My favorite uncle died on December 25 (US time). So, technically, that will be today.
While it’s been a while–it’s still hard for me. I think–aside from his mom and his family back in the States–I was the one who took it the hardest.
You see, my uncle spent the best years of his life in the US providing and helping his family here in the Philippines–his brothers, his sisters, his gazillions of nieces and nephews and cousins and all that Pinoy mentality of extended family shit. I was young then and I’ve seen how selfless and dedicated he was to his family here in the Philippines. He was the best uncle to anyone.
But to me–it was a lot of bull that grown people here must rely and ask for the help of someone who was working his butt off in some foreign country. That’s what I hate with some of my kababayans–this twisted notion that if you are working overseas, then you must be rich. And that it is your obligation to help your whole family here in the Philippines.
I hated how people wrote him to ask hims for money, for stuffs, for groceries, for clothes, for any freakin’ padala…To this day, I bear much hatred for people who kept writing him letters and asking him for things. I wanted to tell them, “if you like something so much, why don’t you work hard for it? Why are you asking our uncle to give it to you? He has a family to take care of, for Christ sakes!”
My uncle lived in the States for more than 30 years, I think. His last thoughts, on his last days–was for him to be buried here, in the Philippines, near his Mesias family.
To this day, it still kills me–thinking about him and how much he loved us.
To this day, it kills me–knowing someday I’ll have children and they will never even meet him.
To this day, it still hurts.
I miss you Uncle Henry. I will miss you forever…
LIFESTYLE WANDERLAND 