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| Rowell, Wyngard, Olive, Agot, me and Garlic |
I lost a friend today. In truth, he was so much more than that. He was a mother to me. I was 15 or 16 when I first met him. Even then he looked out for me, often offering guidance no one else seemed capable of at the time. We reconnected in the early 90s for a few intense years where we spent most nights together eating, laughing, telling stories, and becoming the best of friends. He introduced me to Rei and the three of us made an odd but wildly fun triangle. We would part late at night, only to call each other again to talk and laugh about the evening. At the height of this friendship he said, "Dadating din ang araw na magkakahiwalay tayo, tandaan niyo iyan, mag-aaway tayo, tapos magkakabati na naman tayo, sama-sama ulit, tapos mag-iiba na naman. Ganoon talaga ang buhay." And, of course, he was right.
That intensity died down when I married and had children, though we still saw each other sporadically through the years. When it was just the two of us, we never did small talk. Wyngard was always privy to the major stories of my life and too often predicted stuff I could not foresee, or refused to see. He always knew what others couldn't know. He kept my deepest pains close to his heart and he never forgot. Whenever I tried to make light of things, he saw through me. He would never allow me to disguise my feelings. He would call me on them and I had no choice but to own up. We always laughed together. He was the epitome of tough love and had no patience for pretension or frivolity.
The last time I saw him he was recovering from a grueling heart surgery. Before the operation, I had visited him and wanted to talk him out of it, but we had reached that point of full acceptance in our friendship. I respected his decision to heal his physical heart through surgery, even though I so wanted him to approach it differently. The visit was light and very funny and, as usual, there was no end to his visitors. He was so loved. He survived the surgery and was well enough to see me and other friends for dinner.
He was already sitting at our table when I walked in. He stood up and said, "O, as usual tayo na naman ang maaga." Then we hugged, kissed, and got down to business. He asked me pointed questions about my life and scolded me for being "too nice". I laughed, but it warmed my heart to be reminded that he always had my back. I asked about his surgery and he told me how difficult recovery was and how painful, and I told him I could never have endured what he had. What were the chances of anyone surviving something like that?
The day I heard of the post-surgery stroke, I had woken up thinking of him. I had told him I would lend him my Mad Men dvds, and since I live so far from the city, I was working out a schedule in my head. But it wasn't meant to be. He never quite woke up again. That dinner we had in September was the last time I saw him. I am happy to remember him that way.
He hasn't left my thoughts since and I am full of gratitude today for everything he was to me. Each time I shed tears, I also hear his admonishment: "Ang drama ha. Hindi bagay sa suot mo." Or something like that. Even in death he makes me laugh.
There are so many, many memories, but they are for me to keep. I write this now as an offering, to put him here on this space, on this day. I love you, Wyngard, and I will miss everything about you. I thank you for watching over me, for seeing through me, and never allowing me to be anything but myself. Next time will be much better. I look forward to it already.
Today, Wyngard Tracy left the earth and was born to the angels. I am honored to have been part of his journey.
Thank you GARLIC GARCIA for the photo.
