this story originally appeared in the philippine daily inquirer on December 4, 1999.
I met Brian in 1990, he was 24 and I was 20. It was one of those chance meetings that you only see in the movies. He was driving one night and he almost hit me with his rat patrol (that’s how he calls his jeep), our eyes met, we both smiled at each other and that was the start. I never knew somebody like Brian could really be interested in me. He was gorgeous, a lot of girls were after him while I was just a plump, plain Jane.
As it turns out, he was one of those few guys who are really attracted to girls with Chinese features. We started calling each other until eventually we went steady. It was a very troublesome year for me–I just got kicked out of school, I was very much into the wrong set of friends and I was nursing a broken heart from a really doomed relationship. Brian came at the right moment. I think it was written in the stars for us to meet that night.
He straightened out my crooked life. With his connections, I was able to go back to school at a time when nobody would accept a ”kick-out” like me. Brian and I were inseparable, we were together almost every day. If Brian was around then Paisley could not be far behind. We were always a couple–he with his watchful eye, making sure that I go to all my classes, and I, with my ever green eyes, trying to block out the competition. I was always afraid that some girl would just snatch him from me. I’m not really sure why we clicked. We’re totally different from each other.
He was into all kinds of music except pop and love songs, which I really like. He was into action and sci-fi movies and I was into the mushy ones. I like really neat clothes, he likes torn jeans and dirty sneakers. But then again, as they say, opposites attract. Eventually, we learned to compromise until such time that I liked what he liked and vice versa. I practically grew up with Brian. We were together every day and each day was always a learning experience. He taught me how to drive, to appreciate nature and most of all, music. I got to know and love Metallica, Pink Floyd, Vivaldi, Rachmaninoff and Sinatra because of him.
We would always go to breakwaters (that’s how we call the back of the Folk Arts Theater) to talk or if he’s in the mood, he would sing. He’s the kind of guy who’d make you feel really safe and special and that you’re like the most important person in the world. I was always his priority. He was a very romantic and sensitive guy, sensitive in every sense of the word. Funny because when you get to see him, you wouldn’t have that impression. As I said, he was very handsome, has long hair, likes to listen to heavy metal music and plays a mean bass guitar. But he was different. He was always careful not to hurt anyone’s feelings, very shy and most of the time, would just keep quiet.
He was a very popular guy and he had lots of friends. We were so much in love. He would always assure me that he loved me but that was not enough for me. I was very insecure and immature that I would always push him to the limit just to test him. I would do stupid things to hurt him, get into huge fights every day but there was nothing I could do to make him really angry at me. I’d hurt him, say sorry and he would always be ready to accept me back with open arms. He never fails to tell me ”I love you, see’tart” but I guess I never really knew the real meaning of that phrase. I hurt him a lot but he would always find a reason for everything that I do. Most of the time, he would just say ”bata ka pa kasi eh.”
I was very temperamental and demanding but he would always adjust to any situation I would put him into. He was always there for me every time I needed him. We went through a lot in our relationship. He asked me to marry him twice–the first time was when I was still in school–but I told him that I had to finish college first, to make my parents proud. The second time was when I was just starting to work. I said marriage has to wait because I want to pursue my career. He wanted so much to start his own family. He came from a dysfunctional one and all he wanted was to have his own perfect family.
Everything started falling into place in the latter part of 1995. I somehow matured, we were both working full time and there were lesser fights. It was a pretty harmonious relationship. We would see each other four or five times a week and each time spent with each other was quality time. We finally got engaged in 1996 but we had to postpone the wedding date several times because of financial reasons. I thought everything was okay–all things working out according to plan–but I was wrong.
Brian visited me one Sunday in November, which he never does because he knows that my folks were around. He looked very lonely and begged me to accompany him to his studio but I couldn’t because I had a prior engagement that I couldn’t get out of. When he got to the studio, his schedule was cancelled so he opted to go home. We talked on the phone on that same night and he promised to take me out the following Tuesday because we have not seen each other for about two weeks already. As usual, before putting the phone down, he said his ”I love you see’tart” and I said the same thing. That was the last time I spoke to him.
The next day, he had a seizure and he did not survive. I’m not really sure what happened but when I finally got to him, he was gone. They say that when a person dies, the last of the senses to go is the sense of hearing. I just whispered in his ear that I love him very much, and that he need not worry about me and that I’m letting him go because he was going to a place where I know he would be very happy. Everything was in a daze. I couldn’t cry. Even during his wake, I was my usual happy old self, being funny and telling everybody jokes. Everything was just like a dream that I figured eventually I would wake up and he would still be there.
We cremated him and up to that very last moment, I did not shed a tear. I think he somehow had a premonition of what was going to happen. He gave me his Christmas present in November. I asked why and he said nothing, and that I just consider it an early Christmas gift. I felt like my arms and legs were chopped off. He was my whole life, we did everything together. We had so many dreams and memories and now I was suddenly alone. It was always Brian and Paisley together. We never thought one would have to live without the other. He was gone and I never really had the chance to tell him that I truly love him and that I mean every word of it.
Days and months passed by and I couldn’t pull myself together. Every place I go to, everything I have would always remind me of him. I tried to put a brave front for the sake of my parents and friends, but inside I was dying a slow and painful death. It was like a part of me was taken away when he died. I learned so many things about Brian after his death. A lot of his family and friends told me how much he loved me. He had his misadventures and I was hurt for a while when I learned of them. But I didn’t get angry because I loved him so much. There’s nothing he could do to me that would make me hate him.
At that moment, I knew the kind of love he gave me–unconditional love–and I was not able to give him that. That was three years ago. I’m 29 years old now and Brian would have been 33. We should have been married and would probably have kids by now but I guess it was not meant to be. I have been into a few relationships after him but nothing seemed to work out. I always think of Brian and I still cry myself to sleep because I miss him so much.
I don’t question God why he took Brian away from me, but I do ask Him a lot of times, why am I still here when he’s gone? He has done so much for me, I wouldn’t be where I am now without him.
