Waking

My grandmother’s brother died a few days ago. I only knew his name, Allen, on the day the wake was to take place. I didn’t really care for it when my parents told me to attend for them. It felt like a nice change of pace. Reminders of death tended to humble me. I don’t know if it’s an odd thing to think about, given I still have three-fourths of my life ahead of me. Even then, I already consider myself old. Is this what a quarter-life crisis is? My death to come unannounced, at a time beyond my foresight, under circumstances I may or may not see coming. Wakes gave me those reminders. The ones that happen to people I don’t know well, at least. That way I am not burdened by unrelenting grief. They provide for me two things: time to reflect on past, present, and future, and time to reconnect with family members.

The first person I saw as I walked into the wake was my younger cousin, Beth. I didn’t know why I was still expecting to see a three-foot girl with clothes chosen out for her by her parents. The past image in my mind of a cute baby in a crib was now being weathered away and replaced by that of an awkward teen in glasses wearing a pink polo she probably picked out. I didn’t know she had gotten as tall as me in the time I hadn't seen her. 

I came up to her and asked her how she was. 

“I’m okay,” she said. There was a faint sense of stress laced in those words, probably on account of her going to college in Manila soon. That would be the start of many firsts for her: her first time living alone, her first time away from the friends she grew up with, and her first time tasting true independence and the temptations that come with that. It was probably a lot for her to take in. I’d know, I lived it. So in the wake, she took her time to sit on the couch to play Dream Idols, one of those rhythm games I used to play a version of back in the day. Except, she was much better at it than I was. My youngest sister was online at the time, and Beth spoke in whispers as she communicated with Hannah while her thumbs flew across the screen to hit all the notes. 

I hadn’t realized how much time had passed since I played a game like that. As bad as the pandemic lockdown was for a lot of people, there was a sense of nostalgia being locked at home with everyone else. All of us cousins lived in the same neighborhood, and that gave us a chance to hang out and spend time with each other. We got close then, all three of our families. In fact, for all the problems that were common between in-laws and family members, I barely heard any. The gang consisted of my one cousin Beth, my sister Hannah, and my other same-age cousin Liam, whose arrow-shaped nose we always poked fun at—quite literally, at times. While the parents were doing parent-like things, us kids had such fun at our sleepovers. We played a bunch of games on the old Wii and PS4 systems, which mostly involved me beating all of them Power Crush Brothers or Dekken. When that got boring, we’d set up a game of Mahjong and go for ten rounds at once. As the night drew to a close, we’d wind down with a version of Truth or Dare as tame as you could get to include a cousin who used to be fourteen. And in the time between we’d insert games of Project Wonderband, the spiritual precursor to Dream Idols. My fingers were fried constantly. Liam was so bad, we had to remind him, “One note at a time,” to keep his fingers from getting spaghettified. We spent so many days trying to get certain characters and complete “expert” difficulty levels of songs sung in Japanese. My favorite character was this one girl with a violet streak in her hair tied into a ponytail, and she would jam out in a band composed of all her high school friends with their own unique quirks. We each had our favorites, and there was a lot of playful screaming and crying whenever someone else got who they were trying to go for. Hannah’s favorite was this one girl who dressed like a rainbow panda out of shyness, and she squealed like a mouse when I got that character instead of her. Moments like that never die.

The game was still on my phone. I just haven’t opened it in three years. Staring at Beth’s screen, I did not recognize any of the characters in this new game, much less the songs she was playing. It looked like a lot of fun, but where I was in life, I did not know if I could play like that again. After lockdown restrictions were lifted, we each went about our own businesses. Liam went to Singapore to continue his studies, and maybe get a girlfriend along the way. His eldest brother, Chris, was taken under his father’s wing as the successor of their technological empire. As for Johann, the middle brother, he was in Manila working as a doctor after having come out as gay. I do not know exactly how they reacted to the news, but I do know that Johann hasn’t come home in the two years since then. Beth continued with high school until her graduation not long ago, and her younger brother Rem was now two years away from his own graduation.

