Friday, April 09, 2021

Eulogy for Harry Kit

 

“You may be laughing on the outside. But inside, you’re crying.”

Harry wrote that line in a card he gave to me. I somehow remember it was a Christmas card. Or was it a birthday card? Doesn’t matter now, really. The year was probably 1985. We were in sixth grade, and back then every so often, us friends would hand out cards to one another just because. And since I received that card, I never forgot that line. And though ough thI could not remember exactly what occasion the card was for, ever since I read it, that line meant the world to me.

I was going through a rough patch at the time. It was some two years after that one quiet night, when we suddenly realized we were driving my mom to the airport, then only to be heard from again very very sporadically for the next six to seven years. I still remember Barry Manilow crooning “Memory” on the radio, while we were being driven back home from the airport.  I also remember the car window with streaming scenes of empty late night streets lined with warmly lit lampposts inter-changing with the image of my mom’s eyeliner running down her cheeks, while she handed me a bit of money for my upcoming birthday and saying goodbye. The realities and details about her life away from us were a hazy, indistinct impressionist painting probably done by a drunken Monet. They still are.

While in school, sometime between episodes of playing the class clown, there was at least one incident when out of nowhere, and for no apparent reason or trigger, my then twelve or thirteen year-old self had my face in my knees shaking in tears.

When Harry sent me that card, I knew at least that someone saw. That someone knew. Someone understood, and was not coy about letting me know. Harry had always been a friend for laughs and games. But at that tender age, that card, that line, told me he was going to be a proverbial shoulder I would always know I could lean on.

And i did so on and off for almost four decades.

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So this is how it feels to lose an old friend.

I had seen many people in the generation prior to mine losing friends. My dad in particular lost his best friend last 2007. But that guy my dad met much much later in his life compared to mine. My dad was probably in his very late thirties by then. But Harry, Dick, me, and the rest of the guys met when we were all of ten to eleven years old. At a time when the world was a simpler, kinder, and more innocent place. At a time when we didn’t know better. But we knew the rules to cops and robbers, other games, TV shows, and that was enough.

One time, while walking through a mall, Harry, Dick, and I saw three old men animatedly chattering over a fastfood table. Dick pointed at them and half-jokingly said: "Guys, i see our future..."

"If we're lucky," I laughingly said. "And that would not be a bad way to grow old"

I guess now we will be imagining that future with one less old man animatedly chattering away.

I am wondering now how our friendly gatherings will feel, knowing that there is an absence that will never again be filled, a place at the table that will ever remain vacant, one glass that will no longer be raised in a toast. One less chuckle at a bad old joke, one less playful push when we slap each other from laughter, one less smile in our photographs. We will let the void remain in his honor. At our age now, friends like Harry will never be found again.

But those imaginary gatherings will have to wait. These circumstances now are so sad and different. We could not get together to properly send Harry off, to celebrate his life. We are now left trading shallow jokes and old stories about Harry in a cold impersonal internet chat room to comfort ourselves, and somehow honor him in our own irreverent way.

His devoted wife, Cynthia is currently in quarantine, and Harry himself is still frozen in the hospital morgue while waiting his turn in what seems to be an endless line to the crematory.

Damn this virus.

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Harry will always be to me the sensible guy. Funny, but practical. Always had an eye out for a better deal. He had to grow up before the rest of us did. And maybe because of certain circumstances in his younger life, he seemed to be on edge, but not snappy. At least never to us his friends, his brothers.

If Boss Kit, as we had come to affectionately call him these past few years, felt like giving serious advice, it always made sense because he always thought things through. And if you really listened, you will see that he was right.

He always kept on about wanting to leave more behind for his family. Only now do I realize that those friendly rants and laments of his now seem morbidly, sadly, and almost eerily prescient. But Harry and Cynthia raised two amazing kids. We practically saw them grow up right before our eyes, and one of them even worked with me. Now grown-up kids who have taken good care of themselves, and have always revered their parents. I have always told him that the ultimate sign of success of a person, of a parent, is measured by their children. And by that measure, he was a champion. And while he never felt that he would leave enough for his children, the children he did leave behind is an inheritance and legacy to the world with a value that will only grow as time goes on.

He also left behind a loving wife, who is thankfully stronger than people give her credit for. Wherever Harry is now, we know that he has nothing to worry about at all. Ultimately, he left more than enough.

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“You may be laughing on the outside. But inside, you’re crying.”

Boss Kit, those words above which you sent almost four decades ago rang so true then. And now, with you leaving us all so prematurely, permanently, they ring true once more. So should the guys get together again hopefully sooner than later, we will properly celebrate you, our friendship, our brotherhood. We will share old jokes, and even older stories of you. And we will laugh and cheer in your memory.

