This time last year

Christmas is one of my favorite holidays. There's all sort of sales and giveaways, and you get to do all this on your two-week break from school. When I was a kid there's also this: staying up. That joy of staying awake until 12 midnight to celebrate Christmas and New Years.

I've always spent Christmas with my Mom. I never knew any other way except spending it with my Grandmother: Inang. When my Mom left for Japan when I was 15 years old, I spent the holidays with Inang. Although it was a bit sad because I missed her, everything else was familiar. My cousins coming twice or thrice a day. Me handing out gifts to my aunt and uncles. 

Now, Christmas to me, is just blank. Suddenly a part of me just wanted to get it over with. But the other part of me doesn't want to go back to school. I am saddened by the fact that I will spend my holiday break literally doing the same things I'd do on regular holidays: staying in my bedroom, lounging around until they call me out for dinner, and then it's time to sleep again. 

I miss my Mom and brother, but furthermore, I miss Inang. She's always been there. She's always been around to catch me. And it always felt like home.

What pains me most is that this time last year, I can't even remember her. I have no last memories of her because at the time I was too proud of myself to even bother. I hated coming over for visits and I don't remember holding a conversation with her. The thing is, her last few months were a blur. Looking back, I see she seemed so different. She barely talked. She was bedridden. I never heard her laugh, or see her smile. She would just nod and point. And I just always thought she'd get better, that she'd get over it, and she can return to her usual annoying self. But that's the thing with time, it only goes forward. 

Perhaps the last memory I have of her is when I shared her bed one night. I don't even remember when was this. I just know that it was last year, perhaps the last time I saw her alive. At the time all I could think of was how uncomfortable it was. I didn't want to take up all the space because she was the sick one. But in between the night, I felt her hand touch my thigh and pat it. It brought me back to my childhood whenever she'd put me to sleep. I told my Mom this but she shrugged the idea and told me she was probably just reaching for a blanket. I refused to believe this. To me, at least at that moment, I saw a glimpse of her old self, the person I knew so well.

December 24 of 2016 and I am just dreading the midnight. I am a stranger to the customs here, and it just radiates unwelcomeness. Considering the fact that I have to disappear tomorrow, on the actual Christmas day, didn't even help. Yes, I wanted to get away. If I could only spend Christmas alone on a bar, a hotel, or a club would be so much better. At least the loud music would distract my thoughts. But a part of me didn't want to get away. After all, it wasn't the right thing to do. But then M sends me away like this, and although he keeps on saying it's for the best, for me to see Pampanga on holidays and see my cousins and aunts and uncles, I know better. I understand why. I am a writer. I exercise my imagination on a daily basis so there's no need for him to reiterate. Or to even explain why he's doing this. I know why I need to leave on the 25. And I accept it. I have nothing against it. It's just that, I have nowhere else to go. Everybody's just... not here.