It Will Never Be the Same

It has never been the same.

March 12 will never be the same.

I have always received wonderful gifts ever since I became aware of this world. Mom would always bring some toys that she knew I would really love to have. Dad would always surprise me with a pair of shoes just to see the blithe smile on my face. My sister, with her little amount of penny, would always save a peso or two before she goes home just so I could have a taste of that sweet candy. I was treated special for years. I was treated differently. All the attention was given to me. I was the favorite.

But everything is just a part of the "was." The world was perfect, until a younger brother came to our lives and became a part of our family.

"Could you prepare a bottle of milk for your brother? Couldn't you hear him crying out loud? He's so hungry!" My mom shouted at me as I was lying on the bed, taking some time to study and understand the difficult concepts of our literature lesson, while patiently acting unaware and unmindful of the disturbance brought by my brother's howling.

Rolling my eyes, I stood up with a heavy heart and grabbed the bottles arranged on the tables and started making the milk, especially requested for my precious brother. After a few seconds, the brash noise inside the room diminished. With a sigh of relief, I went back to my book and glued my eyes on the texts I could hardly understand.

The house where I live in is relatively small for the five of us. It has only two bedrooms: the first one is considered the master’s bedroom, whereas the other one is for the three of us - my sister, me, and the new one.

Having two people in one room was completely fine with me, especially now that my sister usually spends most of her time in the living room as a part of her work from home set up. I would generally start my day early in the morning by checking my phone to see if there are important emails from my school that I urgently need to attend to. This is followed by synchronous classes. These usually take up my whole day.

Caring for my new-born baby brother is something I am not really used to. While I appreciate that there is a new member in the family, I just could not find it timely to have him now. The birth of the new member took place in the most unprecedented time – the time we are all busy, the time of pandemic.

More than a blessing, I find his presence a responsibility. His stay in our little room makes me uncomfortable. As a student, I have to at least get an eight hour-sleep every night, just for me to consider myself a healthy one; however, ever since this newborn member came over and stayed in our room, having a complete number of sleeps is beyond impossible. I would usually be wakened up in the middle of night just to check if he is also asleep, or if he needs something. I would normally be disturbed and be required to stand up and prepare his milk. I would always make sure that there is no mosquito or an ant, or any other small insects around. I would always have to take care of the baby. More than willing, I felt it was my responsibility.

I was never used to having responsibility. I was the youngest, the favorite, and the center of attention.

But everything is just a part of the "was." Everything will not happen again.

One morning, I was wondering why the distressing howls of the baby inside the room did not wake me anymore. Instead, louder sounds of wails and screams filled the room. I thought I was in a different place. Everybody was just in the room. Whatever their reasons were, I never had an idea.

I stood up and asked them one by one.

“He is gone!”

“He has left us already!”

“What happened?”

I also asked myself what really happened. I never had a clue. I never had a hint. I did not notice anything that could have led here.

Then, my mother came. From her, I heard the most painful cry. It was a scream of a sorrowful mother who had just lost her baby.

I was never informed that this day would really come soon. Everybody in the house already knew that the baby has a special condition that must be monitored from time to time. This was the reason why the baby was born prematurely. This was the reason why I was not ready. But this was a reason, I was never aware of.

The baby that I have to check every night, the baby that I have to prepare milk for, the baby that I get annoyed with most of the time is the same baby that lies now in the coffin.

There he is. Sleeping calmly. He is very quiet. Serenity can be felt through his smile. It is just an artificial smile, but I feel its sincerity. It is as if, the baby tells me, “Are you happy now, my older brother, that I am finally gone? Are you happy now that I will not hinder you from being the favorite again?”

The baby in the coffin was too young to have an idea how jealous I was with his presence. He was too young to realize that envy filled my heart every time that the attention was being given to him – the attention that was never taken away from me for the longest years.

It has never been the same…and it will never be the same.

My room that welcomed the baby months ago is now completely different. It used to be visited by people, mostly relatives, who would wish to come and see the baby. It would always be filled with fruits and foods. It would always be filled with reactions, mostly a product of their amazement, surprise, and appreciation to my brother for him seeing him for the first time. Now, this room is totally different.

Everything happened in this small room. Everything began, happened, and ended in this room.

Today is March 12 again. It is the exact date when he was born last year. It is the same day when came into our lives. This is also the day the he left us.

It has never been the same. I was once the favorite son until the baby came over.

I missed the chance of having a baby in the room.

I miss the baby.

I missed baby brother.