And as we remember you, we will be laughing on the outside, but inside, every so often, we will also be crying.

You will be missed, brother. Godspeed.


Harry Kit

January 6, 1973 ~ April 7, 2021 



Sunday, August 16, 2020

Letters to Marge & Maddie: Chapter 54 (Hello from my quiet little corner...)

 

Hi, guys.

As I begin writing this now, August 16, 2020, I mark the 17th night that I am alone here at our house in Baguio.

Hello, Maddie. At this point, Mommy actually already told Achie Marge lots of grown-up things about the family. Sorry, but there’s a huge difference about what you will get or understand between 7 years old and 12. So eventually, you will be told the stories, too.

So yes, I am up here, and you guys are down there. And I am kind of sad, kind of lonely. But trying to be as happily distracted as possible. Right now, Im toggling between a nice sci-fi movie called Arrival, and little knick knacks I find on Youtube, from nice saxophone videos, to a few videos of a local singer named Morissette Amon. By the time you read this, I’m not sure whether or not she will still be making music. But thank heavens for the internet, her performances should still be accessible one way or another. You guys should check her out. By now, you guys have prayed with me on video call, said good night, and hopefully drifting off in some nice colorful dreams. Your mom just sent me screenshots of her and her friends on a video group chat.

I meant to write about far more interesting things tonight like life, and how we perceive its length, its value and some such. The movie Arrival sort of tackles that, too. Which is why I stopped watching, and starting writing this entry. And then I proceeded to search about average life spans of animals. Hoping to find some connection between how lives can be meaningful regardless of how long or how short. Like how butterflies generally live an average of two weeks.

No. Thankfully, no one in our little family is dying right now. At least not that we know of. But I just found myself thinking about it. Partly because of the movie I started (which I’ve seen numerous times before), and because of all the crazy stuff happening in the world right now.

So many people getting sick and dying. Yes, many due to Covid-19, and others probably due to complications aggravated by isolation, lack of access to fresh air and sunlight, or probably dozens and maybe even hundreds of other factors. So many businesses struggling, or simply just closing down. So many things that make us human getting lost on the waysides, because of the struggle of mankind at large to simply survive.

This year, 2020 was supposed to be another great one for our family. We had a trip to Spain booked and all, supposedly a trip to Bali with the rest of the extended family, your mom and I had our 20th anniversary trip to Japan also booked, and those were just the international trips. Who only knows what else we could have come up with?

Achie also had her grade school graduation first postponed, then ultimately cancelled and moved into some group chat affair. Mommy wanted to make more food ideas to sell, Shobe was going to study more violin and ballet, and so many other things for all of us.

But… well, pretty much all the world’s plans all got put on hold.

Anyway, I will need to post this before I ramble on too much further and end up totally failing to put this up at all.

’catch you later.

Love,

Dad

Sunday, July 19, 2020

A Letter to Future Marge and Future Maddie: Chapter 53 (071920)

Hello, Future Marge and Future Maddie,

We are writing this here together, 12-year old Marge and I, while Maddie sits in a corner watching Youtube. It's 4:36PM, Mommy is taking a nap inside your bedroom. All snuggled up. Marge is beside me here using an ipad to trace over an old photo of me and Maddie taking a selfie from 2013.

Marge will send it to me and i will share it here as a work in progress.

Maddie is now here cuddling up. i am now in the middle of your two younger selves. But now Maddie has decided to run down to the kitchen to get some chips.

It is a nice quiet Sunday. We spent the morning walking and playing amongst trees in John Hay, then ordered chicken from Jollibee while on the picnic table.

Wait, now we are heading out to the garden for a garden picnic, and some board games.

'catch you later.

Love,

Dad

Saturday, August 31, 2019

Letters to Marge & Maddie: Chapter 52 (Log of a strangely packed past few weeks that feel like a blur...)

Dear Marge & Maddie,

Hey hey hey... Welcome back.
i'm just here to put down what has been a very very tiring past few weeks.

Let's start with one's name suddenly being all over the news starting sometime in early August of 2019.
This was followed in a few days by the results of your grandmother's MRI coming out (tests dated August 1), and the rest of the family finally realizing in plain black and white that your grandmother's brain really is starting to show its age a little sooner than most.

This was followed a rather muted advance celebration of Ah-ma Mia's birthday on August 3rd, because most grandchildren still had school the week after. Thus, a Saturday celebration was decided upon to allow you grandkids to be up in Baguio with our birthday girl.

More tests were required cum August 5, which was also the day that the term "vascular dementia" entered the family's vocabulary on a much more regular basis, as delivered by one of the city's most senior neurologists, Dr. Hernandez. Daddy drives up a day or two sooner than scheduled.

