Going to the Philippines, the land of my birth, was the farthest thing from my mind for my weeklong Thanksgiving break last week. I normally dread receiving calls very, very early in the morning. I have always had the feeling that such calls were, more often than not, about sickness and death in the family. Sure enough, when I received a call at 3 am in the morning two Mondays ago, I was told that my eldest and dearest nephew was rushed to a hospital in Manila. My eldest sister wanted me to know. A day later, he was gone. He was only 45. I honestly thought he won his battle against colon cancer five years ago. He had the operation, led what seemed to be a normal life shortly afterwards and then gained the weight he lost and then some. I have experienced four deaths in my family since 1999 and they have all been painful losses. My mom, my second sister, my dad, and then this time around, my second sister's eldest son who happened to be my eldest nephew. It seems there are more of them in heaven now than us here on earth. I console myself in the fact that all the pain and suffering they all endured before passing have now ended.

I vividly remember the time my mom passed on. I cried for days, months actually. My partner and even a friend advised me to seek the help of a psychiatrist given the seemingly long time for me to get over the grief. I didn't go. I knew I just needed time. I had a very close relationship with my mom, you see.

This Christmas, I know I will once again shed some tears. My nephew and I had a very rocky relationship. I wasn't exactly the best uncle to him while we were both growing up. How I wish I were more caring and affectionate. He's forgiven me for my shortcomings though. I do love him and I miss him a lot.