June 19, 2006

Fiesta sent me a questionnaire over the net and this question struck me:

"When was the last time you cried?"

After reading that, an episode of my life suddenly replayed back in my mind vividly. Of course I can remember when the last time I cried was.

It was June 19, 2006.

That day, I was fying back to Hong Kong and my parents were flying back to Georgia. There was nothing really unusual about these departures. After all, I fly in and out every month and my parents come and go every 6 months. What made this day different was the fact that my parents were flying back with my 2 eldest nephews - Jul and Carl.

After a few months of deliberating, my sister finally allowed the 2 boys to go the the U.S. to study and live there. The days leading to their departure were difficult, especially for Jul who was really close to my sister. When I left the house that day to attend a meeting, everything seemed calm and normal at home, so I figured out that the departure would be bereft of the usual drama.

That evening, I arrived at the NAIA with Mark, only to find out that my flight would be delayed by 2 hours. Meanwhile, a couple of kilometers away, at the NAIA 2, my parents and nephews were checking in as well. I decided to call up my Mom, and she said that they're all settled inside and that my sister went home already. That's when I thought of calling her just to see how she's doing.

Rang home, the maid answered, and I asked if Ate Lissa was home. A few seconds later, my sister was on the other line. I asked her: "How are you?" Then she just broke down.

In between sobs and her quivering voice, two phrases reached out and just crushed my heart:

"My kids are leaving me. Wala na akong magagawa." and "Why do you have to leave? Can't you just stay here first?"

After hearing these words, I, too, broke down.

That moment, I felt that my sister was so helpless, and I was so useless. If I haven't checked in yet, I would have cancelled my flight and rushed home just to hold her hand. Needless to say, I couldn't. So, at the waiting area of NAIA's gate 5, a grown man was sobbing like a little boy. That grown man, of course, was me.

I put down the phone, sat on the bench, and spent the next few minutes with my face buried in my hands while sobbing. It's a good thing that the other passengers were out having dinner that time, so there were only a few witnesses to my crying frenzy.

It took me about 15 minutes to gather my wits and composure. Then, I decided to call my other sister and ask her to check on Ate Lissa occasionally. I dialled her number, the maid answered, and in a few seconds, she was on the line. We had a few minutes of decent conversation then her voice started to break. All it took was that millisecond break, and tears began to roll down my eyes yet again.

So, at the waiting area of NAIA's gate 5, a grown man was again sobbing like a little boy. That grown man, of course, was me.

My other sister and I were crying and conversing on the phone at the same time. At that point, the people in the area must be thinking: "What the hell is that guy's problem? He's just crying, and crying, and crying, and crying." But I guess that's how close my siblings and I are. We are sensitive to each other's pain, and we feel each other's pain.

Earlier, I was telling Ate Lissa if she remembered how painful it was for us to see our parents leave for the U.S. the first time. That pain, multiplied by 5, was probably what her kids were feeling that day they left. And just trying to imagine how much pain they must have felt drove me to tears yet again.

Even in the plane, while I was replaying my sister's voice in my head, I started to cry. This prompted the flight attendant to actually approach me and ask: "Is everything alright, sir?" To which I replied: "I just miss my family." Honestly, I must have cried 5 times that evening. And I reached the flat past midnight, physically and emotionally exhausted.

It's funny, but whenever I tell this story to other people, a few tears still roll down my eyes. And somehow, they sense the same emotions, too. Rona was a bit teary-eyed when I recounted this story to her and Alife. My colleague also had to stop me mid-way into the story because he felt like crying, too. That's how powerful the emotions were. That's how intense the feelings were.

And it was then that I realized how connected my siblings and I are.

I'm actually starting to get teary-eyed while I write this now. I should stop now, lest I change my answer to that question and make it: August 23, 2006.