Going Home...

I had planned not to come home to the Philippines this year because I was planning to go to some other places I have never been to before. Maybe somewhere in Europe or probably visit my Aunts in Chicago. But we received a call on the 14th of this month, March, at four o'clock in the morning. It was what brought me home.

When my sister woke me up from my sleep, I was disoriented for a bit, she was weeping and screaming and I was there staring at her. It was one of the most tragic times of our lives. She was sobbing, I was in shock, I was frozen. I held her close to me as she was gasping for breath in between sobs. The phone rang again and it was my brother Jun on the other line. He asked when we can go home. I told him we will go home today. Mac, our youngest brother died in his sleep.

Its been 16 days since that day. We arrived here on the 16th of March. We took the plane on the 14, the same day I renewed my passport. I didn't want to write here about it but the world will still go on and I know I will come back to this page. So I have to write about it anyhow.

I want to pretend that that day never happened, that event never occurred. But it did and a picture would remind me every day. My sister is bringing a picture of Mac back home with us to where we will be away from my family. I wonder what for. We never had a picture of Mac in our flat before, why put one now when he is gone. It will only serve as a painful reminder of a great loss. I wish I could pretend Mac was never gone, if only it doesn't hurt me deep inside.

We, my sister and I were frantically arranging what we can in our bags so we could go home. It was only 5 in the morning. We had a balikbayan box that was to be picked up that day to be sent to the Phils. We grabbed it open so I could take the Reebok shoes I bought for Mac. We took other stuff to fill in our bags. I was walking like a zombie getting all the black clothes I could find to put in my luggage. I remember Mac's face smiling at me as we went to Gaisano to buy clothes. I remember him smiling from ear to ear when I bought him those Giardano pants from SM Cagayan. I remember his voice telling me that he is busy in the grocery, busy in the construction site... Those were what he was always saying to me everytime I call him during the past few days I have spoken with him.

Mac, was in his last year in Architecture. His first project was the house he built for my cousins, which I eventually bought when they decided to sell. He was only in his second year that time. On his fourth year now, he was handling 5 major projects and their thesis. He was due for graduation on the 27th of March 2006.

Yes, I have recovered from my shock a few minutes after my sister stopped crying. I sobbed but it was difficult. I cried but my eyes were dry. It was as if I was in a torment of the need to cry but could not cry. Even now.

On the plane, I couldn't sleep. I wait till the lights go off and everyone slept and I sob silently next to my sister. Even now, I sob alone when everyone has gone to sleep. The flight took over 8 hours in the air and then it landed in HongKong and we stayed there for an hour. It was such a long hour. When we took the connecting flight, we only had two hours to spare until we get to Cebu. I fell asleep within that time.

In Cebu, the next flight to our nearby town was the day after at 8 in the morning, so we settled to take the boat that very same night so we can save time. The next day we arrived in our town port. We were met by a family friend. I could not understand how my sister could just laugh as if there was not a tragic reunion waiting for us at home. She laughed as if we came home for vacation. I could never understand it as I counted the minutes we consume on the road home. It was Jun-jun who took my sobs as I stepped out of the car. I did not care who was there in our house. I was sobbing next to Mac's white metal casket. It was so terrible, such an awful feeling to see someone you love lying there lifeless, sleeping for eternity.

How do you heal your heart? How do you heal a mother's heart? Mac was the one person I know who had the same energy as me in the family. He had the same goals as me, he was as motivated as I am. He is like a pillar for me on the other end of our family.

His thesis was symbolized by a prototype which he built along with his fellow classmates. Altogether they would have graduated, all five of them. It was his vision of how our inherited land will be turned into a commercial hub. It was a beautiful dream. He dreamed it with us, he dreamed it with his classmates. I wish we did not bury it with him.

Everyday we miss his voice, I miss his smile. I miss the way he talks and persists to be listened and understood. Because he was the youngest, we took him like a kid, we did not realize the kid grew up and had much more mature ideas, ideas that have been built and concretized into other people's houses, bedrooms, bathrooms, grottoes, doors and it would have been a much bigger one.

Everyday my heart is sore, I am only his sister. I wonder how my mother feels. When she is alone, when she lies down on her bed at night, waiting for Mac to come home like she always does before. My heart goes out for Mac but my heart bleeds for my mother, every single day.