This would be my first blog entry, and I can't believe that it's this heavy.
My cousin Ondong [Raymund Abelon Jr.] passed away yesterday. Up to now, I still am in shock. Who would've expected a sixteen-year old boy to suddenly have his life snuffed? I can't even say the "D" word yet, because that would make everything so final, and I can't accept that. Not yet. I know in my mind that he's happier now, because he's not feeling pain anymore, and because he's with our Lord. My emotions are a different matter. Much as I'd like to, I can't.
What really makes the situation stink is that less than a couple of years ago, he appeared to be okay. His family is based in San Diego, and we rarely get to see them. Almost all of them [save for Aiza, the oldest among the siblings] went to the Philippines to spend Christmas [2003] and New Year [2004] with us, and everything seemed alright then. Granted, Ondong was less hyper than he was before, but we thought it was just because he was becoming mature. Still, that didn't keep him from wrestling with us, or cheating at cards.:p We didn't know that even then, he was already sick.
My aunt finally discovered that he wasn't as healthy as he was acting a few months after he went back to the States. Around August, he was diagnosed of cancer, and already on Stage 4, the last phase of the disease. By then, it had affected a lot of his organs. I think it started with the colon, and then it spread to the bone marrow and the brain. I'm not really sure if it affected other organs as well. Here in the Philippines, we knew it was bad, but we didn't know how horrible it was. We only realized the extent of the disease when he, his mom, and his younger brother went here in the country courtesy of the Make A Wish Foundation. He wanted to celebrate his birthday [which is in July] here, with his other relatives. The fact that the foundation stepped in to fulfill his wish made us see the extent of the damage. He could have wished to receive material things or go to places he has never gone before, as what the other children have asked for, but he didn't. Later, we will find out that he didn't do it solely for his sake, but because he wanted it to be his gift for his mom.
When they arrived here, I couldn't believe what happened to him. From a tall, hyper guy, he became someone so weak he couldn't get out of the car without assistance. It was really hard putting on a happy face in front of him when all we wanted to was to cry upon seeing him. I wasn't able to join them as they brought him to places because I had a summer class [which I really wanted and should have dropped], but I was determined to go with them to our moms' province in Samar. I cut my class, since our flight was scheduled on a Friday [19 April]. The flight from NAIA Domestic Airport to Tacloban was around 45 minutes, and the car trip to the province, which should have been around 6 hours, was extended by a few more hours because we had to go and visit the cemeteries before going straight home. Up to now, I still don't know if it's the exhausting journey, but by the time we arrived home, Ondong could barely walk to enter the house. We watched over him the three days we were there. he couldn't really get out of the bed anymore, and it was obvious that he really was sick. He had a seizure on Sunday which made my aunt [his mom], my uncle, and his brother bring him to the hospital in Tacloban, and they weren't able to be released from it until Tuesday, their scheduled flight back to L.A. When we said goodbye to them in the States, I was scared that that would be the last time I would see him, and it turns out to be true.
When they arrived in the States, he was immediately brought to the hospital, where he was operated on for hydrocephalus. He was fighting every step of the way, but yesterday, he finally let go. In less than a year, he transformed from a very lively guy to...
Absurdly, I felt resentful when they talk about him and how his bright future [he had straight As] was thrown out the window just like that. I want to go and tell them that they shouldn't go and think about the future, when they should think about he is [I can't talk to him in the past tense yet] as a person, because they're missing that. In my mind, he still is the same hyper guy before he fell ill.
Right now, I'm scared about a lot of things related to this. I remember all the times that we spent together. This last trip, he kept hugging my arm [he was almost always in his wheelchair by then] or putting his head on my shoulder, and he wasn't the physical one in their family. It's like he was spending as much time and attention to us as much as he can, absorbing everything that he could.
It's horrible to have seen him obviously suffering. The one thing that I am relieved at is that he doesn't feel pain anymore. When we received the call that he finally left us, it's as if a part of me died with him.
I'm not going to say goodbye to him. I won't. I'll see him again in heaven, and until then, I'll still love him.
