“Most great writing is born from pleasure or pain”
– Nancy Reynolds, renowned Educator
– Nancy Reynolds, renowned Educator
Agreed.
And… challenge accepted.
Let’s incorporate both…
Dear.... :
I love telling the story of how we met up after class to go to a student government meeting. We both hadn't eaten all day and we literally didn't have a dollar to our name. We scraped up a total of 0.85 cents together while standing in front of the vending machine and decided the best course of action was to buy a drink because you remembered you had cookies in your car. The snow came down softly but steadily on the windshield as we sat in your car eating Filipino cookies, cracking jokes and sharing a Yoo-hoo in the student union parking lot. That wasn't the day I realized you were my best friend, but it is so vivid in my mind because it encapsulates our friendship and coincidentally, our individual ideals: the meeting of the minds, the pooling of our resources (bayanihan!), teamwork, and most importantly, being able to find humor in any situation – no matter how sad life's circumstances may appear to be.
There were the late night conversations when we realized we watched the same shows after Seinfeld and Friends. We would copy Phil Hartman on News Radio ("adequadequadecacy") and critique Star Trek: The Next Generation while we watched "together" over the phone. While drawn out discussions on Filipino history, identity and community were a given, no topic was left untouched; from politics to existentialism, to debates on relationships and song analysis, everything was fair game. Our dynamic was eloquent and graceful; we could discuss multiple topics seamlessly without confusing each other. I appreciated how we could throw out our ideas, disagree, and move on. You were there for my secrets and vice versa, we shared our fears and dreams, with many sentences starting with "I never told anyone this but...."
Besides giving me your trust, you gave me courage; I was able to speak during our FCS meetings because you stood right next to me. There were many nights when we were falling asleep on my couch, “talking shop,” budgeting, organizing – feeling like we could really make a difference in our community. There were FIND conferences where we would meet up after a workshop, full of enthusiasm about who we just met and everything we just learned. You even started auditing my Eastern Religions class “for fun” because I told you how interesting the professor was. There were the countless holidays and special occasions we would hang at my house, but there were also those regular days where we would just get lost in conversation. Then we would go out to eat when we realized, “damn, it’s 1am already?”
Fast forward to another vivid memory: March 15, 2005
I called you, barely able to speak, only able to say your name in between sobs.
"I'll be right there."
Within minutes you arrived ready to receive my tightest hug and to listen intently as I recounted the details of one of the worst days of my life. You reminded me that no, everything was NOT going to be alright and that will have to do for now. And as surreal as that night was, I remember us laughing and cracking jokes, just like that snowy winter day, able to be present in the moment and find the blessing within life's most tragic circumstances.
When you gave your eulogy at her funeral a few days later, you spoke with praise and admiration. You spoke of her activism and her legacy, how she touched you personally and changed your way of thinking. And as I sat listening bursting with pride, I wondered if you knew how special you were to her too – she said you were an “old soul” with a maturity beyond your years. She spoke highly of your intelligence as well as your heart. She appreciated that she was able to “talk shop” with you and she loved that you reminded her of her young self and her students at the University of the Philippines – full of idealism and zeal while their country was on the cusp of a revolution; she encouraged your passion and tenacity, your belief that we could effect change in the world. She never worried when we were out together, she knew you had my back. She was right.
Years later, you continue to listen to my “stories of triumph” as well as my “tales of woe.” You allow me to vent and cry, but your practicality urges me to take action and to avoid complacency; most of all, I still find us laughing as we search for that silver lining. In some of my darkest days, it seemed as if she spoke through you: you believed in me, reminded me not to act less than who I was, even when I didn’t feel worthy. You said she looks down at me with pride, I hope you know she’s looking down at you with the same sentiment. She is proud of the man you have become, the choices you have made, the friendship we maintain.
To define the various elements that make up our friendship would be like describing what one sees through a kaleidoscope, with its myraid of bright but fractured colors. The pattern is not initially obvious as one turns the scope, but when the turning stops, all the different facets come together to create a view that is simultaneously complex and beautiful.
So I thought I’d just remind you that if you ever need me, I’m in your “left pocket” where you placed me over ten years ago, and like you were for me, “I’ll be right there.”
