I’ve been thinking about death a lot. Last Sunday, I attended the wake of a friend’s lolo. While it has been fashionable to have wakes catered lately, I still appreciate wakes where people bring food and snacks and we end up with a comforting mix of many kinds of pancit (bihon, canton, palabok, and malabon), lumpiang shanghai, chicken lollipops, pork BBQ, siopao, biko, lugaw, Munchkins from Dunkin’, Mary Grace cheese rolls, and Zesto.
On the same day I attended the wake, on the east coast of the United States, my cousin, Kathy, passed away. She had long term cancer. She kept it private from most people, but she told my brother and me about it since she wanted to explain why she couldn’t fly in for Gino’s wedding. To us, she was brave about it, irritated by this inconvenience that made her miss out on spending time with us in Palawan. She kept her trademark sardonic humor and named her tumor Herman. Her sister, Ching, broke the news to Gino and me. Kathy and I were of the same age, close as kids, and I’m very grateful for the time I spent with her in the 2000s, when I’d visit them in New York. I met her friends and got a glimpse of her life in the U.S. I met her boyfriend Alex, who she married, but I have yet to meet their son, Drew. One day.
I’ve been thinking about death a lot also because my dad’s death anniversary is coming up. To be clear, I am not big on commemorating anniversaries, happy or not. I do note these dates but I try to have normal days, because continuing to simply live is both my act of protest and celebration. But Robert’s death anniversary, to me, is always… a bit of a thing. You see, a fun fact about me is that five years ago, my dad died on my birthday.
Like I said, continuing to simply live is both my act of protest and celebration.
To be honest, I did not need these three reminders of death. On my own, I think about death a lot. I read somewhere that it’s a pretty healthy thing to do as it’s a great way to keep things in perspective. When I think about death and when I want to talk about it, it’s easy to say something about grief. It’s very tempting to drop some grief wisdom as if no one else has been touched by it. Grief is as universal as it gets, and everyone will deal with it. So I’ll pass. (But if you are grieving and it's your first time, or if it’s still painful as fuck and it feels like there’s no way out of the hole, and if we are close, hit me up. I will go down this hole with you.)
Anyway, I think about death, my death, to be specific, a lot. My biggest worry is that when I die, will my loved ones wonder if I felt I lived a happy and good life? Yes, I am worried that they might worry about what I, a dead person, is feeling. I think that’s a valid concern! And I think I am putting this piece out on the internet to let them know how I really feel about my own life. I could go in many ways: in my sleep, slumped over a creamy mushroom omurice with fried chicken at a Coco Ichibanya, screaming as I am about to get run over while riding my bicycle, or after a long illness. Anything is possible. But I want my loved ones to know that when I go, no matter how I go, I went out incredibly happy that I had all of you and all of your love in my life.
