Surreal is perhaps the best word to describe what I felt during my one-day stay in Antique over the weekend. I got a two-day leave from my elective rotation to see Kuya Jori one last time and see him be laid to rest. I thought that if and when I see his corpse inside that casket, the reality of his death would sink in but I was wrong. We still miss him every now and then especially at home where everything that you lay your eyes on has his Midas-like touch. I feel the same sadness here in my apartment. As I look around, I cannot help but take a deep sigh as I remember him in every nook and cranny of our apartment. No one would nag me into cleaning my area anymore, nor insist that we change the doorknob of our apartment, nor remind me to bring home the hangers used for my uniforms. The list just goes on. Saying that he is a big loss to our family is an understatement because no one can quantify how much of a help he was to us in the last 14 years that he lived with us. No one can replace him. I don’t think anyone will be able to at least match up with what he can do. He can even design an equestrian apparel if we asked him to. He’s truly one unique individual.

I happened to see the guy who was responsible for his death at his wake. I told myself before that I wouldn’t want to see him but when I heard he was there, I immediately went to Kuya Jori’s house to take a long look at him. Seeing him with that cast on and the bruises in his arms and legs, I couldn’t help but wonder at God’s plans. How come this man here, the very man who was drunk and who drove that motorcycle of his in God-knows how many miles per hour just have these very insignificant injuries when my poor kuya received the most critical blows? I felt it was unfair. But then, it’s never been fair anyway.

It’s gonna take a long time before my family and I could move on and be at ease with kuya’s absence in our household. It’s going to be one tough journey but as a friend once told me: It’s going to be better.

I sure hope so.

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