40-degree evenings and soft winter light at dusk remind me of terror -  terror in opening the door to a lifeless body.  as sidewalks become carpeted with fallen leaves, wet winters remain a cruel reminder of the day i worked from the third floor loft my family's home without notice of my brother upright on the toilet for hours unknown. 

my brother is my sister's husband’s younger brother, who i grew alongside since we were only a grade apart at saint anthony catholic school in guam, before my sister and brother in law came to be. my brother would eventually move stateside from guam after high school just as i did where we would become woven as one family - helping with the kids, building our careers, and sharing social circles.  although i am the middle child between two sisters, we all considered him our brother. he was just a year younger than me, but i looked up to him AND he looked after me.  i consider myself the child of every group i assert myself into...playful, aloof, but willing to go where i am needed. 

this was the dynamic we had as he would often protect me as his very own.  he was the caretaker for my son as i juggled single parenthood through my early days in architecture. after my divorce he whisked me away across the world first class to london and seoul. he fed my many obsessions, such as the amazing race.  and when he traveled, he would always shower all his family and friends with omiyage. he did this while giggling and singing showtunes and uttering his signature phrases like “who said?!!” and “heloooo!”

although he is gone, he is ever present and lives in my mind constantly because i have the unique memory, what i consider i gift in hindsight,  of seeing him in his final state.  

it was a routine day where i worked from an isolated corner of my sister's house taking on back to back meetings and not moving from my post while he would be on his merry way to the airport to report to work as a airline agent by mid-afternoon.  on that day the house stirred sparingly- just me and my jindo mix dog butters and luke a 15-year old half blind shih tzu. my older sister took my parents to one of their many doctor's appointments so a quiet house felt a luxury to me. we made notice of his bedroom door ajar and the toilet room locked. we made notice his of car parked past his work start time.  panic set in when his coworkers frantically called my sister looking for him.  

not til 3pm did i finally get some air and walk the dog while a call from my sister comes in "have you seen jeffrey?, did you open the door?' i said no but we both knew without saying it loud what this could mean. i ended the call and took the six-minute walk hurriedly back to house, barely able to contain myself as pieces of the day played in my head like a reel. it all amounted to something very ominous - his car there while he was supposed to be at work; his bedroom light still on; and the locked door to the toilet room. the common restroom has a sink vestibule that my parents and nephew used while commenting the door to the toilet and bath was locked. my sister asked me to unlock it so my nephew could shower but he changed his mind. BUT I UNLOCKED IT AND NEVER OPENED IT, until the call. 

my mom was in the kitchen as i stormed in the house with panic.i was already on the verge of weeping 

me: "STAY HERE, SOMETHING IS WRONG!?".  

mom: "BAKIT?" 

i ran up the stairs through a blur of her questions and i slowly yet forcibly turned the knob and let the door glide to an acute15-degree opening . i saw just enough - a limp foot, his disfigured face slumped against the wall, his phone partially held. i felt color leave my body as i fumbled to call 911. they insisted i perform CPR.

 “NO, I’m scared I can’t, I know he’s been there awhile. 

Please just send someone” I begged.

By then I was squatting in the breezeway with the door wide open as neighbors who heard my terror were trying to comfort me.  

I can hear my mom on the phone 

"PATAY NA SI JEFFREY".  

one of the groups that i was able to connect with while visiting home is “Filipinos for Guahan”.  it was founded by six scholarly intellectuals who have made it their life’s work and continued purpose - to advocate for the shared interests of the native Chamorus using a uniquely-Filipino voice, inspiring reflections i have dwelled on all my life. 

i have a deep connection to Guahan even if native chamoru blood does not run through my veins.  my ancestry along with thousands of other Filipinos are an undeniable part of the fiber of Guahan’s history and will continue as such.  by examining empirical data and sharing stories, i have uncovered many remarkable commonalities: one shared the land that my grandfather built; another lives adjacent to our current primary residence; another’s dad worked in the same manufacturing plant as my dad did in the 70’s; others had uncles that enlisted in the military at the same time as my mom’s brothers; another person’s grandfather arrived the same year as my grandfather in 1949; another shared the same eagerness i once had to marry into a chamoru family.

these shared bonds are profound and distinct from the immigrant experience of Filipino Americans that came through the mainland.  as a non-minority group in the population, being Filipino from Guahan is complexly-intertwined and rich. the outsider and colonized mentality have become a means for fostering bonds as well as escalating tensions for many lifetimes.  as settlers alongside the natives, the greater good is at stake.

this is ever more personal for me as i navigate raising my Filipino son born from Guam and my Chamoru daughter born from California.  

in my ongoing written memoir i hope to do my ancestry justice by elaborating on these shared discoveries.

coming home to Guam for a prolonged stay of ten weeks would absolutely never have been anticipated if it weren’t for the pandemic. we are four months deep into this dystopian reality.  

i swore off ever coming back home, unless for a quick visit or layover.  this post is amidst an entirely different world - during a global pandemic of unfathomable proportions. 

it has been two years since leaving the island for a new beginning.  since then i have travelled many miles and my sense of home re-defined. no longer does home demand a physical presence on guam.

i have an endless list of projects constantly in the works.  this empire that i continue to build in my head is infinitely tied to and inspired by guam, even without immediate plans to return. i aim to expand my reach with remote capability so that i can travel home as i please. now that i am truly detached, the possibilities are all the more limitless.  sometimes being away from guam removes you from the figurative island.  we don’t see things until we get away.

it’ll be the last for awhile, hoping for real closure.

there are always multiple forces pulling me home.  this time, a friend needed company and help travelling home with her kids.  this time, i've been aching to finally get my divorce filed. this time, i just want to be breathe.  when you are leaving on the cusp of the cold, the warmth of home becomes all the more enticing. 

in February, Zamora and i visited Guam after leaving unexpectedly in august.  it felt familiar but i didn’t quite belong. it was a quick trip to pay our last repects to a close child of our family’s, who we sadly lost to leukemia.  i haven’t quite been able to get my clean slate beginning while so many things are in limbo.

Zamora is the new beginning that i am blessed with in life and if it’ll be just me and my kids for awhile, i’ll take it any day.


i've grown tired of the "this time, last year" reflection. i put the life-changing events that have transpired in the last year into perspective and accept that i am not in an unfavorable predicament. one thing i often fear is regret. it is so easy to say it out loud when deep down inside those haunting doubts make my stomach turn. regret and doubt do not bear the same consequences. regret i have to live with indefinitely and doubts eventually become displaced.  what i have preserved in all this? sanity, freedom, a newfound hope for happiness.

why should i reject change if it is inevitable.  there will be momentary pause while i wait for things to get sorted.  it's not that i've run out things to write about, it's that i choose to remain silent while on the cusp.
i thought i needed a short break when i last left the island but realized it was better for me to move on.  guam ended up being a static state. it was a place that drove my marriage to the ground and thrust me back to California.