After I saw Beth, a slightly younger cousin came up to me. I didn’t recall her name, but her face was still the same. In my mind, she was still the youngest of a trio of cousins from a different side of the family. Now, here she stood in front of me, asking me what she should choose for senior high: STEM, or ABM? Their problems seemed equal part real and equal part trivial. Intimidating, yet highly solvable. Solvable only by the gift of hindsight I had. In fact, I was probably in the same boat as them back then. It’s crazy to think about that, because I almost don’t recognize that kind of person to be me anymore. I remember being incredibly frustrated being told, “You’ll be fine. Just walk one step at a time,” because it gave me nothing to work with. Before I knew it, I had walked ten miles ten times over. I gave more or less the same advice with a dash of my experience sprinkled over. It wasn’t much, but they seemed to appreciate it. I realized then just how much older we had all gotten. 

Ten years ago, most big family gatherings would be for celebrations of birthdays and holidays, filled with new parents, hopeful adults making their start or going strong with whatever business they were into, their kids running around on the grass or playing whatever generation video game console was popular at the time. Nowadays, with more concern for direct kin, one of the only times big gatherings were ever held was for if someone died, which was becoming increasingly common now. My first three wakes happened in the span of twenty-two years. My last four happened in the last two. 

The third person I met was Allen’s wife, Linda. She had a dark shawl around her, the hairs on her head now grey, but still bearing that jolly smile when she saw me walk up to her. That hadn’t changed in the twenty-four years she and I have been alive.

“There you are, you handsome boy,” she said and took my hand, giving it a squeeze. She looked relaxed and at ease without a streak of worry or sadness in her eyes. It was as if she had reached the acceptance stage long before what had happened. Her comfort was reassuring in a time as chaotic as this one. 

“Good evening, ama,” and I took her hand and bowed my head to touch her knuckles. 

She asked me what I was doing nowadays. I told her I had an MD now, and that I’d be taking the boards next year. 

“You’re a doctor already?” She mused. “Where did the time go?”

I told her I didn’t know, because I ask myself the same thing. It still feels weird to call myself a doctor. Back then, being a doctor seemed like a faraway dream. I’d been repeating “I want to be a doctor” ever since first grade. That was eighteen years ago. I’m still not sure if that sentiment truly came from me or if it was brainwashed into me by my father. I like to think it was a mix of both. But is even that thought my own?

Honestly, it’s hard to tell. My parents were a constant in my life growing up. If superheroes existed, that was who they were. They were the cause of so much joy and stability in my life. My dad was a doctor, and my mom was a businesswoman. As far as I was concerned, they were untouchable. Growing up, I do not ever recall hearing them talk about any problems. They would constantly buy me games for doing well at school, allow me to go out with friends (under certain circumstances), we’d go out as a family and watch movies, and always go on vacations. It’s because of them that I can look back on my developing years with a smile. Most of the time, anyway. 

If supervillains existed, that was also who they were. As spotless as their lives were, it was in fact mine that was riddled in them. Every time I’d leave my ID at home, complain about my problems, or be late to school, they would make sure I knew in excruciating detail why it was my fault. Carelessness and forgetfulness were no excuse; I just had to plan better. Genuine mistakes meant I was doing it wrong. Too many times in my life have I listened to the rage in my dad’s voice, and the scathing generalizations of my mom.

Do you even care?

Why are you so careless? You’re not supposed to be.

Even then, why didn’t you do this? You should have known better.

Though the rate at which they say those things has since tremendously been lowered, their echoes still bounce against the walls of my mind. I know I’m being hard on myself, and that’s a step I’m taking learning to unlearn. I also know that their childhoods were vastly different from mine, and as such has influenced the way they brought me up. They just wanted the best for me. Since then, I’ve been learning to forgive them. And when that mental shift started happening, I noticed them for who they really were—human. My dad subtly pushing medicine on me was just so that I don’t end up broke and homeless on the street one day. Them saying all those things to me was probably the watered down version of everything told to them. Back then, all I had to do was listen. My childhood taught me to be an obedient kid. But obedience could only get you so far. Everyone has a limit. If you don’t stand up for yourself enough, if you don’t fight for yourself enough. Grit is good, yes. But the spirit can only be damaged so much before you it starts to cave in. Maybe that’s why since I’ve been in college they’ve been telling me about work problems. How my mother was actually a pretty anxious person all these years and yet, continues to work in a high stress job. How my dad also has had episodes of forgetfulness, carelessness, and lapses in judgement. Could I chalk it up to old age? Or have those problems always been there? I don't really know. But time was taking its toll. And that toll caught up to my mom.

After talking to Linda, an auntie I didn’t know pulled me aside with a wave. 

