A Future Without My Brother

I realized that I will miss my brother Chito after my mother announced to the family one late Sunday afternoon about the plane crash. In between the sobbing, with her self-inflicting punishment of pulling her long black hair in agony, and the screaming and crying, I tried to decipher all these after that fateful event in late July, over 40 years ago. In my mind, I wanted to know what kind of future will it be for me without my brother. I imagined growing up with the emptiness, that feeling of longing for my brother who will no longer be at my side.

Chito was 3 years older than me then. We attended Letran College and enjoyed scouting activities together. Camping, hiking and exploring nature were perfect learning experiences for us. While I wanted to engage in sports like basketball and volleyball, my brother had the strong inclination to be a soldier of Christ. He was focused on becoming a priest. In fact, he was slated to attend the San Jose Seminary had he made it back to Manila after the World Jamboree in Greece.

The whole family saw him the day before, at the airport that day he left. He was frisky and appeared anxious to leave us. My father was busy taking family snapshots with his trusted Kodak camera surely loaded with black and white Ectachrome. Meanwhile, my mother was giving my brother last minute instructions to always pray the rosary, at the same time she was stuffing his left front chest pocket with a silvery, white rosary. I remember not being able to give him a hug before he boarded the plane, a simple, loving human gesture that I regret not being able to give him. Instead, I only managed a weak wave of my hand towards him. We then exchanged sad smiles and said to each other our final good-byes.

My relationship with the other members of my family became stronger after I lost my brother. At an early age, my father and mother instilled in us that our life on earth must be designed to do good to others, and that it is only temporary. Devout Catholics and practicing physicians, they were accustomed to life and death situations, and each member of the family learned quickly of these facts. We lived and grew up within a hospital environment where life and death situations happened several times daily. Because we lost a member of the family, our bond with each one became reinforced. It became habitual for us to look after one another. With the awareness that life itself can be snuffed in a fleeting moment, it became much more important for our family to stay together, and to enjoy the company of each other as much as possible.

Mario V Albano
Staten Island, New York, USA