Three years ago, on this day, I was excited for my first day of internship in a rehab hospital in Quezon City. There were lots of firsts on that time: first time to be with clinicians, to handle patients, be with PT students coming from other schools. First time to practice what we've learned for the past 4 years, to handle actual patients. I was really enthusiastic at that time, ready to try different stuffs on the patient. And it was also my first time to celebrate my birthday at "work".
It wasn't really a big deal. I'm celebrating my birthday anyway. Most of the time, I just hear a mass and the day is nothing but regular.
For over three years, my list of "first's" continued to lengthen: out-of-the-country trip (which is my first plane ride also), Disneyland, vote on a national election, try slide-for-life, job interview, pay slip, photoshoot, fire a gun, write a blog, and visit foreign places. Worth noting was also the first time I paid the bills at home. Of all experiences, the most challenging would be rappelling that 120-ft mountain ridge in Tarlac and the best would be my first interview on live TV. And my camera would be the best thing I ever had.
Of course, not all would be good. I also had my first experience of losing my phone, seeing corruption right in front of me, note experiencing Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve with my family and moving out from home. It was so depressing. Really.
In just 2 days, I'll be gaining another year. And my passion for "firsts" is just starting.
Thank you for these years.
My uncle passed away today.
He wasn't the best uncle. All my life, I never really felt he's one.
He wasn't the best brother to my mom. I remember my mother narrating how my uncle (her eldest brother) would physically hurt him whenever she was caught with a man back in her teenage years. My mother almost literally sustained him and his family, giving him money when he has none and paying for all his hospital bills because he didn't have any savings of his own. This uncle of mine sold our small business then, the business my parents worked hard for, all for his good.
He wasn't the best son to my lola. He hurt my lola so many times with his rude words and behavior. He even asked my lola to leave HER own house after some misunderstanding, that's why she's lived with us from then on.
He wasn't the best husband and father. He went abroad when his kids were still young and never came back as a father for them. He had a daughter with another woman and his legit family had to live their lives without him. My legit cousins had to stop school and start working to support themselves.
I hated him for not being a good man. When I knew he was nearing his time, I wasn't really struck and just accepted it casually.
But when I saw him already lifeless, it hit me. It pierced my heart bull's eye. Nothing really matters now but my uncle, a brother so loved by my mom, a son so treasured by my lola, my uncle who is part of my family.
RIP, Kaka. I pray you find your peace.