November 11, 2011
Dear Carmi,
Hindi ko alam kung paano sisimulan ‘tong sulat na ‘to. I’ve never written you a letter when you were still here with us. And now, I’m writing you a letter that you’ll never get to read. And so, perhaps, I’m writing this more for myself… for our family, relatives, and friends. Seven and Alodia are right here beside me, as usual, nangungulit na naman, asking me questions like “Bakit ka nagsusulat para ke Ate Carmi e patay na siya?”
Tama nga naman.
Not having any clear and satisfying reasons why I am doing this, I keep on writing… typing, if you will. Today is Errol’s birthday. It’s also the second anniversary of my “rebirthday,” when I flatlined two years ago. Since that fateful day, I’ve always thought that I was a bit braver… owing to the fact that I’ve already “died,” and that just a few moments before I passed out, I’ve accepted, perhaps reluctantly, but still accepted the ineluctable reality that that was it. I was revived, but I’ve come to realize with greater clarity that at any given moment, I could die. Just like that.
And so, I thought, I should prepare for that moment. That moment of death and dying. But this time, I’d like to welcome her as a friend or lover, not reluctantly, but with, corny as it may seem, “open arms.” And so, with a kind of grim determination, I started to make an effort to cultivate in myself that readiness to face death should she come again unexpectedly to fetch me.
Oh, but life and death are full of surprises, and they threw me a wallop that almost unhinged me. Death did come again unexpectedly, not for me, but for you.
I’m still, as Mommy and all who love you, coming to grips with your being no longer here with us. Sometimes, I think of you as just being away for a very long vacation in some far away island with a beautiful beach, much like the one you’ve been dreaming of just a few months ago.
Ate Li told us that she dreamt of seeing boxes with letters on them arranged so as to read: “Kuya Ian, Kaysarap isiping matatanggap mo rin… Carmi.” Oh I will, Carmi. Balang araw, matatanggap ko rin. It’s hard. But I’ll get there. It’s hard because I have so many questions to ask you, so many things to tell you and I don’t know if these things will ever reach you. I hope they do. Haha, this is even harder than unrequited love, not being able to communicate with a loved one who loves you back. (Eto na naman yung mga pamangkin mo, ginugulo ako.)
Once, I came home tired and wanted to sleep. You were already sick then. Nakahiga ka non sa kama ng mga Mommy. Nahiga ako sa tabi mo. Wala akong t-shirt and you touched my back. Sabi mo, “Ang lamig, angsarap hawakan.” I didn’t reply then but I thought of transferring some of my health, my life-energy to you through that touch, wishing that you would get well, get better faster. (Juan would joke later after I told him this story: “Baka ikaw pinapasahan nya ng energy.”) I was thinking then, even if my life expectancy is cut short, just as long as yours is extended.
Several weeks later, beside you at the mortuary, I told you I’m willing to have my life taken away just to have you back. After all, I’ve already died. And I still think it every now and then, my life for yours.
But as it is… as it is… here I am, writing this letter. And you… there, somewhere, perhaps in some far away island with a beautiful beach. And I’m thinking… perhaps, in some parallel universe, I did die and was never revived on that fateful day on November 11, 2009. And you’re the one writing me a letter similar to this one. In that parallel universe, you’d probably get married and have lots of beautiful children, and grow old to be a doting grandmother to your beautiful grandchildren, as Mommy is to our nieces.
Well, I hope to see you someday… and hug you, and talk to you… Perhaps, we already are doing this, in some parallel (perhaps more properly, perpendicular) universe…
But know that in all these multiverses, I love you.
We love you.
Carmi. Imrac. Carmechay. Taciturn’s Blood. Kendankill… Carmina.
Love,
Kuya Ian