We remember Manong W
Being the eldest in a family of 11 children, he did everything first even in death.
We were all with him as he faced his death for about 2 months. We prayed he would conquer his illness and come out of it with a new lease in life so we too can do the same when it's our time. But the dreaded phone call came early Saturday morning (Sept 24, 2 days after we celebrated our mother's birthday) telling all of us he lost the fight, just when we started to feel complacent he had valiantly battled those pesky fungus that collapsed his lungs.
We used to complain to our parents when there wasn't much to go around and asked why there were so many of us. Our mother would wittingly fire back, "Who among you wouldn't want to be here?" and that kept us all in line through these years. With Manong W's death, we ask new questions; who's going next or will we ever be prepared enough to let go of each other now that we're so used to being one of many?
I remember Manong W already a grown-up, easily mistaken as a father than a brother to us younger ones. My elder siblings and cousins who were his contemporaries have more stories to tell. All I knew was he lived in the city and led a sophisticated lifestyle even after he settled with a wife and children. He was the first cool brother I've ever known who always looked the type that belonged to club med with a tennis racket, so out of place in an agricultural landscape where we grew up.
He gave each one of us an apt nickname that we all readily adopted as our spoken endearment to each other. Everytime we ran around him, he would kid with us and pinch us in the armpits pretending to do it hard by biting his tongue. We saw less of him as we left home for college and then one by one, we all left for the states. But during our homecomings, he would always be present to exact his gifts from us. In the end, he didn't need to ask for our help. We were all willing to exchange our fortunes to stave off his death. But alas...it wasn't enough. Manong, you had to do it first at your prime age of 57.
We were all with him as he faced his death for about 2 months. We prayed he would conquer his illness and come out of it with a new lease in life so we too can do the same when it's our time. But the dreaded phone call came early Saturday morning (Sept 24, 2 days after we celebrated our mother's birthday) telling all of us he lost the fight, just when we started to feel complacent he had valiantly battled those pesky fungus that collapsed his lungs.
We used to complain to our parents when there wasn't much to go around and asked why there were so many of us. Our mother would wittingly fire back, "Who among you wouldn't want to be here?" and that kept us all in line through these years. With Manong W's death, we ask new questions; who's going next or will we ever be prepared enough to let go of each other now that we're so used to being one of many?
I remember Manong W already a grown-up, easily mistaken as a father than a brother to us younger ones. My elder siblings and cousins who were his contemporaries have more stories to tell. All I knew was he lived in the city and led a sophisticated lifestyle even after he settled with a wife and children. He was the first cool brother I've ever known who always looked the type that belonged to club med with a tennis racket, so out of place in an agricultural landscape where we grew up.
He gave each one of us an apt nickname that we all readily adopted as our spoken endearment to each other. Everytime we ran around him, he would kid with us and pinch us in the armpits pretending to do it hard by biting his tongue. We saw less of him as we left home for college and then one by one, we all left for the states. But during our homecomings, he would always be present to exact his gifts from us. In the end, he didn't need to ask for our help. We were all willing to exchange our fortunes to stave off his death. But alas...it wasn't enough. Manong, you had to do it first at your prime age of 57.
