Hope for the PGC
I went to a wake last night to show my condolences to a grieving college tropa whose dad passed away because of a heart attack some weeks ago. His dad was an OFW in the Middle East for almost two decades and was about to retire shortly before this tragic event happened. Since my tropa immediately succeeds his dad in becoming the new breadwinner of the house, I understand that he will need to draw his strength from us, being his only true barkada after graduating from college five years ago. So the moment we learned that his father's remains had already arrived, we immediately mobilized ourselves to show our support on the first day of his father's wake.
We arrived at Pateros shortly before midnight. We thought that the lamay had already started at a nearby funeral home. (the cemetery is just across their backyard) However, what greeted us the moment the tricycle arrived at my tropa's place was a sleeping household, with only our friend awake waiting for our arrival.
It turns out that since his father died in a foreign country. His remains were frozen while the papers were being processed for his long sad journey back to his waiting family. The paper processing alone took almost two weeks. Therefore, when his father's casket arrived yesterday afternoon from the airport, the morticians had to thaw his remains first before they could start the embalming process.
That's why there was no lamay to attend to when we arrived at our tropa's place.
So instead, the wake became a sort of reunion among the four of us. We mostly talked about our careers, our former schoolmates - particularly the girls who were linked to us during those times, the sexy controversial chicks from our college that saved us from boredom whenever we can't find any topic to talk about, and the highlights of our last class reunion (particularly the open forum session, which they find very disturbing after a girl classmate they used to admire was grilled because of a previous affair with her boss.) We all agreed that the next time somebody calls for reunion, our tropa might not attend the event out of fear that such open forum may take place again.
After an hour, another tropa followed. He was the one who got secretly married last year (which the three of us attended). Among the six of us, he's the one who rarely shows up when a barkada calls for a reunion. However since his presence was urgently needed last night, he decided to show up even if it means leaving his wife and kid sleeping alone in their apartment. "Maiintindihan naman ni misis eh," he jokingly said while pouncing at my back.
Since my other two companions haven't eaten their dinner yet, our host suggested that we go out to have a late night meal at a Tapsilogan near his place. Driving his Highlander, we sneaked out to go to this eatery which he claims to serve the best Tapsilog he ever tasted. Indeed, the Tapsilog was amazing, but what made our meal really good is that it was for free - our host paid our bill.
So we returned home, satisfied with our dinner. The guys resumed their endless talking while I just listened - with my eyes half-closed. They complained that I'm not participating - the guy who serves our tropa leader insisted that I should share some things happening in my life. But I wasn't really in the mood to talk so I just told them that I'm very sleepy and prefers to just listen instead. Besides I don't have anything to share that will interest them. Therefore, to fill up for my stubborn silence, they just talked about me and my stupid antics back at UST.
---
The truth is, I am quiet because there's a huge part of me that doesn't want to talk. After all, could they afford to know that one of their barkada who once joined them in their juvenile casa adventure in Bulacan would become a homo after a few years? Would they understand the heaven and hell that I've been through when all they did was to focus on theirs studies and work, while all I did was "soul searching?"
When asked by my other college friends as to why I won't reveal myself to my own group even if they'd surely accept me, I tell them that I won't risk losing my last remaining connection to the straight world. I'd rather let them see the old Joms, which is not really different from the new one - except for the sexual preference.
As we continued our late-night conversation, a topic was brought up about the closet guys they know in college like our Department Coordinator. A tropa said that he knew way before that there's something different in the way our coordinator acts and speaks, however, since he presented himself professionally, (unlike a professor in our Rizal Studies, who was rumored to hang-out in Ali Mall after his lectures) my tropa's respect for him never faltered. He even went further by saying that his principle in life has always been "to live and let live." If a person is different, so long as he acts decorously, it would never be an issue for him.
I don't know if what he said was an indirect reference to me. But if it is, then he just gave me the assurance that no matter how I turned up, he would always be my barkada. I've always known that the rumor about my sexuality has reached them already, but since I won't open up to them, they just do it in passing. His surprising assurance - considering that he was known to be a chauvinist homophobe back in college finally raises some hopes that I might probably keep my straight peers while living an un-straight life. A few years back, I never imagined that it could be remotely possible.