This was followed by regular and very frequent visits to the hospital where Ah-ma Mia was confined in. She was thankfully discharged on August 7. Giving her a little over a day to enjoy a restaurant dinner on her birthday proper.

Daddy finally drives down to Manila on Tuesday, August 13. Only to suddenly be told that he, along with the rest of the family need to appear in the prosecutor's office on Friday, August 15. But he has confirmed attendance for the surprised birthday party of your Uncle (and godfather) JJ (Johnny Yap), organized by your Uncle (and godfather) Jepet, which was to occur on the evening of August 15. Nonetheless, off to Baguio daddy went on Thursday (August 14) evening almost immediately after dinner with you guys. Then swooped back down to Manila right after appearing in court (sort of), making it in time for the birthday party at around 930pm or so.

Daddy also had to attend the homecoming event of St. Peter the Apostle School, which expelled him last 1988. He attended, because he promised to finally see the one teacher who objected (in vain) to his expulsion. That being done, daddy left the homecoming with mommy. Then lo and behold, we were told that around 30 minutes after mommy and daddy left the event, the performing band's guitarist, Whiz Francis Reyes, who is one of daddy's happy acquaintances, apparently called our daddy's name on the mic, probably to invite him to jam on stage with the Dawn, one of the best bands of our era (and still is). i still have mixed feeling about missing that opportunity. On one hand, it would have been fun, and i'm confident enough with my music that many in the audience would have probably turned incredulously towards to stage wondering if i was lip-synching. Somehow, i believe i probably would not have turned the invitation down. Plus, it was in poor taste to refuse a fellow musician a jam. Especially someone of Francis Reyes's pedigree. On the other hand however, if i did go up on stage, people at the event might have accused me of being such a limelight hog. (Yes, you know who you are...)

Then Sunday, August 18  late morning was also the party of your cousin Pia, Thankfully, that party ended rather earlier than usual.

Daddy spending August 19 and 20 at the Ortigas office, then promptly drives back up to Baguio on the evening of the 20th. Only to be informed on the afternoon of the very next day by your Uncle (and godfather) Dominic that his dad had passed away a couple of hours before he messaged you. So daddy and your Uncle (and godfather) Dick discussed meeting up at the wake on Saturday, August 24 along with some of your other godfathers (namely Uncle Bogs, and Uncle Manly). So daddy, who was scheduled to drive back to Manila on Tuesday, August 27th, found himself driving down much sooner on morning of August 24th. But a few things had to be arranged and regarded back in Baguio, which found daddy back behind the wheel on Sunday morning (August 25th), with plans of driving back down on Tuesday noon. Hopefully, giving him time to spend dinner and chat with you and mommy. And in time to direct the first day of the photo shoot of Festival Mall, one of daddy's ad agency clients.

Interlude:
Your Uncle Philip has hatched a plan to quickly bring Ah-ma Mia to Taiwan to see a chiropractor, and probably a few other doctors. After everyone supposedly being gung-ho about it at first, we discover the following: Uncle Wilson's passport is currently at the Japanese embassy for visa processing. Thus, he will not be able to get the passport back in time for accompany Ah-ma Mia. Uncle Pom at first said, yes. Then again demurred. Which leaves daddy as the only son, who has not backed out (or is able) to accompany Ah-ma Mia. So off Uncle Philip goes booking tickets for Sunday, September 1, with a return flight on Wednesday the 4th.

Back to the story...
But while was getting ready to drive down on Tuesday noon (August 27th), he was then told that the family had to appear in court again the next day, Wednesday, August 28th. Oops, that crosses out the directing gig on Wednesday.
But that's just one day. So perhaps 2 out of 3 shooting days wont be so bad. So daddy drives down on the afternoon of the 28th, immediately after appearing in court.

Thursday, August 29th. Day 2 of the photo shoot that daddy is supposed to be directing. He wakes up early, getting ready to greet your Ah-ma Mia in Manila, because she has a dental appointment. And so daddy does. He greets Ah-ma Mia, then leaves her in mommy's able hands. Daddy now drives himself out to far-off Alabang, because Kuya Edgar was to be left behind to fetch you guys to and from school, as well as other possible things you guys needed to attend.

Then, after shooting one scene, Daddy checks his phone. Mommy, who had Ah-ma Mia in her care, sent this: CALL URGENT. The message was almost half an hour ago. Holeeee.... Daddy calls, only to learn that Ah-ma Mia almost literally shoveled her late lunch into her mouth like there was no tomorrow, and found herself in some strange case of food shock (also uspected by doctors as symptomatic of the precursors of minor strokes, which Ah-ma Mia's have shown that she was apparently suffered from a couple of times past). She was taken to the Emergency Room for more tests and MRI scans. And that Daddy now has to bail from the shoot (again) because he was the only son in Manila, and must check on Ah-ma Mia. So daddy is back on the road. Two and a half hours later, Ah-Mia was in the house (ours), and refusing to stay for more tests, much less treatment.