She leaned over to me and spoke in a hushed voice. “How’s your mom? I heard about her…”

The “C” word was one I was still getting used to. Every time I hear it, my mind takes me to the end. It’s not a matter of how, but when, that constantly plagues me. 

“She’s doing better,” I told her. “The chemo went well and she’s on maintenance now.”

“That’s good,” Auntie said with a nod. “I saw her with hair na, she looks healthy.”

But the thing about cancer was that it was a ticking time bomb attached to a snake hiding in the sand. I saw it slither away, yes. But I have no way of knowing if it will ever come back, and if it does, when? I try not to think about it too much. What matters was that she, at this moment, was cancer-free. I had to hold on to the hope that it would stay that way until the end.

“Yeah she does, doesn’t she?” I smiled. “I’m happy about that.”

As time passed, I thought I had seen everyone planning to visit the wake. But in came a certain arrow-nosed individual that got me walking his way immediately. I greeted Liam with a hug. He had just flown in from Singapore after securing some time off from his job at IBM. 

I walked with Liam to Allen’s coffin. Allen looked so peaceful inside, his lips drawn into a little smile like he knew he lived a full life. I wonder if that was true. Though then again, who can definitively say what a “full life” was anyway? It’s all steps and stages, some harder to climb than others. But I suppose when you reach the end, it’s easier to smile at all the steps you’ve gone through.

Afterwards, we both hit the buffet. After piling on a plate of rice, spring rolls, deepfried crab sticks, and roast beef, Liam and I sat next to each other on a table with two other uncles I didn’t recognize, but according to my mother should have. I greeted them the same way I greeted my ama. 

Uncle 1 asked me about my parents. I gave them a cookie-cutter answer.

Uncle 2 asked about Liam’s.

“Mom and Dad will come later in the week. They’re busy with work.”

When the two uncles left, I knew I had to ask about them.

“How are your parents?” I asked. “How’s Johann?”

Liam exhaled and put down his utensils. “Not gonna lie, it’s been rough. From what I heard, anyway. My dad told my mom to step down from the company. He called her a liability while he continues to stretch himself thin across a bunch of avenues—multimedia, hardware, software, a supply chain, man, I dunno how he intends to keep himself sane. Meanwhile, my mom’s been going out a lot. Enjoying her life. She met up with Johann in Manila, I think they’re getting along. No news from dad, though.”

“How does that work? What’s the house like?”

Liam shook his head. “One dinner at the table was all I needed to sense things were off, man. I just hope they work it out. But you know my dad. Hardheaded. Like talking to a fossil.”

“Times like that, it get me thinking about how stuck in their ways the old generation are. And that a lot of it is up to us now to change things, you know?”

“Yeah no, definitely. I just hope they smoothen things out man.”

I didn’t want to belabor the point, so I changed the subject. “What about you, what have you been up to?”

His eyes lit up. “I found a girlfriend in Singapore. She’s smart, she’s funny, she gets me, man. I want to spend more time there, you know? Get to really know her for herself. Oh, and work my way up to finally meeting her family.”

“You are wild for that,” I said. “You intend to come home though, right?”

“Yeah, I think. We’ll see. Future’s uncertain, and all that. I’d rather do what’s right for me at the moment. Once I go home for good? I don’t think I’ll be as free anymore. Besides, Chris is home to help out my dad. I think they’ll be just fine.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Liam leaned forward. “What about you? How have you been?”

“Ah, me?” I shrugged. “I’m okay, I guess. Living life and all that. Just floatin on by.”

“I want details man, I haven’t seen ya in a while. How’s your family been? How have you bee? Everything okay?”

I take another bite of food from my plate. It’s cold, chewy, and hard to swallow. “It’s hard. I’m taking my internship in Cebu because I wanted to stay close to mom. I have to juggle my own mental health and the demands of being a doctor, a son, brother, and a friend. Everyone’s relying on me. It’s a heavy feeling.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. Don’t be too hard on yourself, you’re doing good, man.”

That broke me a little. Out of all the times I’ve said something like that to myself, it’s different when someone else says it to you. Maybe because you actually believe it more. I thought about Allen’s expression. The peace at the end of the road.

Eventually, I would get there. But until then?

Thinking about it brought a surge of energy in my chest. Wakes are just as much about the dead as they are about those who are still alive. 

I brought my glass up to him. “One note at a time, right?”

Liam chuckled and brought his glass up. “One note at a time.”