---
It was already past three and my companions were still talking about our growling Tigers and how they managed to beat the Eagles last year at UAAP. Their endless conversation could have go on - moving from one topic to another, if they didn't see me sleeping in one corner. A tropa suggested that we should catch some sleep, since some of them were already up in the morning. So the host laid the carpet and sheets where the four of them would sleep together.
If not for my work, I will stay until the casket is ready for viewing. Realizing that I could become a hassle by announcing my departure at the middle of their sleep, I decided to leave just when they were about to hit the sack instead. Of course, some of them protested. One even told me that "mag-absent na lang ako," since we rarely see each other. But I told them that my work load will be heavy today and I will need to use my VLs after Holy Week. They allowed me to go eventually without any more delays.
The reunion only shows how our overlapping lives continue to touch one another. A downfall of one, would mean the rescuing and lifting of others. Even before, when it was my turn to mourn, our tropa leader showed up at the funeral home the very night my dad's remains arrived from the hospital, offering his condolences personally and assurances that the barkada will be there to support me.
Three years ago, they used to call for an annual get-together so that we could see each other even once every year. Before, the very moment I received their invitation, I already had an excuse just not to be able to show up. My reasons then were born out of my need to get back at them and start a new life after they made my years in Journalism a difficult one. There were times before that I was so ready to forget everything, but our leader was determined to keep the barkadahan intact even if we have our own lives already.
One time, his determination moved me after I received a Christmas Postcard sent from Shanghai. It was from my him wishing me a great holiday. Considering how stiff and stoic he was back in college, such act of mushiness was unheard of. From that day forward, I vowed to show up whenever somebody calls for a reunion. Since then, I never missed any of our gatherings again.
The interment of my tropa's dad would be on Tuesday. I told them that I may not be able to show up because my work ends later that afternoon. It may take many more months before we would see each other again, since we're expecting that our tropa would sink into a long grieving period after his dad has been laid to rest. Nevertheless, after our show of support last night, I believe that we are meant to stick together for life
- even if we now live lives very different from what we were used to when we first formed the barkada by accident, to address a group project back in college.
I went to a wake last night to show my condolences to a grieving college tropa whose dad passed away because of a heart attack some weeks ago. His dad was an OFW in the Middle East for almost two decades and was about to retire shortly before this tragic event happened. Since my tropa immediately succeeds his dad in becoming the new breadwinner of the house, I understand that he will need to draw his strength from us, being his only true barkada after graduating from college five years ago. So the moment we learned that his father's remains had already arrived, we immediately mobilized ourselves to show our support on the first day of his father's wake.
We arrived at Pateros shortly before midnight. We thought that the lamay had already started at a nearby funeral home. (the cemetery is just across their backyard) However, what greeted us the moment the tricycle arrived at my tropa's place was a sleeping household, with only our friend awake waiting for our arrival.
It turns out that since his father died in a foreign country. His remains were frozen while the papers were being processed for his long sad journey back to his waiting family. The paper processing alone took almost two weeks. Therefore, when his father's casket arrived yesterday afternoon from the airport, the morticians had to thaw his remains first before they could start the embalming process.
That's why there was no lamay to attend to when we arrived at our tropa's place.
So instead, the wake became a sort of reunion among the four of us. We mostly talked about our careers, our former schoolmates - particularly the girls who were linked to us during those times, the sexy controversial chicks from our college that saved us from boredom whenever we can't find any topic to talk about, and the highlights of our last class reunion (particularly the open forum session, which they find very disturbing after a girl classmate they used to admire was grilled because of a previous affair with her boss.) We all agreed that the next time somebody calls for reunion, our tropa might not attend the event out of fear that such open forum may take place again.
After an hour, another tropa followed. He was the one who got secretly married last year (which the three of us attended). Among the six of us, he's the one who rarely shows up when a barkada calls for a reunion. However since his presence was urgently needed last night, he decided to show up even if it means leaving his wife and kid sleeping alone in their apartment. "Maiintindihan naman ni misis eh," he jokingly said while pouncing at my back.
