Saying Good-bye

The small restaurant in the NAIA airport was already closing. There were only a few people left and some had already said their good-byes. I could feel my eyes closing but I struggled to keep awake. Besides, there was a cute guy at the other table and I couldn't let him see me dozing off. My parents were quiet and my younger sister was playing snake on her cell phone. We've been in the airport for almost four hours. The guards were trying to get rid of us outside so we had to take refuge in the small restaurant.

Out of nowhere, my older sister arrived. She was in a hurry and her papers, passport and ticket were already in her hand. Her plane would be leaving in an hour so she had to get inside. My parents started reminding her of things she could possibly forget and told her to keep her passport in a safe place. Her companion was also in a hurry. He wanted to go to the CR before they get inside but my sister wanted him to take a picture of us first. We never got around to taking that picture since my parents were busy bombarding her with reminders. My younger sister and I were quiet the whole time. I was busy thinking that I would cry the moment our ate said good-bye. I was never the type to cry in public...but I guess there's always the first time. Finally, it was time for her to get inside. She hugged my younger sister first, then she hugged me. I was numb the whole time. I couldn't say anything to her. I couldn't even let the tears fall. Everything was just happening so fast. Just a few weeks ago, the three of us were sitting in her room, trying to help her put together her wardrobe for London, and now she was really leaving.

When she hugged our mother, they both cried and that was when I let the tears flow. In all the nineteen years that I've known my sister, I've never really seen her cry. There was a time when I was just a kid and my mother scolded her that she cried in her room. I heard her sobbing and my heart went out to her. I guess seeing her cry again got to me so I cried with them. It didn't matter that it was obvious that my sister was leaving for the first time since we were the only people inside the restaurant crying. It didn't matter that the cute guy was looking. It didn't matter that I had a policy of not crying in public. I was just so sad of seeing her go that I had to cry.

We escorted her to the departure area but my younger sister wanted to go the CR first. I didn't see her crying and I admired her toughness. Her eyes were only glazed over while I was letting the tears flow freely. I guess she wanted to cry in private. I told her to hurry. I wanted to say something-anything, to our ate before she leaves. I didn't get the chance. She was already far when my younger sister was finished collecting herself. I felt bad. I could have kidded her about my shoe size or something but instead I kept quiet. I didn't even get to say good-bye.

On the drive home, my mother was sobbing quietly beside me. I could hear her sniffling. I was looking out the window and trying to unsuccessfully cover my own sobs. I mentally cursed the people responsible for making the Philippines a poor country that people had to go overseas just to earn money. People like my sister. She will be working as a staff nurse in London. I remembered hearing my mother say that if only we were better off she wouldn't let my sister work in another country...If only.

It has almost been two days since she left but I still cry whenever I think of her. A friend said I could be so emotional. She'll only be gone for two years and besides, it wasn't as if were attached at the hip. True, we weren't really that close, and I never thought I'd miss her this bad. In fact, I was closer to my younger sister but ate and I were civil. When we fight, it's not the shouting, scratching, pulling each other's hair type of fight like other sisters do but we prefer the silent treatment. Besides, she had contributed so much to my personality. I kind of idolized her. She was my role model. I admired her taste in everything although I couldn't possibly admit that in front of her.

Even though she was rarely home because of her work in the hospital, her presence was always felt. She's the one who takes care of everybody in the house when they're sick. She's the one who kept the house together since everyone of us were slobs. She was the one who always decorated the house during Christmas. When our parents are fighting, she's the one that our mother could depend on. Now that she's somewhere else, who will do all that? Me? I don't think so. I don't think I could ever be as good of a daughter as my sister is. I don't think I could ever fill her shoes.

Two years. For some, it's a short time but a lot could happen in two years. When she comes back there will be this inevitable gap that is always there whenever you haven't seen or talk to someone for a long time. And I don't think I could talk to her on the phone. I would only cry. A friend said that I'd get used to it. I know I would, that's why I'm writing this. Time and distance has a way of separating people but I want live in the moment. Two years from now, I want to remember the time when my sister's absence had created a whirl of emotions inside of me. A time that I'll keep inside my treasure box of memories.