team. you cooking hinanese chicken. you taking pictures of us. you telling me how you were at the exact same point at some time in your life when i was talking to you about feeling so lost and without anything to hold on to. you telling me to hold on. you letting me cry as you patiently listened to me. you sharing how painful it was that you were a father, and yet not a father. you getting all excited about dating your soon-to-be-ex-wife again. you crying because it really didn’t seem to be working out. you texting me so many messages of encouragement, just when i needed them most. you calling me to tell me about lola in the hospital. you sitting down with me in bora - helping me figure out the life i wanted to lead. you bugging me about the fish/squid ball business idea you had, so i could run it. you always letting me tag along. you with lola. you with mom. you praying. you working on your laptop in the middle of the night whenever i’d come down for more water.
and i also hear you. nightbird. blackbird. haven’t we met. amazing God. you alone. that silly, silly nora aunor christmas song you played for me, to cheer me up when i was so down in that last christmas you had with us.
i miss all those.
but mostly, kuy… i miss your hugs. i miss the fact that i could just wait for you to come home, and know that i could bug you for a hug or a shoulder to cry on. i miss you hugging me and telling me that you loved me, and that God loved me so much. i miss you saying “beeps” and know that everything’s ok because you were home.
i recognize the beauty of balance in everything that has happened. we grew up with much hatred and animosity. you were so misunderstood- even by yourself. you felt so unloved, and didn’t know love. then, when you grew in Love, you lived Love. and you lived it everyday.
one of our last conversations was about love, remember? and about death and touching people’s lives? we both saw tuesdays with morrie and couldn’t stop talking about how amazing it was that in the end, the more you loved, the more you lived on.
it is also amazing that in the end, it was my hand that you held on to, as you struggled for your final breath at home. oh, how you clung as you flailed and shook. and your eyes, kuy… your eyes looking at me with terror at not being able to breathe… and yet unseeing as the struggles became more overpowering. you weren’t able to say anything anymore, but you were able to tell me a lot.
and now, kuy… a year later…
i remember the icu… the ceaseless parade of well-wishers and prayer-offerers… friends and family who genuinely loved you (still do)… the ipod… the bible-reading… the kwentos…
about this time last year your bp was very low already and you couldn’t get hooked on to the dialysis machine. about this time, i stepped out to make calls already - that it was time… that your friends had to come already. after that, kuy… i had my first quiet time alone without you (in the next icunit)… and the first moment that i came face to face with the truth…
you were leaving us. you were leaving me!!!!!! and i still needed you!!!!! we all did!!!!!!
i had to face the anger, the frustration, the pain, the fear, the feeling of hopelessness, the feeling of having the rug pulled from under me…. had to cry it out… express my anger and sorrow at God…. and then let go. when i let go… you said goodbye. it took me days, kuy. days of being by your side.
and now, here i am again. the day before. and i end up revisiting the pain. the loss. the anger. the emptiness of those awfully big shoes that none of us can seem to fill. oh, kuy!!!!! i miss just knowing you were here. 
i miss knowing you’re praying for us.
i know i’d stop crying soon enough. i know i’d stand up from this slump i am in again. and… all in all, i am thankful for the chance to revisit. for the pain is real. the pain is there. because you are loved.
you are loved, kuy. and missed.
when i was young, i promised myself that i’d have my own life far away from what i knew growing up… i never said anything like, “when i grow up, i want to be like my kuya…”
now that i am older, i say… when i finally pass… i want to pass just like my kuya. please, Lord. keep me with You. help me surrender, as he had. so You may work in and through me…
God, please keep my heart filled with joy at the thought of my kuya being in heaven right beside You. Please make me unselfish. Please make me always look to You for the strength that i do not and will never ever have. just like kuya. please.
amen, amen!
i love you, kuy.
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