Farewell Baby Sister

One July day in 1975, a 6 year old boy was woken up by his mother. The mother gently said “Wake up, look at your new baby sister….”. The boy saw his younger, 4 year old brother already playing with the baby as it cooed. It was such a memorable day. That boy was me. That infant was Fatima, my new baby sister.

At 36, my mother became diabetic when pregnant with my brother. She could not have any more children. At the time we welcomed Fatima, I kinda figured out that she was adopted. Still, it did not matter, for we all loved her. She knew that. Growing up, we would shower her with kisses, hugs and gifts. Yes, she was spoiled. Fatima was also very loving. She cared for my mother when she fell ill, all by herself. Years passed and during adolescence she became rebellious. At such a young age, she had problems at school, became a wild child and eventually, she ran away from home, with child. That was the time that when our family was broken hearted. Our little angel left us, just like that. It was hard. In 1974, my Godmother had a household helper that became pregnant. I think my mom was visiting her when she told her about it. She thinks a cop was the father. My Godmother Pilar, asked the helper what she wanted to do with and she was thinking of an abortion. My mother without any hesitation, stepped in and asked if she could take the baby even while still in the womb, not knowing if it was a boy or girl and anything else about the biological parents. My mother would often tell me about my how my grandmother repeatedly saying to her that when the time comes and she has children of her own and someone close to her offers a child for adoption, to take it. The child is a gift from God and it brings good luck to the family. My Grandmother uneducated herself, was right.

When Fatima left us, my mother while, devastated confirmed that she was not her own child and eventually told us why she did it. Years passed and Fatima came back. She brought an angel with her that brightened up our home with love. Her firstborn Samantha made the last years of my mother simply “magical”. She was also my father’s bundle of joy. For me, she was the closest thing to a daughter I ever had. After my mother’s passing, Fatima settled in Palawan and had more children. She may not have finished school but she knew some things about family. All her children and grandchildren loved her immensely, despite her imperfections. My baby sister had high blood pressure. While in bed, she suffered a stroke and was already stiff when she was found by her kids. Fatima was 50 years old. I wish things could have been different. Though I am sure that she knew that we all loved her. Each night, as I light a candle and toast to her life, I pray that she may rest, peacefully. Fly to the angels baby sister. Farewell.

Farewell Old Friend

Yesterday afternoon, as I was braving the rains enroute to Sta. Rosa, Laguna to my friend's wake I encountered flooding of a different kind. With a big size pancit palabok platter in tow, I drove.

Like the wet roads leading me to the cemetery, my mind was drenched only with memories. It was an uncontrollable kind of flood, the kind that brings joy and at the end, sadness. I mostly hung out with Harvey Baybay as a High School sophomore and senior. Classmates during the former and just going all over the place even if we came from different classesin the latter. As I drove, it all came back, it was not in trickles. It also did not help that I was playing the old school funk in my LSGH ’87 playlist.

Vividly, I recall how one time Harvey and I we got lost in Ateneo looking for an LSGH-ADMU soccer game. In full LSGH uniform, we ended up in a wrong field where ADMU upper classmen were having soccer intramurals. We asked for directions and the guys were polite enough to direct us to the correct field until we turned our backs and they started heckling us. Now it was just Harvey and I. Instinctively I turned around and as I was about to tell them to go screw themselves, Harvey then dragged me back to the car. Now I am sure we did not stand a chance against about sixty Ateneans anyway. Harvey saved our asses. We could have been killed in the mid-80's.

In our senior year we would jam with the likes of Inaki Jose, Raffy Intac and a bunch of other lady friends from St. Scho on weekends- lifelong friends we made with them St Scho. friends. In true La Salle style, we rolled around everywhere from the Polo Club, all over Greenhills, Makati, Sir William's Apartelle to the Silahis Hotel to club at Stargazer. Each time we rode in a tricked out Manta, Escort, Porsche or a top down Benzo. When we had house parties at Harvey’s our classmates would even pose at his garage for pics with the cars. Life happened. Harvey went abroad for school. Got his masters at back here. His future was bright.

He just knew how to dial it down with them. We even went to UP after class because he was going for a college chick, way much older and mature than us high schoolers. We even crashed a bunch of college parties. Harvey was a cool, suave & confident guy. One weekend, Harvey kidnapped me and drove up to their ancestral house in hometown in Cabuyao. I realized it was also raining hard then, just like this day. The Baybay clan graciously hosted us to food and drinks. Despite the hard rain we were happy. In the now, as I trek into Sta. Rosa, I feel sadness. The raindrops were like gushing tears from heaven. I could go on and on. I did not see Harvey much until way after college. The last time I visited him was in our 25th year at his house where I got trashed and spent the night. It was good that I also got to hang out with the crew he rolled with. He also had his dark years. The substance got its way with him. Despite his hard times, Harvey maintained that dignified air with his matching flair. It was fortunate to learn that years later Harvey recovered. He again became a fixture at our reunions. As I arrived at the wake, I only wish that as when we were young, more memories were made. The pancit palabok I brought was merely a simple token for everything Harvey shared with me. Farewell, my old friend Harvey. Thank you for all the good times.

“Fly to the Angels Heaven awaits your heart Flowers will bloom in your name You've got to fly (fly high) Fly to the angels All the stars in the night Shine in your name…” - “Fly to the Angels”, Slaughter, 1990