When Death Sneaks In

He is not here; but far away
The noise of life begins again,
And ghastly thro’ the drizzling rain
On the bald street breaks the blank day.

Absence, Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892)

When my mother died, I went blank When my brother died, my world stopped.

Death has a strange way of putting our own lives in perspective. In my lifetime, I had 2 close friends who died when I was under 12 years old and 2 family members. My brother died when I was 25. My mother died when I was 31.

Mylene and Roxanne died when I was in elementary school. Both died of some disease that we more or less knew they were going to die, like my mother. My mother had some heart disease, and she has been having those tiny strokes for 2 years prior to her death last year. My brother died unexpectedly. He was a robust man. He traveled to Manila, took a plane, attended to a meeting, felt headache and couldn’t breathe, went to Makati Med for a check up after officemates insisted, next day, he died. Myocardial infarction. He died at the age of 42.

My mother died at the age of 54. She died the day of my son’s birthday and the day we arrived in Manila from abroad. The day my mother died was bittersweet for me. My children and I were in Bangkok safely, and looking forward to coming home. I only heard of my mother’s death 2 days after. My world paused, and I had to know what my priorities were that time and I moved.

When people close to me died, I realized that they are gone. I speak of my brother with happiness and pride at all times. His memories are still alive but those are all but memories. My mother left a huge mark on my life and her existence had formed me as a person more than my father had. I am more my mother than anybody else. Living with my father now and realizing how much my mother had given to our lives and her relationship with my father made me understand the real meaning of companionship and dedication of couples to each other and the vow they took decades ago. But this entry is not about that. This is about memories that we allow ourselves to be immersed in and how we allow the memories of the dead interplay with our current lives. Their lives cease to exist, but their memories lingers as long as we allow them to be.