I've had some practice of leaving and saying goodbye. Nothing so tragic and heart breaking, mind you. But little goodbyes, here and there, those that tug at your heart. Some goodbyes I hardly remember. Like when we left our home town Rio Tuba when I was eight to transfer to my father's family home town of Narra. I wasn't even there when they packed up our things, I was already at our new house, settling in and getting to know new friends and neighbors already. The sadness of leaving behind my childhood friends and playmates was eclipsed by the excitement of new places and faces. Maybe because I was still young and the distance wasn't much, so I was unaffected.
I changed schools and houses a few more times, each time leaving dear friends behind. Leaving, but not forgetting. If you ask me who was my best friend growing up, I would say three names: Ate Kay-kay, my childhood best friend in Rio Tuba, Melanie or 'Bors' as we call her, whose sister is my Ate's best friend, too; and then Sanria, 'Iya', my neighbor and closest friend in Panacan (Narra). I treasure the memories of times I've had with them: dressing up for tennis, only to play 'tag-tagan' at the tennis courts, having dramas and beauty contests after class at Ate Kay's house while Tita Merly is still at school; study sessions with Ate Kay-kay in their backyard while chewing gum that we dip in salt & vinegar when the sweetness is gone (haha. eew.); climbing Siresas trees with Iya and RJ, her brother, and Amoy, another neighbor & friend, and my Ate, too; catching jellyfish with bamboo sticks and collecting limpets from rocks at the beach; and also playing all sorts of games like 'Abot-abutan', 'Slipper Game' and 'Save-savan'. Those were wonderful times - carefree, joyful times. Childhood memories I'll hold dear and save to look back on when I'm old and gray. There were few pictures of those times, digi cams weren't so in vogue then, so I only have my mind pictures. And barring amnesia or Alzheimer's (Please, God, no.), I'll just have to walk through memory lane to bring back the joys of my youth.
And then there's the memories of adolescence - funny and sweet and also painful most of them are. My recollections of my high school years are a mix of awful and embarrassing memories, along with the sweet and wonderful unforgettable moments. It was certainly full of drama: the usual growing pains, add to that a bout of unrequited love (or so I thought), betrayal of friends and little heart breaks of different kinds. But then drama is a sure thing in the anguished lives the young lead. So my high school life is not dull to say the least. The best thing that happened is that it was during then that I found my true, lasting friends: Ike, Chu-an, May, Mia & Oro - CROAGS we called ourselves (initials of our last names).
I was blessed to have that, it made all the drama I had to go through more than worth it. But then having found the joy of true friendship made leaving it difficult. I've talked about goodbyes that just breezed through my life, and then there's the goodbyes that left marks of its passing. The thought of leaving the people you've been with for four years, people who've shared about a thousand of your days, was daunting then in our naive young minds. It seemed all that we hold dear is at an end. I know we exaggerate; we love drama like I said. But still it felt that way. We were a close bunch, since we're the only section in our year, our school being a private one and only small. Though we have cliques and barkadas, we were all pretty close.
So senior year came and we were counting the days to graduation. Through college applications and entrance exams, laboring on our thesis and final projects, we both dreaded and savored each days of our last year in high school. A painful goodbye was just waiting on the horizon. Oh, we know we'll see each other again, especially those of us who'll be studying in Manila, but we're sure it won't ever be the same. The memorable goodbye came not during our graduation or grad ball as you might think, it happened during our JS Camp (Yes, we have a camp instead of prom. How cool are we?), around October, I think. It wasn't planned at all, or expected, since March was still months away. That made it all the more sweeter and unforgettable. Especially since it was the guys - our tough, macho, manly classmates - that started it all. It was during the last day of the three-day camp, in one of our last sessions. The atmosphere was already emotional since our school pastor just finished praying for those who have family problems and broken relationships and many of us cried. It was then that some of our boys at the back started crying and exclaiming, "Pare, magkakahiwa-hiwalay na tayo...", and gushing such sentiments loudly. And then all of us in our class were crying, too. Hugs and teary Thank you's and I'm sorry's went all around. "I'll never forget you" was said many times. Each one of us was saying goodbye to best friends, lovers, seatmates, friends, even enemies, and to anyone and everyone who meant something. It was such an incredible moment. Too bad we have no pictures of that time except for one blurry shot of tear-stained faces which was taken only afterwards. But really, who would have thought of picture-taking at that time? We were all busy crying our hearts out. The theme song of the camp "Faithful Friend" was playing then and that became our graduation song. I don't think I'll ever forget that moment in time. No need for a picture when it's still clear in my mind. There are instances like that, memories of a time that would stay with you always. And that time was the most unforgettable goodbye in my life so far. But it wasn't the last.
