Three girls were born to the family, and of them I was said to be the weakest link. I delighted in the good things. To me, everything was rosy as people would go out of their way to please me; I was a charmer. The youngest in the family, I basked in love and sunshine.
I would laugh and make friends. I was never a fighter and didn’t figure in any of the neighborhood brawls. I never screamed nor ever said bad words at all.
My sisters were different. Gina, the all knowing and all too powerful, would send shivers to anyone who dared engage her in verbal fights. She was so intelligent. I just admired how sharply she would concoct retorts to refute any statement. She didn’t care about age. I thought she’d hurl her legalese even to an 80 year old. Everybody believed she would have made a very successful lawyer.
Agnes could weave outrageous stories and incite rebellion even among the saints. I just so loved to see her fight. Girls or boys, it didn’t matter. Out in the streets, she could actually stop the wind from blowing -- whenever she spoke, everybody listened. Often, she wouldn’t make sense. She would blurt out anything that came to her. In moments like this, I enjoyed coaching her with all the nasty words I wouldn’t have been able to say myself --under the guise of trying to shut her up.
Both sisters often fought my battles. Life was always sunny under their mantle of protection. But I lost one of them – in a manner most bitter -- and that changed my whole life story. Agnes and I were left to face the doom following that sudden death. It was so painful I could not imagine any other pain as excruciating. I was seeing everything in gray. I woke up one day and thought I was nearly blind. It was gray, literally – the leaves, the houses, the endless road. I was writhing in pain, and burning in anger.
Time passed. By the end of the following year, everyone had left. Papa was abroad, just as he had always been. Our eldest left for Manila to perhaps fulfill his promise of one day giving us a secure life. Sure enough, he gave us that. My other brother worked in the Middle East; he didn’t say why. Agnes was everywhere: in Manila, abroad, here. She, too, was trying to find the life that she wanted. I thought they all left to leave the pain behind. But I had not much choice but to stay, fend for myself, fight my battles – alone. Home, I watched my mother wallowed in depression – braving each day the misfortune of a mother outliving her child.
Time passed. I didn’t notice the world. I was busy building a fortress for myself – something impregnable that I remained untouched. I became tougher, stronger…more cautious. I learned to defend myself from anything and anyone. I didn’t back off from any fight or argument. I vowed to rise where SHE fell. I promised myself – I would never give any man the honor of seeing me fall. I was invincible—mighty and proud. I used my pain to subdue all encumbrances. I had it all. Inside, I was rotting helplessly. I dealt with an emptiness so great I thought the hurt would never stop. One after another, I had to deal with the tragedies of my life. At one point, I decided to end it all by ending my life, but decided against it. I risked stepping into the light. I will never forget the day Joseph ransomed my soul.
Time passed. I survived it all. I learned to forget…maybe not entirely, but I buried the pain somewhere it didn’t bother me for the longest time. Until today, when Agnes touched my heart with her words, no matter how plainly spoken. I remember she too was hurting so bad, and perhaps still is. This made me remember what I thought I have so long forgotten.
I miss my sisters.
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