Days of Age

My father logged out his facebook account and fell silent for awhile before he left the  computer table. He stood like he is still 35, far from what he looked like 18 months ago after he had his operation. Cancer. I’ve witnessed my friends, mentors, and my ‘lolos’ being devoured away by this disease ..after which, they cease to exist. Just when you thought you could still have the chance to talk to them..awan dan met gayamen. The absurdity of life is often reminded to you by the simplest pondering of everyday. Tonight, I saw a man who can still live for another 20 years.

My father proceeded to watch the evening news while I start to cook our dinner. My sister is already married and my mom is away from home about 3 years now, so naturally, “karne” nga kanayon ti maluto for us 3 guys . My brother is not yet home, I bet he’s on a night out – on a bar having his gig. I thought he could turn pro if only he can change some of his ‘rock and roll’ attitude, but then, he is rock and roll - just like me 6 years ago.

“Mangan.” (Eat) I called out, and prepared  our plates. I remembered that when I was in my first year college in my rebellious years, I had broken plates and glasses, after the occasional shouting and the screaming – ironically, I hated my father for his unmanaged anger on even the most mundane things, and often quarreled with my siblings because of reasons that I seemed to have forgotten. Tonight, there was only silence. “Kasano eskwela?”… “Ada bagsak ko ya…” I bowed to avoid his gaze. But he did not look at me, “istimarem ah nu next”  he said without any emotion at all. My typical dad. Back in college, even with the inviting explosion of demand for nurses, I took up “other” courses and shifted thrice – accountancy to political science to philosophy and finally to English literature, because it’s the easiest to pass…honestly. My undergraduate life was a joke, or shall I call it “rock and roll”. “Wen.” I said. I must have said that word a thousand times only to break them.

I finished my meal earlier and paced to the computer table. I thought I will just check my facebook for 5 minutes but I knew that ‘that’ will not happen – 5 minutes will turn to 1 hour to 2 hours to 5 hours. I suspect that FB is the reason why I failed the subjects. It’s really hard for a 23 year old guy, in a post graduate course who is, at the same time working, not to crave for a little bit of diversion or entertainment…in this case, Facebook (and occasional parties of course). “Single and ready to mingle”, I recalled while scrolling down on my FB status. And after a while, it caught my eye, I saw a link which my father posted and I saw a sign of a middle age crisis. It was a picture of a man with a quote which says:

“First I was dying to finish high-school and start college. Then I was dying to finish college and start working. Next, I was dying for my children to grow old enough for school, so I could return to work. Finally, I was dying to retire. And now, I am dying and I realize I forgot to live..”

My father, a 50 year old man who has yet to see his grandchildren, is evidently absorbed in a melancholic crisis of growing old. When I was in college, I fiercely debate for existentialism and even brand faith, the arts, and even entertainment as weaknesses to exist. I took the arrogance of sounding smart but now that I have succumbed to it, I realized that I have to live and pass through time, one year after another, to understand the ideas and feelings of the old and of course, the reason why they always tell me that I am  "too young".

In this life, the old is reminded by their impending demise when they see the young and see themselves in them. However, for us who are young today, soon, our skin will get wrinkled, our sight and hearing will get weaker, our body will be more fragile..,it will be a battle against time and disease, of this mortal age.,and soon we leave our names and possessions in our grave--not a professional, or a  doctor, a lawyer, or a wealthy man..but a decaying corpse. We, the young, shall also be reminded to take things slowly before we die.

So what is the meaning of life if this is how absurd it is? Is it in our own adventure or journey that will give us the answers? Perhaps.

With that conviction, we must move on from those questions to find answers..moving on even from regrets, from those mistakes.,and accepting that we are not any bigger than life itself. Perhaps, it is only then that we can understand…or perhaps, I can only put some words in this note to give me peace of mind.

(My father died about 7 months after I wrote this)