College brought on wonderful people to my life. I met the most interesting, the smartest and most talented people I've ever met in UP. It was both impressing and intimidating. But thank God for Kalayaan Residence Hall, an all-freshmen coed dormitory in UP Diliman. It was there that I settled in and adjusted to the new adventures of college life, together with other lost, homesick, culture-shocked and mostly nervous freshies. We were all on the same boat, setting out to sail together in the ocean that is UP. It wasn't exactly smooth sailing, but at least I wasn't alone on the rough waters. And with the ship mates I had, what fun it was.
Fate had put me in a room in the Third Floor of BA in Kalai. BA stands for Boy's Annex, which was occupied by girls. Funny, I know. But we liked it. We were separated from the other girls in the Girls' Wing, but connected instead to the Boys' Wing, with the doors between corridors securely nailed shut of course. Still, it made dorm life definitely more interesting. There were twenty of us living in the third floor: twenty different people, a mix of different backgrounds, personalities, likes and dislikes, and most important of all, differing in how long we took to shower. It could've been a disaster, especially since there were only two bath stalls in our floor. Imagine the horrible possibilities! But it was different for us. Yes, we were all different, but we were the same, too, in other ways. And we were good together. We looked good, too. Haha. And so life in the top floor of BA was fun, girly, filled with good friendship, fashion advice, closets open for anything you need; wallets, too, for that matter; sympathy for terror profs and hell weeks; shared crushes and secrets; sugar and spice and everything nice. It was a good life. It was better (or worse?) because of the boys on the other side of the door, our partner corridor, 3D Boys as they were called. We consider them our floor mates, too.
We were always together, and we had fun - eating together, whether it's Bermont's that we loved or Gloria's that we all hated; tambays at Sunken Garden just before curfew, even late night forays to Beta Way; going to concerts, movies & plays together; Sunday lunch at Mang Jimmy's; the many overnights at Jollibee Philcoa; countless times of simply talking and laughing. There's also the highlights of our shared Kalai days: cheering for our team BATRIX during the sports fest, the fantastic, or you could say disastrous, cheer dance we crammed for and performed; various dances and events held at the MPH; Freshie Concert and UP Fair; Pasalubong Fest; and of course, our Open House and the Formal Dinner, and many other unforgettable moments in that one year we shared under one roof. But we only had that one year. We all knew that at the end of the second semester we would all have to leave dear old Kalai for other upper class dorms, boarding houses or apartments. It was sad, and so inevitable. Another goodbye. For some it wasn't such a big deal. After all we would still be school mates, most would still be together in Ilang, Yakal or Molave, the other dorms in UP, or at least living close together and seeing much of each other. Of course to me, the Queen of Attachments, all that doesn't make the end of our Kalai days any easier. To my sentimental soul it was exactly like leaving behind a place of comfort, a time of peace, and most important the love and friendship that were defined in the halls and walls of Kalayaan Residence Hall. The bonds that were formed out of being together day and night will never be the same after we leave. But leave we had to. So I had my dearest floor mates write letters in a notebook that would be the record of all that we had in the year we shared a home. It's one of my most treasured things, but not as treasured as the love and friendships that started in Kalai, but definitely did not end there.
