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Sinasalimpad ang mundo ng alaala ng dahas nang dumating ka sa amin isang walang malay na hatinggabi ng Setyembre 11, waring tangan mo sa nakakuyom at munti mong mga kamao ang lahat ng pasubali’t alalahaning kimkim ng pinid na mga labi at kumakabog na mga dibdib. Sa impit mong mga iyak nabuhay ang lahat at higit pa, mga daing ng nagsasalimbayang ligaya’t lumbay na siyang naging lagom ng siyam na buwang paghihintay.
Dumating ka nang walang pasintabi’t duda sa panahong mailap ang katiwasayan at may namumuong mga hidwaan, kaya’t minsa’y hiniling kong sana’y isinilang ka sa ibang pagkakataon kung kailan higit ang dahilan upang maging masaya. Ngunit dumating ka nang walang pasintabi’t duda, walang paumanhin o alinlangan, malusog ang katawan at masigla ang sikad ng mga paa. Pinilit kong isiping wala nang mas mahalaga pa.
Kapilas ka ng langit para sa aking kapatid, iyong ama. Tangos ng ilong, kayumanggi ng balat, pusong kurba ng mga labi. Higit mong kawangis ang iyong ina, liban sa iyong mga matang ngayon pa lamang ay tila may tangan nang talim at panunuri. Hindi maampat ang iyong mga iyak, at hindi minsang naitanong ko sa iyo kung ipinagluluksa mo ang iyong pagdatal sa mundo, o tinatangisan ang biglang liwanag na iyong nasumpungan. Kung anuman, biyaya kang idinuduyan sa bisig ng iyong mga magulang.
Subalit dapat mong malaman, gaano man kaaga o karahas, na isinilang ka sa panahon ng walang habas na pakikipagbuno, sa mga harayang hindi namin maisakatuparan, sa mga mali’t hindi, sa mga tanong na hindi nasagot at hindi na nais masagot, higit sa lahat, sa panahon ng pagkawasak at muling pagbuo. Hindi kita itinatatwa, hindi kita itinuturo, ngunit hindi rin kita isasalba/maisasalba sa haplit ng nagngangalit na alaala.
Sapagkat hindi nangingilala ang memorya, at raragasa itong tila pagbaha matapos ang tuluy-tuloy na pag-ulan, gaano mo man ito piliting paslangin at isilid sa kahon ng pag-usad at paglimot. Walang takot ka sanang makipagtitigan sa iyong kasaysayan; sanggol ka mang walang malay sa mga labang namumuo sa iyong kapaligiran, hindi ka sisinuhin ng mga punglo ng digmaan.
Kaya’t alalahanin mo ang bisa ng poot at kakayahan ng paglaban. Ikunot mo ang iyong noo sa pinakamaliit mang pagsaling sa mura mong katawa’t damdamin, sa bawat banta sa iyong katahimikan at mababaw na kaligayahan. Pag-umpugin mo ang iyong mga talampakan para sa lahat ng gagambala sa iyong pagkakahimbing, sa lahat ng sasagka sa iyong paglalayag sa lawas ng panagimpan. Pagsalikupin mo ang iyong mga palad bilang mga katagang walang hangin ni tunog, sa kasalukuyang pinagkakaitan ka lamang ng kapangyarihan ng salita. Tumangis ka, nakatutulig man at walang humpay, para sa kawalang katiyakan, sa paghulagpos at pananaig, sa nagtutunggaling galit at pag-ibig.
Ngunit huwag, huwag kalimutang sanggol ka pa lamang. Tanganan mo ang kamay ng iyong mga magulang sa panahong itakwil ka ng katahimikang mapanlinlang. Dibdib nila ang tangi mong sandigan sa pagkakataong ika’y panghinaan ng loob at takasan ng tapang. At ang iyong pananggalang, ang himig ng oyayi, ang marahang pagsambit sa iyong pangalan, waring nagpapaalala na narito ka, buhay, dumarama’t nakikibaka, at wala nang mas mahalaga pa.
Higit sa lahat, ilang taon pa mula ngayon, dapat mong maintindihan na tayo’y lumalaban sapagkat tayo’y napopoot, at tayo’y napopoot sapagkat tayo’y umiibig. Maaaring maglaho ang lahat sa isang iglap, subalit ito, ito lamang ang tanging iyo, ang walang maliw mong pag-aari.
*Para kay Euniz, aking unang pamangkin #Philippine Collegian
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This letter will not be posted. You are not meant to read this for many reasons. I don’t want you to lose hope, I don’t want you to feel frustrated, I don’t want a reply. I don’t want to hear your voice or read your response, hear your faltering voice and imagine your thin, aging face summon enough strength to crush my resolve. I don’t want to be reminded of the price I had to pay for coming home, I don’t want to feel guilty for staying.
For this is everything left unsaid, the resounding silence when you talk to me over the phone. This is me on truth serum. This is me unafraid to hurt you.
I am not apologizing to anyone, not even to you, for deciding to return home no matter the cost. That’s why I had to borrow a few dollars from you everytime I left for work. For three months I saved enough money for a one-way ticket back to Manila, accounting even living expenses for three months while I figured out what to do once I arrived home. I starved myself during lunchbreaks. All I bought were packs of cigarettes to at least quell the cold and unease.
It was the last straw when I had to kneel in front of Tita just to make you stop crying on my account. In a fit of extreme anger, she wanted to take back the keys to the car she loaned me. Because I simply dreamt of coming home. She felt she owned even my thoughts because she financed our exile. I didn’t care about her rage until you began to cry. You cried because you didn’t want me to take the bus, you didn’t want me to walk.
Everything was going according to my plan except that moment when I felt compelled to tell you while we were ordering lunch in a restaurant in Panorama that I had scheduled a flight home in three days, that I have already resigned from my job.
You didn’t know what I am capable of doing and enduring just to prove a point.
I lied when I told you that I had plans set, that I’m going home for a reason. The truth is, I’m still clueless, especially in this place where poverty reigns, a place hope and ambition abandoned. I know that the odds of success here is overwhelmingly low. You need to be cynical just to stay sane. I never believed that I’m better off here or that I’ll be able to achieve anything. There was no bargain at all, I exchanged everything for a meek and simple choice.
Choice, I believe, is the most powerful word in the English language. I wanted to subvert permanence, the thought that I’m stuck in that place, the thought that I’d be in perpetual exile. I just didn’t believe in the absence of choice. It is worse than shadows, It lurks especially in the darkest corners where we often choose to set our sanctuary.
Such is how I shunned the responsibility to assist you, in your old age, to settle in that place. After a year of therapy for a malignant tumor, you have become frail. Thin enough that I could lift you with one arm. Fits of cough still punctuate your every sentence. You are now thinking of working in order to make ends meet there. Do not ever think that I wasn’t hurt by what I’ve done.
And you still had the nerve to tell me, before I boarded the plane bound home, which was my last glimpse of you, that “the important thing is that I’m happy.” You should have cursed me then and disowned me as a son. It could have been much easier for me. # Philippine Collegian
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