“A Memoir of Happiness that Turned into Grief”

By: Br. Winston Quilaton

Every Sunday was a ‘free day’ in the seminary. I could go

wherever I want and do whatever I like. However, Eric asked us if

we could celebrate the free day on Friday evening since we have no

class on weekends and reserved the Sunday for an important

schedule. After our approval and his permission, I immediately

assembled the videoke machine and started the simple celebration.

However, I thought that October 2, 2020, was just an ordinary Friday

for me. I thought that it would bring me satisfaction and temporarily

forget all worries in life. I did not expect that something unexpected Image 1: I was singing in front of the videoke.

would eventually come amid the happiness that I felt that time. All of those things did not matter

anymore when the saddest news interrupted my comfortable disposition. It was a memoir of

happiness that suddenly turned into grief.

While I was singing in front of the videoke, I could see the discomfort in Father Eric’s face.

He was always looking at his cellphone from time to time, as if someone was making him mad.

He went inside the library and I did not mind what it was all about because I was too focused on

the celebration. One of the seminarians stopped me from singing and he said, “You are being called

by father.” My heartbeat pumped so fast as I went into the library. It was like walking along a

narrow dark road where I am alone. As I entered, I could see father’s lion-looking stare for a few

seconds and then asked me, “Do you know someone whose Fb account is ‘Day Lights’?” I then

replied, “She is my cousin? What does it have to do with me?” Then he responded, “I was mad

because she wanted to talk to you. She was not telling me what it was all about. I do not want you
 to worry because I want you to enjoy the celebration. She then cried and told me that there was a

terrible news that happened in your family. Here, take this and talk to her.” I grabbed the director’s

phone and I was shocked when my cousin cried while saying, “Your brother Mark Jhon is dead!”

I thought that it was just a prank. Maybe she was just

fooling around. I even said a joke, “Weeds do not easily

die.” I was the kind of person that would not cry easily

but when I heard that my brother died, droplets of tears

poured down all over my face. I cried like a baby

wailing so loud. I was like having a horrible nightmare

wherein I could not wake up. I could not contain the Image 2 & 3: My Fb Story sympathizing the death of
‘Kuya Jan-Jan’.

emotions that I felt during that night. I then blamed myself, “How could I celebrate and enjoy

myself while I was unaware that someone special to me already passed away?”

I always argued with my brother before because of the household chores that he could not

handle. We even used our house as a wrestling ground or boxing gym. We quarreled a lot and I

even told him that his gluttonous eating habits would lead him to death. According to my mother,

he went into a nearby barangay to celebrate fiesta together with his friends. When he came home,

he noticed that his stomach was aching and took

medicine to ease the pain. She did not know that

my brother was already in pain. My mother,

‘mama’ Deborah, advised ‘kuya’ Jan-Jan to have a

medical check-up. My brother refused her offer

and said, “I can still manage it. Maybe I had eaten

Image 4: My brother wearing white shirt while eating
too much and I just have to rest.” It was probably
on the celebration.
his signal that he would not just rest for a while but instead, for eternity. The whole Quilaton family

was in great crisis. We argued for the funeral services due to our dissimilar religious practices. My

sister is a Baptist and I am a Catholic. When my brother’s body was still in the funeral homes, my

mother asked me what to do. She said that my sister wanted a coffin that has no symbol of the

cross on it. I got mad at her and told my mother to follow and respect the religion of my brother.

My brother was a Catholic and he even wanted to die as a Catholic. Even though he was not

religiously inclined, he promised to attend the Sunday mass. Sad to say, he did not make it and his

promise was not accomplished. To grant his request, I told my mother to use the coffin that had a

Catholic cross imprinted. I also requested for a priest to celebrate the mass for my departed brother.

That was the only way that my mother could do after she could no longer do what she wanted to

do when he was still alive. My mother blamed herself for not paying much attention to my brother.

“How could a mother, who was working in a hospital, aid other patients’ health conditions but

could not even see the struggle that my son was facing?” as she consistently blamed herself. It is

really difficult for a mother to accept the reality that my brother was already gone. That was the

most heartbreaking moment for a mother to bury her son. It was normal for a mother to die before

her children but when the opposite case happened, it was not easy to let go. After understanding

the current emotional stress of my mother, I immediately accepted the death of my brother within

that day. When my mother and the whole family would still think of his death, who would lift us?

There might be close friends and relatives in life that I could talk to but I trusted my family even

more.

