Posthumously

Twas Franco’s last day in PI.  The next day he would be catching the “flight” of his life.  My baby cousz’ serious and firm attempt to spread his wings, to a place so foreign, to a timing that was perfect although a little late.  But this is not about Franco. Although it's also about "leavings" and the passing of time.

So I decided to call in sick in that Thursday morning.  Dropped off Sophie to school.  Dropped our Caroline to our village.  Got dressed up comfy.  We hit the road, the five of us.  Tita, Codie, myself, and Carrots’ boys.  On the road, there was tinge of guilt in her voice, may be regret, may be pity … it’s been a year.

Like that caught me speechless.  My eyes bulged like they were trying to get some clarity for answers.  She was a little vague .  Was it Kuya Epi?  Nah, it was the youngest (and cutest) hayyyy.  Si Ogie nga.

Kalaro.  Kababata.  It was actually pavementless J … so typical of small countryside neighborhoods.  Back then, the streets were covered by fresh green wild grasses, rows of small guava and tamarind trees, bushes of santan flowers, and yes, I remember pink dandelions, too.  Where houses looked like expensive big mansions to  5 and  8 year old kids. Yeah, did we ran those hills like a bunch of crazies LOL.  Naiinis ako kasi lagi na lang ako ang taya.  Nobody like to pair with me,  not even my cousins, my own blood. Lampa daw kasi ako tsaka mabagal tumakbo, kaya pampatalo J  

He was a naughly little boy, we’d play hide and seek, and he would bring me to his dad’s workshop at the back of their bungalow.  We’d hide to that stinky place where they kept their “pet” turkeys .  (so I think about it now, I didn’t know anyone in my lifetime, who would domesticate turkeys LOL, may be for fun or for food).  Live turkeys they’s just as bad as live ostriches … they go wild at the sight of you, and would run in amuck at us, after me (so I thought)  … and may be try to make food out of a 5-year old little girl who just couldn’t run decently.  I was so scared like hell, I always ended up ruining the game, because I always came out from my “hidings” crying like I was raped by those damned nasty monsters.                                                                       

Then we moved.  And I spent the rest of my childhood in Gapo.  Lovely memories I also made up north.  Gapo got me at hello.  I forgot about Tanza. Brgy. Kwatro.  Those freaking turkey creatures!  And Ogie.

Then the first wedding in the family.  She stayed longer in Tanza.  Sila ang naiwan.  Her entire childhood spent in our little hometown.  A concoction of happy, said, painful memories.   That explains her attachment.  Rosemarie.

Aling Ulot (my mom’s kumare) was one of the sponsors.  He drove for her that day.  My mom was one of the sponsors, too, in absentia.  I was her rep.  And such a bad rep at that.

I was torn  between two loves.  It was something not easy for me.  I lost a lot of weight, my hair was short and dry.  My face was pale.  I was tired from the long trip from Gapo to Kawit.  I had to pull myself up from bed, refused to dress up to the nines (at least wear a good disposition, good enough for a wedding).  I was a lifeless wedding guest that rainy morning.  July 1992.  

Lo and behold!   Ogie The Pogi living up to his childhood monicker (which he learned to despise as he approached his adult life, so he said J ).

Metropolitan Manila was big dirty city which lacks good moral and right conduct.  I thought it would be such a challenge for a typical probinsyana to keep up with competition in a larger, more sophisticated cosmopolitan corporate jungle.   So I decided to go back to what was “comfort zone” to me. People closer to me, know that, it was just an excuse.  I was trying to be clever.  I knew my family especially my mom and my closest of kin, knew it.  But I didn’t care.  I had a plan , and I was sticking with it.  LOL

So I got bloated with fresh, clean, refrigerated water!  Style ko lang bulok talaga!  I’m writing this episode in my life, and my dirty tricks, I was throwing my head backwards laughing like a drunken fool ahahah

Early 1990s was marked with serious energy problems.  Brown outs to black outs were as normal as having a 3-meal course everyday.   It was a time when going out for a date wasn’t fun at all.  While countryside air was still fresher and bountiful and a lot cheaper.  We used to spend our evenings smoking by their porch discussing start-ups with our careers, his usual Kabintenyo swag  on women and accumulating them like my specie is one his favorite toys and hobbies.  Like me trying to be silent about my own promiscuous ways LOL though not necessarily putting up that “santa santita look” (my inner goddess has always been a tigress jusz about ready to plunge on you and roar!).  If black-outs were longer , we’d go for short road trips, sa Rosario dun sa bahay ng tropa nya (I don’t remember his name, nor his face anymore, I wasn’t interested J ) … We come home after those drives with “worry” and “ suspicion” written all over his mother’s face LOL

Whatever that was between us , we did not explore anymore.   It was an agreement.  Silent and unwritten.  Much had been said about his swag with women.  He had two girlfriends, not much approved by his mother.  What can I say, I was always the girl, preferred by moms.  They smell my strength and weaknesses.   My sincerity and pride, as well.  These mothers they always  regarded me as a perfect catch for their sons.  That was scary. for a young woman of 22, full of dreams and had very miniscule idea of settling down.   

But our families come a long way.  They have been friends even before we  were born.  He to me was a successful test case.  Of someone with a weak self discipline, my faithless self on myself LOL , my earthly human desires that usually win over reasons and GMRC LOL LOL … so there, I came to realize and upheld, things far more important than emotions and physical attraction.

He went on with his harem of two J … I had my first escapades of dating a much younger man.  He couldn’t believe it, my dating preference.  And I was too proud to be just one of his options.  Not then, not now.

I went to a spiral (again).  So I left (again).  Cards dealt separately from then on.  But our families remained friends.  Our decision was wise and upright.

Reden passed away June of last year.  He was 45.  I learned about this just 2 weeks ago. I was spaced out.  I still smile each time I remember his (Kabitenyo) swag.  And proud of us for that conviction to stick it out with that decision.

Buti na lang our families, though now distant,  remained friends.  Buti na lang there was no bad, ugly, painful,  bitter break up between us.  We decided to have “no us”, and keep our childhood memories intact, sacred, pure and innocent.     

I wish you a happy journey in heaven, my dear friend.

You will always be part of my happy memories.

Reden and his girls. :)