Post Mortem Thoughts

If my blog was a significant other, it would break up with me for not even acknowledging that we've been together for a year...and neglecting it for so long.

Ahhh..... *sigh*. It's been quite a bit for me these past two weeks. A lot's happened so I'm bound to forget some details. The gears in my brain are slowly grinding again. I'm still blowing off the proverbial dust from my brain, so grammar and creative writing is optional at the moment. I've been on leave for close to two weeks because of a family emergency. My Aunt fell ill and passed away. It's something to watch new life being brought into this world but there no words when you see someone die in front of you. This was the woman who cared for me when I was alone. When I was practically the black sheep, she was there to support me. And all this while she was an ocean away from me. She would call me up like we were next door. And now her earthly vessel is a jar of ashes.

Like what I said at the mass, we all had a way of dealing with the grief; my way was that I never said goodbye to her during her final breaths. I sincerely believe that while her physical form is no more, she is still with us. What can we learn from all of this? Pass on the goodness she showed to all of us while she spent her days here on earth. Pass on the spirit of generosity and love. We all carry the piece of her that she shared with us. Take it out to the world and pass it on. My other aunt has a well-developed third eye which allows here to channel messages from those that have passed on. When an uncle of my mine died (who happens to be the husband of my recently deceased aunt) this other aunt of mine could tell us what messages he had for us. I recall that my uncle wanted to tell me that I'll be successful someday.

I'm being paranoid here, but since the dead can see these kind of things, I'm afraid my Aunt will now be able to see the blackness of my heart. The other side of me, the things that I'm ashamed of. It hurts to think that all she knew of me was that I was a good nephew. Now she'll see what I really am...the bad thoughts, the selfishness, the ugly things behind the facade.

I had to step on some toes and upset some people to leave and visit her, but I had to. The circumstances made it inevitable. I wouldn't have if it wasn't so important to me.

It was a surreal experience trying to get back home from the US. My status a non-revenue chance passenger doesn't allow me to get a seat if all slots are full. It took me several days before I could go home - hence it involved several trips to the airport, carrying my luggage and bringing it back to my cousin's place when they couldn't let me on the bloody plane. It's a good thing my cousin lives nearby, otherwise I'd either have to go to a nearby hotel, or sleep at the airport.

During this time, there was a strange old guy who I had a conversation with. He was an ex-military black guy married to a Filipina. He's been around, he tells me. A Vietnam veteran he is, and no stranger to the ways of the world. We were stuck in the same boat as he was a chance passenger as well. Huddled in the chance passenger crowd, we were waiting for any word of available seats. This was when he came up to me to start some chit-chat. He's a tall man, about 6 feet or so, bearing lines of experience and age on his face. He was chewing some sort of cinnamon candy which I could tell from his breath. They guy asked me to explain to his wife as to why we couldn't get a ride home. So being the nice guy I am, I explained to her (in tagalog) our common predicament.

He went on to explain to me how he knows so much about the Philippines having been around the world during his younger years in the military. It was the first country he has been to outside of the US. I didn't really answer much, I let him do most of the talking. Apparently, it must have made quite an impression for him to be knowledgable about the Marcos era onwards. The general flow of the dicussion was how the "screwed up" booking system of the airline was reflective of the general corruption back home. He goes on to preach to me (in a non-threatening and inspirational way) how I should be proud to be a Filipino and take it out to the world. I should not let the corrupt political powers that be control me and be their puppet. We should collectively tell them "hey, we're not going to take any more of this". Then he says "now I'm not asking you should start a revolt, but just be proud of what you are and don't let them control you". He tells me "now I now you're probably thinking, 'what the fuck is this black guy talking about? He doesn't even have a country of his own' ".

So here I am back home, with no intentions of starting any sort of social upheaval. Just the desire to go through the day without a hitch.