this story originally appeared in the philippine daily inquirer on October 8, 1998.
Death is inevitable, and I’ve learned not to fear mine. In fact, I want my death to be instantaneous.
Am I crazy? Or am I just kulang sa pansin or nalipasan ng gutom? I respect whatever opinion you have of me. But I am a man who considers my 26 long years in this world as good enough. I am gainfully employed, productive, fearful of God and, according to close friends, ruggedly handsome. (Down with your eyebrows, please.) I am a good son who never gave my parents a headache, except, of course, during college years when I pestered them for my tuition and allowances.
But even then, I tried hard not to be too much of a burden to them. I toiled in the rice fields during harvest season (normally April to May) to earn some money by pakikigapas, or, if it was a mango season, by pamimitas. To my eight siblings, I am a loving and helpful youngest brother; to my 15 nephews and nieces, a good uncle; and to several inaanaks, a gracious godfather.
During almost four years as a wage earner, I have been able to buy a second-hand car and pay for the renovation of our old but modest house in fulfillment of a promise I made to my Inang. I can still recall telling her when I was young, amid the fury of Typhoon “Didang” which raged all night, that I would never get married until our house was done. Not bad for someone who has worked for just four years, huh? How I was able to do all those things I myself am wondering. Could be because of clean living and my extreme frugality.
Nonetheless, I have never considered myself an accomplished professional or a success. That smacks of braggadocio. Still that I am satisfied with what I have and what I have become. Such contentment, I suppose, stripped me of any fear about the afterlife. I have dreams, yes, lots of them. But it is my philosophy to take life as it comes. If dreams are out of reach, so be it. It only means they are not for me.
Honestly, I really am not sure what or who influenced me to develop this attitude toward death and life. The thing I am only sure of is that my love life has nothing to do with it. Other episodes in life, maybe, both sad and otherwise. Or it could be some traumatic experiences I have had.
When I was in my senior year at the University of Santo Tomas, I almost died in a vehicular accident in Balayan, Batangas. My friends and I were then on our way home from a brother’s wedding on Dec. 8, 1992. We were a happy bunch, singing along with every tune that was being played on the radio. My best friend, a romantic fool who now works as a nurse in Chicago, kept on requesting the driver to try other stations to see if it was playing “Rain,” a remake of Eddie Peregrina’s song which made Donna Cruz famous. “Wala ba tayong makabagbag damdaming `Rain’ d’yan,” he kept asking the driver while tapping his shoulder. When the driver finally found a station playing the song, Mother Nature also obliged. “Ayan, `Rain’ ka kasi ng `Rain’ d’yan, umulan tuloy,” I teased Joel, through the deafening thunder and frightening lightning. The heavy rain quickly made the asphalt road slippery. All of a sudden, our Fiera skidded while trying to overtake a tricycle. It turned turtle before plunging into a 12-foot ravine. No one was seriously hurt, except me.
My only consolation was that the accident gave me experience that Ernest Hemingway would have envied. (Wasn’t he the one who committed suicide to know how it feels to be between life and death? Talk about dedication to the writing profession.) What a good subject for an article my life is, I thought. I could have written a novel about my near-death experience and probably turned up a bestseller. I can still recall vividly the total darkness I saw, how thirsty I was when I came to my senses, and how I was embraced by cold and a feeling of numbness.
Unfortunately, I am no Hemingway so I can’t write about the tragedy artfully and in very graphic detail. To put it simply, I don’t have the talent for it. Before I experienced that misfortune, I was also involved in two other vehicular accidents while going to school. Luckily, I suffered no injuries in both incidents. Again this year, I bumped two taxis (so far). I was not hurt, but my pocket did.
I began to wonder if these were omens. I’ve seen myself many times in my dreams dead after a vehicular accident. I’ve told my girlfriend Rachel about these dreams, but she didn’t believe me. And telling her did earn me her sympathy, just a stern dressing down. I laughed at her for overreacting.
Last May 25, however, I realized that my dream was no laughing matter. Again I almost got killed in my hometown in Nueva Ecija. This time, there was no vehicle involved. But shock and the pain I felt could not have been worse had I gone through nine days of “third-degree” investigation by sadistic policemen. I suffered no wounds and shed no blood. But I had welts, muscle contractions and severe burns. I thought it was my time when 120 volts of electricity went through my entire body. I felt as if I were underwater for several minutes.
Maybe, it was pure luck. Or maybe it was not yet my time. But I feel death inching closer and closer. But I am not really worried. I still have five more lives left.
