SOULMATE.
Each one of us has his own definition of the word. Most people define it as someone whom they could share their life with. But for me, it is someone whom you have an intense connection with; connection of minds, unconditional love, total understanding and mutual respect for each other.
A soulmate is someone intended to help you complete yourself.
However you define this word, there is always that someone whom you call your soulmate. For nearly all, it is a significant other. For some, it is a best friend.
Mine was my brother, Lordboy, or Gino to many.
He was a teenager when he stood on his own and pledged to my parents to send me to school — not because my parents could not afford to but because he was just determined to help them and wanted me to become my own person.
Ironically, as a person who did not take his education seriously, he taught me the value of education.
Through juggling his hosting gigs, organizing events and training call center agents, he was able to support me — financially and emotionally — until I graduated college or even until I started earning.
On top of supporting my education, he introduced me to the world, the realities of life and the art of survival and of being independent.
We were a duo. Two peas in a pod. Best of friends. Bonnie and Clyde. We were each other’s protector and shoulder to cry on. Just like in the movie “A Star is Born,” he was the Jackson to my Ally. He pushed me to be the best version of myself.
My day would never be complete without hearing him say, “I love you, Madame!” or reassuring me that everything’s going to be alright in God’s time. Yes, he called me Madame. Every day, he would send me messages just to check on me, asking how my day went or just to annoy me. Other times, when he was not in the mood for texting or chatting, he would call me.
On Aug. 22 this year, everything changed.
He stopped talking to me. He stopped saying “I love you.” He stopped reassuring me that everything was going to be fine.
And it wasn’t because he didn’t want to. This time he couldn’t. He rests in peace, pushing up daisies.
Cause of death: pneumonia, anemia and Sars-CoV-2.
Apparently he had been sick but he just kept it to himself and bore the pain all alone so we would not get worried. That was the kind of person he was: self-sacrificing.
For months of suffering and refusing to go to the hospital because of the pandemic, he showed nothing but his fighting spirit — always reassuring us that he was completely okay and feeling better. Little did we know that behind his enthusiasm and charm were mental and physical torture.
Until one day, he begged us to bring him to the hospital. I processed everything so he could finally get proper medication with high hopes of recovery. The admission process was unusual. Too many tests were taken. We waited for almost six hours before he was brought to his room.
He promised me that he would be fine with a convincing smile on his face and said “thank you” before I went home.
The day after, he called me and said that he was feeling so much better — even when I could hear him catching his breath — and that he felt sorry for what happened and that he loves me and our family so much.
On his second day, I waited for him to text or call but instead, I received a call from his doctor informing me that my brother was in a code red situation.
I could clearly picture the pain my brother went through and it was disheartening. I honestly didn’t know what to do or what to feel. I was completely hopeless at the same time hopeful. I was torn. I reckoned with the thought that miracles do exist because deep inside, I knew, a miracle was the only way for him to bring back to life. I wanted him to stay but the only way for me, for us, to set him free from the pain was to let him go. It was bewildering. We were really on an uphill battle.
On his third day, a miracle happened. He woke up and he was conscious, according to his doctor and nurse. The good news took a load off our chests and lifted our spirits. However, in the afternoon, the doctor called me and said that he was in code red again, until his body and mind gave up.
I didn’t know how to react. My world turned upside down. My heart broke into pieces. My legs were shivering. Breathing was almost an impossible thing to do. I felt like I was in freezing cold of misery while a massive black hole swallowed my soul.
I wanted to question God, the universe but I could not — something inside me was telling me that I should be feeling relieved that he was no longer in agony, that maybe he was fighting so hard for us, not for himself. And that he could finally celebrate his birthday today as I write this, just the way he wanted: to sleep peacefully.
On his last two days here on Earth, he showed me how prayer worked and it made me witness a miracle.
It has been three months since he’s resting in paradise but the pain becomes more unbearable each day. Learning to live again after his passing was impossible. I was on the verge of giving up but I was reminded by his love and of the promises we made for each other.
In this valley of grief, I somehow found a new respect for life. His absence may forever break my heart into pieces and crush my soul but it taught me to live, love and laugh more. It taught me to take more risks, to kill people with kindness, to accept things I couldn’t change and to open myself up to all possibilities that the world has to offer.
Here’s to all who have lost a loved one: there might be nothing in this world that can take away the aching sadness, or fill the void, but learn to work through your pain and find your inner strength from within. While grief stays with us, but so does love and life. Grief is born out of love. Allow this love to fill you up and take it with you, wherever your path may lead.
I would like to share with you this message from a mass card I coincidentally bought that speaks volumes and made me fathom the idea of death, which I’d like to believe my brother wrote for us:
“Don’t grieve on me, for now I’m free. I’m following the path God laid for me. I took His hand when I heard Him call, I turned my back and left it all.
“I could not stay another day. To laugh, to love, to work or play. Tasks left undone must stay that way, I found that place at the close of the day. If my parting has left a void. Then fill it with remember joy. A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss. Ah yes, these things, I too, will miss. Be not burned with times of sorrow, I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow. My life’s been full, I savored much. Good friends, good times, a loved one’s touch. Perhaps my time seemed all too brief. Don’t lengthen it now with undue grief. Lift up your heart and share with me. God wanted me now, He set me free.”