A FEW weeks ago, a high school classmate died. It affected me for a number of reasons. He was not only a classmate, he was a friend. His family said that when he died, he had a smile. That to me was apt because he was someone who always smiled and laughed. He was a jolly person and he always had this smile and I thought what a fitting way to go, with a smile. As one of our classmates said, "I cannot imagine him without his smile." True, we cannot. It was his trademark.
The other reason that his death affected me was that we are old. I cannot imagine our high school class of 1975 as senior citizens. But we are. Whenever I meet my classmates, I can only see how young we were, how brazen we were, how defiant we were. I cannot imagine it otherwise. All of us young and idealistic. All of us proud to the point of arrogant in taking the world. We were invincible.
I guess each high school class has its own traits. Some classes are noisy, others are serious or funny or nonchalant. My class had two things. One is something I cannot print but would like to write about. And the other thing is we have always been a class that does not care but one that cares deeply.
We do not talk so much about feelings yet we care. We do not show our emotions but we take care of each other in our own ways. I guess you need to be part of our class to get that. During the wake, there was the usual banter and the joking and teasing and yet somehow we knew something, felt something which was not expressed openly but expressed nevertheless in teasing and the joking. That is our way perhaps to show what cannot be shown. At least that was how I saw it.
As we grow older, our world tends to become more simple. We do not want the drama anymore. We leave the heroism to others, we discard the concept of success for a good night's sleep and our definition of action on a Saturday night is watching a Bruce Lee film. Our lives, as we grow older is listening to the stars breathing. Our needs are now simple. And the anticipation of what is coming creeps in.
Perhaps, that's the thing. Once we were young, now we are old and death has touched us. We are no longer invincible but mortal. And that is not terrifying, it merely is. The acceptance of what is inevitable is merely a truth.
His name was Joby but we called him Tange because he reminded us of a comedian by that name. In high school masses we always got a kick in singing Silayan because when in came to the part "Sa labi ng imbing kamatayan, Itangi yaring pagmamahal, we would all echo Itangi with "si Tange" and Joby would smile. And we would all laugh.
We will miss Joby.