Death and Acceptance

There have been so many deaths in my life lately that I'm finally breaking down. With the launch of The Bad Date List, I cannot help but think about my friend, Raul who trained and shaped me to be the SA advocate that I am. He died during the early stages of COVID; I knew he was disabled with a chronic illness as well, I am unsure of the diagnosis. Like a tumbleweed, spreading its trauma seeds through the wind of life, Raul wasn't the beginning. Throughout the years, death has taken all of my grandparents and my maternal uncle before I got to know them, following with: my aunt who had Parkinson's, one of my favorite cousins who had heart and weight concerns, and even our shitty, paternal grandfather who left our Nanay Conching (Concepcion) with several children! Not to mention friends and acquaintances, co-workers and colleagues, members of my communities, and even my clients. Do you recognize that feeling of, you know nothing bad is going to happen, but you're still anxious about it? That is how I am constantly feeling nowadays. I've been thinking about death a lot and reflecting on my thoughts on it prior to becoming disabled. 

I remember seeing my first dead body when I was less than 5 because I was still in the Philippines; it must've been an inordinately, early memory because of my POV (it was very low). I specifically remember getting hurt from touching the coffin’s wood, attaining a splinter and didn't tell anyone. At that age, I already understood that this was not the time nor place to act out because of how sad the room felt (and my family had me trained like a dog). When it was time for us to see the body, somebody picked me up to let me see. I don't remember the face, just the essence of grief. I didn't cry, I was intrigued. 

“Why are they being displayed?” 

“Why are people crying?” 

“Why do I feel like I want to cry?” 

“Why/who are all these people here?”

“Why am I crying over a stranger?” 

“Why am I here?” 

[MAY 2 UPDATE: A DRUNK DRIVER DROVE THROUGH A FILIPINO FESTIVAL IN VANCOUVER] Recently, two Filipino actors passed away back-to-back within a span of two to three days: Pilita Corrales and Nora Aunor. Drag performer, Jiggly Caliente, also passed away the following week at the age of 44. Whenever a beloved Filipinx icon dies, we mourn. I've been to too many funerals where the nanays (mothers), kapatid (sibling), pinsans (cousins), kaibigan (friends and lovers), and even estrangheros (strangers). I bawled at both of my tita’s (aunt) and pinsan’s (cousin's) viewings/memorials during COVID; I even attended virtual funerals for my married ex-friends’ combined family: his brother and grandmother, along with her sister and mother. All while consuming a show with the secondary seasonal topics of death and forgiveness (TLOU). 

Then I did a mental health exercise; I have always wondered if I would cry when my mother passes. I thought about her being gone and there were no emotions. Of course, this was during a specific headspace, but then I thought about my brother and cried immediately. I even said, alone and out loud, “nope. I can't. I don't even want to think about it, I won't get anything done for the rest of the day,” proceeding with tears being wiped by a paper towel. Then I started to think about my close friends and sobbed uncontrollably, but whenever I imagined my mother, the crying stopped. This is how my body feels about the person who birthed me which is not fucked up because there are just some things that can't be forgiven. She's a narcissist, unwilling to unlearn, and hates me. She hates me because I'm a free, happy woman and navigating my life how I want to live it. Her need to control me no longer bothers me, in fact, I pity her. I feel bad that she doesn't know how amazing her daughter is. How intelligent I am. She's missing out! I'm letting you go, Mi. I'm going to work on my gift for Di for Father's Day; I'm working on a cover of Big Girls Don't Cry by Fergie. I have a specific memory of him commenting on it on one of our daily commutes to 3rd grade, up until high school. I was reaching for my iPod (I still have it!) to change the song, but he intervened with, “‘wag, anak. Gusto kong kantang yan,’” [don't, my child. I like this song]. 

Death is inevitable, but we’ll return our life’s energy into the future.