A full day's shoot happened at Festival Mall without much event last August 30.


Saturday, August 31, saw us heading out to the Powerplant Mall in Rockwell Makati, where we met up with your Uncle Dominic. And it is now 2am, September 1, and i am flying out in around 16 hours.


So how was that up there, huh?
Still breathing? i know i barely am sometimes.
Uncle Dominic is the tall guy in white with the puffy face.

'Catch you later.

Love,



Dad

Friday, December 28, 2018

Letters to Marge & Maddie: Chapter 51 (Let Your Old Man Vent a Little This Year’s End)


The age of forty five is a strange one. Of course, any year can and will seem strange if one chooses to see it as such. It is not my birthday. But the past year saw me hit the 45 mark. So nonetheless, kindly indulge me.
The creeping reality that has begun haunting me is that even the most reasonably healthy people usually live up to "only" their early 90s. And that is being quite generous. Even Iceland, which boasts the highest average life expectancy, clocks in an average of 87 years of age.

So yes, this is as midlife as midlife can get. And maybe even a little past that.

This is where one finds one's self at the proverbial tipping point, where the arrow of one's emotions invariably toggle to and fro between a sense of contentment and accomplishment at having gotten this far, whether by luck, birthright, or both, to a swirling haze of frustration, regret, and melancholy. Brought about also by some random concoction of luck, circumstance, and probably more than a handful of decisions i would have decided differently if i knew then what i know now.

Or maybe not.

While there is the knowledge in the back of one's head that sooner than later, it would be time to start winding one's personal party down bit by bit, that is not what weighs down upon me. I miss the innocence. I miss the dreams that once seemed so easily reachable. I miss the brashness and optimism of my youth. I miss the promise of possibility simply because i was still too ignorant to know what lay ahead.

I remember an old cartoon short that featured Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd. The latter was led out running over the edge of a cliff, but somehow did not fall down. Bugs warns Elmer of his pending doom by pointing down, and simply saying: "Gravity." To which Elmer just waves it off, while nonchalantly stating that he "hasn't studied gwavity yet."

Knowledge does weigh upon one's dreams. The more you know, the more real things become, along with all the trappings that come with it. And thus, one grows up. And every morning is a wake up call to a reality we sometimes wish we can just sleep through.

I miss not feeling weary from my failures, thinking foolishly that the best is yet to come, because... i was still young. But i live still, and the things i am working in and on still live. Some barely, some quite well. Again sometimes because of luck, circumstance, and whatever came of decisions made. Whichever way, they are what they are now, and tomorrow is still another day.

But i am thankful. I am thankful for a life lived with a heart tempered by time, made stronger by scars, and most importantly, a heart now unafraid to bleed for those he wants to bleed for.

I am thankful, because the proverbial glass has been half-full with many good things. And while many dreams remain half-baked, the oven is thankfully still warm. So we keep baking.

I am thankful for friends near and far. You will be, too. But make sure you make time for them, just like they too will make time for you. Sometimes when you need them the most.

I am thankful for our larger extended family, no matter how imperfect. When they are at their worst, they fuel me. When they are at their best, they make me believe in human redemption, and why dogs will always be one of the best judges of character.

I am thankful, because i sit here tonight, quietly typing away at this piece over a week after i've gotten started at it. Thankful for this evening, which gave me time with you guys and your mom. Thankful for all the laughter tonight. The music we played on Marge's violin. The tunes Maddie screamed out to the iPad just to see the voice indicator move. The songs and passages i have been blaring out on my saxophones.

I am thankful that i can glance at you three sleeping soundly all snuggled up, while i listen to your dreaming murmurs.

Yes, this is as midlife as midlife can get.
And i am here with you.


So despite of the things going on that seem to be hanging by a thread, despite the personalities and politics that surround my life, despite all the things i wish i am and am not, and still wish i will be, and all the things i have done and have not...

I am thankful.
And after tomorrow, it will be another year.
Happy New Year.


'Catch you later.

Love,

Dad

Monday, December 17, 2018

Letters to Marge & Maddie: Chapter 50 (2018 Has Been a Most Musical Year)

Greetings, girls.

My oh my, how you both have grown!
Like i said in the title of this entry, 2018 has been a most musical year for us all.

Sometime earlier this year, Maddie was found running off to the piano on her own, and pounding away vigorously. Marge continues her violins lessons, while somehow already tinkering melodies on the piano that she has learned by ear alone.

We are not prodigies, sadly. But the love of music is evident, and as imperfect as it is, it shines bright in our home.

And i am filled with joy in anticipation of what you two will bring soon.

'Catch you guys later.

Love,

Dad