Since my other two companions haven't eaten their dinner yet, our host suggested that we go out to have a late night meal at a Tapsilogan near his place. Driving his Highlander, we sneaked out to go to this eatery which he claims to serve the best Tapsilog he ever tasted. Indeed, the Tapsilog was amazing, but what made our meal really good is that it was for free - our host paid our bill.
So we returned home, satisfied with our dinner. The guys resumed their endless talking while I just listened - with my eyes half-closed. They complained that I'm not participating - the guy who serves our tropa leader insisted that I should share some things happening in my life. But I wasn't really in the mood to talk so I just told them that I'm very sleepy and prefers to just listen instead. Besides I don't have anything to share that will interest them. Therefore, to fill up for my stubborn silence, they just talked about me and my stupid antics back at UST.
---
The truth is, I am quiet because there's a huge part of me that doesn't want to talk. After all, could they afford to know that one of their barkada who once joined them in their juvenile casa adventure in Bulacan would become a homo after a few years? Would they understand the heaven and hell that I've been through when all they did was to focus on theirs studies and work, while all I did was "soul searching?"
When asked by my other college friends as to why I won't reveal myself to my own group even if they'd surely accept me, I tell them that I won't risk losing my last remaining connection to the straight world. I'd rather let them see the old Joms, which is not really different from the new one - except for the sexual preference.
As we continued our late-night conversation, a topic was brought up about the closet guys they know in college like our Department Coordinator. A tropa said that he knew way before that there's something different in the way our coordinator acts and speaks, however, since he presented himself professionally, (unlike a professor in our Rizal Studies, who was rumored to hang-out in Ali Mall after his lectures) my tropa's respect for him never faltered. He even went further by saying that his principle in life has always been "to live and let live." If a person is different, so long as he acts decorously, it would never be an issue for him.
I don't know if what he said was an indirect reference to me. But if it is, then he just gave me the assurance that no matter how I turned up, he would always be my barkada. I've always known that the rumor about my sexuality has reached them already, but since I won't open up to them, they just do it in passing. His surprising assurance - considering that he was known to be a chauvinist homophobe back in college finally raises some hopes that I might probably keep my straight peers while living an un-straight life. A few years back, I never imagined that it could be remotely possible.
---
It was already past three and my companions were still talking about our growling Tigers and how they managed to beat the Eagles last year at UAAP. Their endless conversation could have go on - moving from one topic to another, if they didn't see me sleeping in one corner. A tropa suggested that we should catch some sleep, since some of them were already up in the morning. So the host laid the carpet and sheets where the four of them would sleep together.
If not for my work, I will stay until the casket is ready for viewing. Realizing that I could become a hassle by announcing my departure at the middle of their sleep, I decided to leave just when they were about to hit the sack instead. Of course, some of them protested. One even told me that "mag-absent na lang ako," since we rarely see each other. But I told them that my work load will be heavy today and I will need to use my VLs after Holy Week. They allowed me to go eventually without any more delays.
The reunion only shows how our overlapping lives continue to touch one another. A downfall of one, would mean the rescuing and lifting of others. Even before, when it was my turn to mourn, our tropa leader showed up at the funeral home the very night my dad's remains arrived from the hospital, offering his condolences personally and assurances that the barkada will be there to support me.
Three years ago, they used to call for an annual get-together so that we could see each other even once every year. Before, the very moment I received their invitation, I already had an excuse just not to be able to show up. My reasons then were born out of my need to get back at them and start a new life after they made my years in Journalism a difficult one. There were times before that I was so ready to forget everything, but our leader was determined to keep the barkadahan intact even if we have our own lives already.
One time, his determination moved me after I received a Christmas Postcard sent from Shanghai. It was from my him wishing me a great holiday. Considering how stiff and stoic he was back in college, such act of mushiness was unheard of. From that day forward, I vowed to show up whenever somebody calls for a reunion. Since then, I never missed any of our gatherings again.
The interment of my tropa's dad would be on Tuesday. I told them that I may not be able to show up because my work ends later that afternoon. It may take many more months before we would see each other again, since we're expecting that our tropa would sink into a long grieving period after his dad has been laid to rest. Nevertheless, after our show of support last night, I believe that we are meant to stick together for life
- even if we now live lives very different from what we were used to when we first formed the barkada by accident, to address a group project back in college.
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