Fr. Eric approached me and asked, “How come did you immediately accept it?” I then said

in reply, “I am very close to my mother. Some people would even call me ‘Deborah-gamay’, which

means ‘Little Deborah’ or ‘Deborah’s Little Child’. If I will not accept the reality, who will comfort
her?” I do not want to lose another family member again. His death brought me a crisis on my

priesthood vocation. If I will not focus on my studies, I will fail not just in academics but also in

my career. What I did was to stop thinking about the past but instead, I included him in my

everyday prayers. Fr. Eric also mentioned him on daily mass intentions. I knew that he was in the

kingdom of heaven where God was with him.

Days had already passed and the memory of my brother was still fresh. Mother said to

herself, “If I could still bring back the time, I would take him into the hospital”. Regret is always

at the end and she could no longer anticipate the happenings which made her worry even more.

The next day, she thought that my brother was still present. She was used to the daily lifestyle of

my brother because my brother also woke up early in the morning to do the household chores. At

around 3:30 am, he started preparing breakfast. While cooking, he arranged the things in the house

in order and cleaned the surroundings. My mother attempted to call my brother but she realized

that he was no longer in the house. I could still remember the time when he taught me how to cook

chicken curry, ‘escabeche’ (sweet and sour fish), and ‘patotin’ (stewed duck). I would always love

his cooking because he was so passionate and skilled. I knew that my mother also remembered it.

She stopped for a while and sat on the chair. She began to cry and could no longer do the household

chores by herself. Whenever I called her by phone, she would always omit the name ‘kuya Jan-

Jan’. Before he died, he once invited his friends to visit the house and celebrate their

companionship. His friends also agreed to his invitation. They did not know that it would be the

last time to see him in person. They did not know that his invitation is no longer a happy reunion

but an invitation of grief and total sadness. As they had agreed, all of his friends still went into the

house but only saw his corpse. As they entered, they all cried all together. They did not expect that
their reunion would be the saddest moment in life. Brother was known to be friendly, out-going,

and humorous however, his mouth was closed and silent.

Image 5: My brother’s face before he died. Image 6: My brother’s face after he died.

It was like a domino effect when the others also cried in pain. My mother also cried but

there were no tears in his eyes. Her eyes were dry because she was already tired of crying all night.

I then realized that I need to comfort my mother and make her believe that death was part of life.

I knew that I had a conflict with my sister but I thought that it was not the time to settle the problem.

I was more worried about the situation of my mother. Away from home, I contacted my older sister

and begged her to do everything to comfort mother. I also talked to my mother and said to her,

“We should not blame ourselves because we did not know that something worse was already

happening in his health. We should just accept that God already took his life which was borrowed

from Him. We should be happy that he would no longer suffer but rather let his soul rest in the

Father’s kingdom.” She just smiled at me and replied, “I hope that he is happy now but he is

unfair. He is happy but all of us are sad. Maybe his presence being with us will be wiped out but
he will be remembered always in our hearts and minds.” His

wake was held at our house and only few of the guests

arrived due to pandemic crisis. Our family also limited the

number of persons to visit so that our health would be

secured. Everything was normal and the viewing was in

Image 6: My friends and mother attending
place. brother’s wake.

On his last night, there was a strong wind and heavy rainfall. It was like the rain was

sympathizing with us. The place was too dark and the road was narrow, wet, and muddy, that only

small vehicles could get in. My mother thought that the guests would not arrive due to bad weather

conditions. They were also afraid to go out because of the COVID-19 restrictions and health risks.

Unexpectedly, hundreds of them visited and mourned. My mother was shocked. While looking at

the sky, she said, “Diyos Ginoo! Daghang Salamat!” She was so grateful that the visitors had

arrived and thanked God for letting that happen. My siblings could see her pale face that changed

into red. Her tears of mourning also changed into tears of joy. After a while, all of the parking

spaces were full so some of them parked at the edge of the road. The house was crowded with

Kuya Jan-Jan’s friends, all our relatives, schoolmates, and even my friends and classmates. It was

the first time that all our relatives were present there.

I was in Cavite and my hometown was in Kidapawan. I was away from home and I could

not personally go there. If I would attempt, it would take fourteen days in the quarantine facility.