After freshman year, I stayed in a boarding house near the campus with five other girls, who were also from Kalai, so all of us were already friends. This became my new family: our Mama Rej, then Krisel, Jecha, Kez and Dodo were my Ates (me being the youngest). Life was fun at 12A, Ocampo St., Bgy.UP Campus, and it became home for me. Books, lots of books, piled up on my shelves, my clutter was always all around (thank God for kind & understanding house mates and Ate Lot, our ever diligent land lady), and that dark, tiny half-of-a-house became the meaning of comfort to me. Especially in the way of living with people who care for you. Years passed, some of my house mates moved out, some new ones came, like Faye, Toni & Jamie and Ate Case, too, who seemed like she lived there, and lots and lots of memories were made. Lunches and dinners at Blue House, Sephali, Manang Fe's or sa ihaw-ihaw or just de lata at home, birthday surprises, kwentuhans that last till moring, mall gimiks, movie dates, pictorials galore, our 'book club' (they all read my books) & countless DVD marathons and PC games tournaments: living day in and day out made us all grow closer. And of course there's some really unforgettable moments: like the telenovela-like drama of our land ladies, survival living in the dark for days 'cause of the storm & brown-out, midnight excursions to the ER for bullets-or-snake bite?, the case of the missing laptop, then the case of the stolen laptop, and many others that cause me to smile now. Through all these our bond grew ever more stronger.
The 'Sisterhood' was born then - me as Lena, Dodo as Bridget, Mama Rej as Tibby and Kez the reluctant Carmen - and continued on even when we weren't living together anymore. We were friends, much like those characters in the book (by Ann Brashares) that we all liked. Even more, we were real sisters, in our hearts anyway. So when time came I had to leave Manila and say goodbye to that house I've called home for some four years, I brought with me not only my clutter and tons of books, but thousands of memories of thousands of days of joy & friendship & sisterhood and love. It was sad to say goodbye, but not too sad, because I know - I'm sure - it was not the end of us.
Memories truly are a wonderful thing. Thousand songs and poems and quotes have been written about it. "Memories are the treasures that we keep locked deep within the storehouse or our souls..." (Becky Aligada). With me, it's not only in my souls but in little boxes of mementos and sentimental nothings. In my case, it's a big box. Being the sentimental fool that I am, I've kept boxes full of 'memorable' stuff ever since high school: notes passed during class, Christmas & Valentine's cards and letters, ribbons, gift wrappers and tags, slum books and several diaries, and some weird things like torn pieces of paper that Acoy, my 'Dad' in high school asked me to keep, and I did; an old ballpen that my crush have borrowed from me; stones from El Nido, dried flowers and many, many other things. I had to buy more boxes when I got to college to have space for more, like the post-it notes from my Kalai roommate Jhai and my dear floor mates, tickets of different kinds: from movies I've watched at Cine Adarna and all the mall cinemas, UP Fair tickets (I have one for every year I was in UP), and other concerts I've attended, and UAAP game tickets, too; restaurant and fast food receipts; even tissues and placemats of places me and my friends have eaten at, and silly things that I keep from happy, or sometimes sad, moments in my life. I could say that these could be one of my most preciousssest belongings. Say if my house is on fire, my memory boxes would be one of the things I'll risk my life for saving. Really. That is after I've secured all my books. Whenever nostalgia assails me, which is more often than you think, I open these boxes and peruse what's inside along with the memory that comes with each sappy, silly thing. And if those memories are of distant places or distant times, the act of remembering lessens the gap of then and now.
I've written before that memories are bittersweet: it makes you happy in remembrance but makes you long for what is past and gone. It's still the same for me, more so maybe, now that more years are added in my life, meaning more memories. I'm blessed to have many friends from the many places I've been, which means I've shared and stored up lots of memories of time spent with those people in those places. Which in turn mean that now, being far from them; I miss a lot of people in a lot of places. And it's true, it's a hard life... it's my life, and I wouldn't have it any other way. It is bittersweet... but I'll take the bitterness of missing because the sweetness of remembering makes it all worth it. And in remembering I'm glad to know that the life I've lived is made up of these glorious memories… memories of goodbyes & hellos, memories of friendship & love. But not only memories, these are the ties that bind, no matter the distance of time and space, ties that bind me to the people – dearest and beloved friends - that I've said goodbye to, but never ever really left behind…
"Can miles truly separate you from friends… If you want to be with someone you love, aren't you already there?" ~Richard Bach
