When A Sibling Dies It's Like A Leaf Has Fallen to The Ground

My brother's requiem...

He was our family's cream of the crop; brilliant, charismatic. He was always the head of his class. I don't blame my parents and siblings for adoring him, he was an all straight, principled, remarkable man. He was sharp and snappy. In college, he was the Corps Commander of his ROTC class and looked so exquisite in his military uniform.

He was a devout catholic as emblazoned by my parents and he was very good at being the bests among his siblings. We don't envy him. He was after all, our pride. He was well- polished in manners, actions and judgments. He radiates perfections. But it was this strong faith and too straight a character that puts my relationship with him in rough roads since I came out of the closet too early enough, I threw all cautions to the wind and pretenses, to the bin. He wasn't happy about my rebellious revelation of self.

From then on, our relationship soured everyday. He became our high school's Commandant and was very unforgiving of my mischiefs. His lukewarm affection hurts me deeply. His lack of empathy and compassion to my difficult and bitter struggles to find myself made my youth so difficult. Like my father, uncles and everyone that bore my last name, they treasured and protect a glossy image. I was perceived as adversary with nothing to do but defame a well- guarded family image.

I was a little too young to handle a very large problem and reality of self and no one, not even him with so much wisdom knows what I was struggling about and our world collided all the time. From high school through college, he was a little decent in according my existence with courtesy. But I knew deep inside him, he hated my being me.

One thing in life I learned to stand on my own and sucked up all his indifferences but I think somewhere, we tried to find the love siblings should normally nurtured. His coldness at times were like tiny pins that pierced my heart yet we continue to be civil. He let go of his resistance of everything that I was in front of him and to his friends. But he was a very good man with untarnished reputation.

When  he got married, I took care of his only daughter who became very closed to me. At this juncture, even if I cared for his daughter with all my love, he still was very reluctant at introducing me to his circles, I mean prided himself about me. I stayed away when they hosts a celebration or stay in the room with my niece.

I am not defaming him because no matter what, he was also trying to accept me. Sometimes he would acknowledged some stuff I did and smiled at my mischiefs when I was older. When  I went overseas, he would shake his head admiring my guts of leaving home as no one does. A little accolades from him was already big for me.

When our mother died, he was the one who called me, as the family's spokesperson all the time, and broke the news gently as he can. He knows my relationship with my mother, something he does respect and recognized as very special. In fact, he holds the umbrella to shelter me from the scorching heat of the mid- noon sun as we walked together at her funeral.

I was able to make several homecomings before he died instantly on a massive cardiac arrest in the  late 2010. On my last homecoming, before me and my roommate proceeded to the airport for our departure to Canada, we treat him for his surprised birthday and asked him to make a wish which he loudly expressed, "Longer life..." A few months after, he died.

I have to come home for him. My father was already on wheel chair. I have to be with him and will not missed the opportunity to send him to his final journey. The family's prince has come home to his Creator.

My homecoming to be with him may have been his wished because a series of weird circumstances played so clear in my journey home. He must have desired for me to be on his side for the last time.

Blood is thicker than water. Whatever misgivings we had now weighs heavy in my heart. Some gentleness gripped me as I stood to pay homage to my brother lying still inside his coffin. Perhaps the strangeness of our relationship and hard-to-find affection may have reenforced that feelings of loneliness I felt for him and for the first time.

Here was the man who at times made me felt unwanted yet played many heroism to so many people, lying peacefully in front of me. The pain looking at my father who, even on a faltered understanding due to his stroke still uncontrollably shed tears and my presence made him strong, made everyone strong. After all, everyone branded me my deceased brother's "junior" physically and mentally.

He was loved....

I may have been too occupied with my own personal reminiscences on him that I didn't noticed what my siblings been praying I would discover. He was actually placed on a small coffin. A modus operandi by funeral homes that I didn't knew of. Everyone knows except me and everyone waited for me to free him from his tight space, a sick and utter disrespect to earn more money out of my brother's death and everyone else.

Funeral homes involved on this crime will put a cadaver on a coffin smaller than their length and size. When the family discover and complained, they will ask for a ridiculous additional amount to replace the coffin. Sometimes it reaches to 30-60,000 thousand pesos to be given the right size.

The next scenario was unforgettable as I put all viewers at bay. I was in a state of tunnel vision where my brother's coffin was forced open so that a medical doctor can check if they didn't mutilate his legs to fit in that coffin. A series of very heated arguments ensued and threats between me and the funeral home Owners, whoever they are and I can't find  enough reason to dip my hands into my pockets to pay them for the right coffin. I demanded his coffin be replaced at no extra cost or the media will be called and swarm the place.

His brother-in-law led the requiem mass...

My brother and his small coffin was wheeled at the back of the chapel and into the funeral's lavatory. A new coffin was wheeled and was moved to the new one. I discovered he was barefeet as his shoes were laid on the side as it won't fit if they let him wore them. His forehead bore a mark of the previous coffin's lid. Imagine the insult and degradation and disrespect felt and I forgot I wasn't that very closed to him in his lifetime.

He was wheeled back to the chapel on a new coffin while he long line up to view his body was put on hold. Looking at him again, I felt so exhausted, too tired to even felt a thing about what happened. What a tragedy and what a big responsibility he placed on my shoulder of fighting for him the last time? I never expected it.

The memorial mass...

I felt asleep while waiting for my flight back to Canada after he was laid to rest. I was awoken by spray of a cologne or perfume on my face. I could feel the mist settled coldly on my face. When I opened my eyes, the plane was already slowly taxiing on the runway ready to fly me back to Canada. I wipe the mist from my face and closed my eyes to smell the perfume. No one was there with a perfume. All passengers were seated and left on their own thoughts.

As I looked out the window, I was wondering if he intends to make it happen so he can fell the love I failed to give him as well? I left him a perfume on my last homecoming. Was it a way of telling me that yes, he did love me after all? Whatever the perfume meant...I gave him the justice he deserved and I thanked him for that precarious moment that redefined the absence of love and affection we tried to fix in our lifetime. I think he gave me an opportunity to be his hero before we really part forever.

The family's heirloom finds peace with his Creator.

His long journey home...

Photo by professional photographer Ryan Li. My niece' American husband.