I could not make it even on the last night. I then opted to offer something so that I could still join

them mourning. I sang his favorite songs ‘I will be here' and ‘Ode to my family’. They played it
in front of the crowd. When I sang

wholeheartedly, the crowd was silent

and sobbed. It was not the voice that

made them cry, however, as they

closed their eyes, it was like he sang

the song, not me. They could still

Image 7: I sang his favorite songs and posted it
remember him singing those songs in on Facebook.

front of a ‘videoke’ machine. They would even laugh at him when he cracked his voice because

he could not reach the high notes.

In the meantime, the house was very busy while my family assisted the crowd. They almost

forgot that the expenses were getting high and my mother could not pay it in time. We were grateful

that Fr. Eric, mama Modesta (our benefactor), Ma’am Amy (mother’s boss), and other friends,

sponsored most of the expenses. Father Eric patted my back and said to me, “Do not worry about

your mother. God is always there to provide and he uses instruments to let that happen.” I smiled

at him and said in reply, “Indeed pads, God works in mysterious ways.” The funeral home also

gave a thirty percent discount to lighten the worries of my mother. In the end, the last night ended

in a great farewell as the rain also stopped. As they shared their beautiful experiences with my

brother, the house that was once filled with sadness had turned into a happy get together.

The next day was eventually the most heartbreaking moments of saying goodbye to my

beloved brother. It was the day that everyone should be prepared and accept the fact that my brother

would no longer exist. I was almost afraid at that time for my mother because I did not want her

to lose her consciousness again after what happened to her deceased father. She fainted on the

same occasion when my grandfather died. I then requested my older sister for a video call so that
I would be updated. During that day, the internet was poor and I could hardly see what was

happening in the burial. Suddenly, the connection stopped and I could no longer contact anyone. I

sat inside the chapel and waited for anyone to update me. I started to worry about the situation. I

could not do anything but when I saw the crucifix in front of me, I knelt down, folded my hands

together, closed my eyes, and prayed. “O God, I know that Kuya Jan-Jan is now resting with you

in paradise. Please strengthen my faith, pleading you to help my family recover. Do not let them

lose their consciousness but make them awake and strong.” After a while, I received a chat on my

Messenger from my cousin. She sent me the pictures of the events

happened. I then asked her, “How was the burial?

Is my mother alright? Where are you right now?”

There were so many things that I would like to

ask her but all she said was, “Everything is

alright. Mama is now sleeping after being Image 8 & 9: The burial
of my brother.
exhausted.” “Thank you ate!”, I replied.

After the burial, everything came back to normal. After the body of my brother rested in

peace, everyone also went their own way and left the site. Some would say that, “After happiness

comes sorrow”. The happiness that I felt when the seminary enjoyed the celebration with drinks,

foods, and songs, had turned into grief when Kuya Jan-Jan passed away. I thought that the feeling

of grief would not disappear. However, Chanda Kaushik would say that,
 “We all go through hard times in life. It’s

a part of being alive and it's the reality we all

have to deal with. There are times we forget our

value as a person because we are so blinded with

these thoughts of loneliness, emptiness and ego.

Somewhere along the road we become numbed

Image 10: Funeral Poster made to commemorate my brother.
with all the frustrations and dissatisfaction. But

life itself isn't always about darkness and sadness, Life is also filled with colors and that makes it

beautiful. Along this path of darkness there's always light waiting to be seen by our daunted hearts.

Our heart is gifted to see this light. It may be hiding behind those circumstances that we encounter;

in a stranger we just met at an unexpected place; a family who has been always there but you just

ignored because of your imperfect relationship with them; it might be a longtime friend you have

or a friend you just met. Open your heart and you will see how blessed you are to have them all in

your life. Sometimes they are the light that shines your path in some dark phases of life. Don't lose

hope.”

Darkness would always

exist but it would eventually

disappear. A hope would

always exist and it would never

disappear. When I looked at the

sky, I saw the beautiful

Image 11: The final bonding between my mother and her son. radiance of the sun. I said to

myself “I should always look at the brighter side of the day.” Jesus said, “Do not let your hearts
be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that

were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go

and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be

where I am (John 14:1-3).” Indeed, there is hope in death. Life is unpredictable, and death or

sadness might strike at any time. There is no way for me to prepare for these things, yet when there

is loss, I remember that there is another life with Father in heaven. Times of grief teach me that

God will always be at my side to console me, restore my hope, and guide me through good and

difficult times. To my Kuya Jan-Jan, “Requiscat in Pace! (Rest in Peace)”