My mom was aghast when she saw a short feature on liposuction in one of the lifestyle shows on TV. Although she’s not considering getting a liposuction anytime soon despite her weight, she said she’s even more determined not considering having one done in the future after she saw what they do inside the clinic. How the suctions are inserted and pumped in and out of the woman’s fat layer to siphon those excess fat out into a container. She gasped at the idea of being treated like a pig. Then my father went on to talk about face lift and tummy tucks in all their detail.

And so, that was how it went on at the family dinner table today – yep, while we were sharing a sumptuous dinner.

Now you wonder why I am not gaining any weight. And no, it’s not because of lipozene.

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.

Today is the day my Kuya Jori moves on to the afterlife. His passing away came as a shock especially for us whom he had lived with for years. Last Sunday, when we heard about the motorcycle accident he got involved in, I knew – being medically adept – that he wouldn’t last long and yet as a relative and a friend, I was hoping against hope for a miracle that would let him walk again and do the things he used to do back in the days. But today, I was proven wrong. The Lord had better plans not only for him but for us that he left as well. I’ve been crying my eyes out all day. My eyes are puffy. Everywhere I go there are things that remind me so much of him: the song “Bye Bye” by Mariah Carey that played in Greenwich while I was having dinner alone tonight; the pink pedestrian line outside which costed him 200 pesos when he parked the car outside of it; the stairs to our apartment unit that Kuya Jori regularly walks on when he comes over to pick either my laundry or me; the near-broken doorknob that he badly wanted to change ‘coz of my constant complaints about not being able to smoothly open the door; the shower curtain that he had changed because the old one hadn’t been replaced for months; the jalousies inside our bedroom that he advised we should cover with an illustration board so the cold air-conditioned air won’t seep through… these are just a few of the things that remind me of him. It is so hard for me because everywhere I look, I seemingly see him or hear his comments as if he’s just around. It is very surreal and the reality of him being gone – forever in our life – is like a bitter pill that’s difficult to swallow. Kuya Jori was like everyone’s trusty ol’ brother and now, that ol’ brother has gone to be with the Lord.

Kuya, thank you so much for sharing 14 years of your life with our family. Sorry I didn’t even teach you how to search directory submissions online. Thank you for everything. We truly love you.

It’s officially Sunday and I haven’t started anything with the schoolwork I brought home. I may be unproductive lately but I don’t regret anything a bit; after all, I’m giving up schoolwork for time spent with my family and relatives.

Today, we celebrated my grandfather’s first death anniversary last January 7. It’s customary in our family that we gather on the 40th day of death and on the first death anniversary which we call “babang-luksa”. I don’t exactly know how you translate it in English but “babang-luksa” only roughly means that the immediate family of the dead has now finished mourning. At the most superficial – “babang-luksa” meant that the immediate family can now wear “happy” colored clothing like red. I, being one of the grandchildren have shied away from wearing red (unless really needed) for the past 12 months since my grandfather died. All my red-colored clothing have been put away to the back of my closet until today.

My mother decided we’d do the gathering at the memorial park where my grandfather was laid to rest. When my grandmother and when Brent died a few years back, we held the gathering here at home. Perhaps, the experience of being tired and stressed with the preparations prompted mom to just order food and hold the gathering somewhere else. I have to agree with her on that. My mom’s hypertension coupled with her OC-ness are not exactly the perfect ingredients to a gathering.

So, I went there this afternoon and met a lot of my relatives whom I rarely see on regular days. Whether I like it or not, I should be attending family gatherings more often because soon, I’ll be the one holding parties and inviting my relatives over. The pressure is killing me. Belonging to a large family didn’t help either. I always end up calling all the adult females “tita” and all the adult males “tito” without even knowing if I’m addressing them properly. If there’s anything I like about the Filipino culture, this is it – the close family ties that we have managed to keep intact through the years. It’s especially more pronounced in the provinces where everyone knows everyone else. When my paternal grandmother died and we had to go to Antique back in 2007, I was amazed by how I can virtually trace my lineage through the elders who still lived. I think my cousin even plans to make a family tree so that we’d have something to show off to our children someday. With the technology now, I don’t think that’s impossible to do.

Anyway, I haven’t had Bee check my laptop yet. It’s already getting on my nerves. I talked to my father last week and he did promise me a new laptop when he gets back (though I would have wanted to get a DSLR actually ). He said he’s gonna fix my old one, get a memory upgrade, reformat the hard drive (after doing a backup of course!) and give this to my youngest brother. I am not to keen on the idea though. I am pretty sentimental about the things that I have and it’s going to be painful to part with my lappie. Four long years of being together is not a joke! But then again, at the same time, getting my hands on a new laptop also excites me. Confused much?

November 1 and 2 are special holidays for us Filipinos because we remember our dead loved ones on these days. Since my grandmother died, it has been our tradition to visit her grave every 1st of November. We set for the memorial park at 6 am and stay there until the sun goes down. This year’s November 1 was no different except maybe for the fact that traveling to the cemetery was a breeze and it wasn’t as toxic as I thought it would be. Two All Saints’ Days ago, the travel to and from the cemetery was horrendous – it took us an hour from a few meters away from the gate to my lola’s memorial lot and around the same length of time to get out of the cemetery grounds.

Like most Filipinos, the visit to the grave is like a mini-reunion where immediate family members of the dead gather to pray, eat and eat some more. It has been more special to us since my grandmother already has my grandfather and baby Brent as neighbors in that little ground space we bought (the bones of her father and Brent’s older brother who died a few hours after birth are also buried with them). I remember how just last year, my grandfather was still with us when we went to the cemetery. This year marked the first time we visited him on November 1 as he lays buried beside my grandmother.

The situation at Manila Memorial Park in Dasmarinas is perhaps farfetched from the situation at other major cemeteries in Metro Manila. Every year, there is a live coverage of the situation at the North Cemetery where people visit in droves by the millions to honor the dead and as far as private memorial lots are concerned, the situation at Manila Memorial Park in Sucat is congested as well. Lucky for us that the memorial park in Dasmarinas is fairly new and don’t have as many people buried in one place like in others. But then, I just know that perhaps next year, things will be a lot different as more people bury their dead and the place fills up. Just recently, the lot right next to my grandmother’s had a new occupant. It was so new that there wasn’t even an epitaph to mark it with. We stayed there the whole day but there wasn’t even anyone who visited the grave and even the rest of my grandparents’ next-door neighbors – as it has been through the many November 1s that had passed. We end up putting a flower or lighting a candle or two for them just so they’d know someone’s been praying for them – never mind if they didn’t really know us to begin with.

Another holiday has passed. Christmas is really just around the corner. I wonder though why I haven’t been feeling the so-called Christmas spirit.

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