My Brother Left for Canada

My brother left for Canada today. He really left. He said he would do it and then he did. I feel like the whole thing was decided overnight. I’ve been in Baguio and Novaliches for the past two weeks and I wasn’t really around for any of it except for today: the last day. The fact that I even went on those trips might hint to you that he and I weren’t at all close. I love him as much as one could love a brother who he doesn’t drink with, he doesn’t go to for help or even talk to outside of calling through the bathroom door asking, “are you done yet?” I originally wrote “loved” in that last sentence and went back and erased the “ed” I guess that’s telling as well. He’s gone. Last night he was driving me home from dinner with our grandparents (my parents had brought a separate car because they’d planned to go to Heckle and Jeckle again). It turned out we had a lot more in common than I thought. He wanted to stay in the Philippines but his major concern was financial, he wanted to live in different places all over the world and other more personal things as well. Today, I wasn’t even sure I was going to the airport to say goodbye to him (I hadn’t really gotten a decent night’s sleep since Tuesday) but I’m glad I did. Despite the insightful evening and all 30 or so minutes of what was quite possibly the longest conversation I’ve had with him since we were boys, I still caught myself exasperated at some of the things that went on in the car ride to NAIA. He hadn’t distributed his cash into different places which was traveling 101 for me, when I told him that liquids weren’t allowed in his hand carry, I would have expected him to move his facial products into his suitcase even if my mom said that the limit was 100ml but she wasn’t sure if it was in total or per container, but he didn’t, little thing like that that made it hard for us to share much more than a bathroom. Some part of me was even annoyed that I couldn’t talk about the writing workshop that I had just come back from and was still excited about because I didn’t want to make everything about me. And so, we unloaded his luggage, he hugged my dad and then my mom and kind of awkwardly put his arm around my shoulder. He let go and looked at us and his face became pink, and scrunched up. His shoulders began to jerk and not so suddenly, we were brothers and we cried. My parents were surprisingly calm. My dad told him to think of it as a vacation, if he didn’t like it, he could always come back. On the ride home, I was quiet.

Unsent e-mail

Don’t laugh

I finally got around to reading Harry Potter (don’t worry, no spoilers) and I feel like I’ve lost a dozen friends. It’s not because of what happens in the plot or anything but just because it’s the last time that Harry and his friends will ever be written about (Although part of me wishes that JK Rowling will do some kind of prequel about James, Lily and Snape). The seventh book was my last party with them, my last three day/one year journey and I feel like it came and went. Having lost all those fictional friends, I thought I’d write to my friends in the flesh.

It’s just that, its not only sad in itself but - and I’m not sure how much sense this will make but – its sad that its not so sad anymore. And that goes for all of life. Its sad that its not so sad that we’ll never go through LM induction again. Its sad that its not so sad anymore that we five never get to see each other anymore. Its sad that its not so sad that Tammy, Nana and I are graduating and will soon be leaving behind the biggest chunk of what we have come to understand as our lives as we know them.

I used to get really obsessed with these things as a kid. Final Fantasy 8, A Knight’s Tale, Harry Potter, I’d really let myself go, let myself believe and to be taken into these impossible worlds in words or on screen, embarrassed of the indirect relationship between my age and my level at which I’d been smitten. I took suspension of disbelief to a different level. I’m sure I’m not the first one but I wanted to go to Hogwarts, I wanted to joust on horses and win a princess and, I wanted to fight monsters with my gang of friends. It’s sad that its not that sad anymore that I can’t see myself doing those things ever again. Maybe I’m having an early quarter-life crisis but I used to believe that the word “Idealistic” was a complement. Now its fast becoming a synonym for “Naïve”.

I guess it’s really the same thing I was saying before about relationships. I was afraid that I’d been damaged or numbed. I think it’s the thought of having lost potency. The thought of being less than what I was, weaker, deficient and somewhat calloused.

I - thank - you. Hahaha.

dru