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".
