#ntgnthntr

[somberlyyours]

IV.

March 13, 2023

3:30 a.m.

Tumon, Guam

I am numb. I am writing this as I dejectedly wait for the taxi that will take me to Guam International Airport for my flight back to Manila. Near the end of last month, around the time I was in Baguio (or right after leaving Baguio), I was spiritedly playing the song Marching On by OneRepublic on repeat, eager to get on with the new month and leave the ghosts of February behind. I thought I was going to have cards to play when March comes around. But the month is not even halfway through, and my illusion is quickly coming undone. I am unraveling. I can imagine feminists and women empowerment advocates and gurus around the world collectively groaning from second-hand embarrassment.

The first week of the month became family week. One of my nieces had her first birthday party. I was early at the restaurant. Kept to myself mostly. Hogged the photo booth. Paid for a second cake because the custom one my sister ordered was running late. Played errand girl. Joshed with Jollibee the mascot. Gave some food to a man who came in looking for a meal. I was too queasy to eat much. The custom cake arrived at the last minute. As soon as it arrived, I took pictures of it and left the restaurant, right behind the photography crew. I booked a Grab car. The driver was mercifully stationed right across from Jollibee. I was deflated and depleted. Chronic fatigue is no joke.

I do not know exactly what possessed me to travel to my birth province the next day, but I did. I was playing punk or metal music part of my way there to tune out everyone in the mini-bus. I cannot recall the playlist that I found, but the songs in it got some arguably dark and troubling messages in them. I may had been trying to scare myself into a having a heart attack.

I met with my father and one of my brothers at the mall and tried to figure out finances. We could not. I was quite upset.

We went to the appliance store after that. I bought my youngest brother a small washing machine. I am not quite sure what ails him. My father said the doctor could not tell them. I wanted to lighten his load a little, so that he is not spending hours painstakingly doing laundry for himself and his big brother by hand. I did not get back to my “cell” in Q.C. until late that night.

The following three days I was sleepless and restless. I booked my trip to Guam and had been debating whether or not to go. I only had about six hours of sleep in all of those three days. Maybe less. I kept having bouts of numbness in my extremities that travel up to my neck that kept me awake. I ended up going and it was there in Guam that I found out Pop had passed away.

I was searching online to confirm his landline number to say hi to him when instead, I found his obituary. I had no words to describe all of the emotions that hit me all at once. I tried so hard to keep in touch with him, but I’d been repeatedly unsuccessful in calling or FaceTiming him on his iPhone soon after my last visit with him in April 2023. But since I had been quite preoccupied with my survival ever since, I guess I did not push as hard as I could have had to get ahold of him. The divorce cut me off from the only grandfather who showed me love. And I can only fight so many battles at once. On top of failing to visit with an old family friend in Guam, finding out about Pop’s death crushed my heart, my soul, and my spirit. He is gone from this world and I cannot grieve or cry hard enough. I cannot even bring myself to sign his guestbook for fear of saying the wrong thing and dishonoring his memory.

I could have stayed for two more days in Guam. The hotel room was paid for until the 15th. I truly did not know why I booked a premature return flight to Manila. I was not thinking clearly, obviously. I was and still am a mess. The grief made me panic. I thought I would have enough money to book a flight from Manila to Florida to see him laid to rest. No, I would not.

What is the lesson to be learned in all of this here? I honestly can’t say at this time. I had been told that obsessing over the could, should, and would haves is futile. Sayang daw ang panahon. There is no point pining for lost time. And I get it. I really do. But it is not easy to be objective about one’s internal experiences and life decisions. I am not OK. I’ll just have to be OK with that for the moment, I guess.