It took me a while to write this.
Not because I didn’t want to… but because it didn’t feel real.
Even now almost a year after, part of me still feels like I’m just writing about something that happened far away — like a story I heard, not something I lived through.
But I did. And this is about my brother.
When Loss Doesn’t Feel Real
My Kuya Noel passed away on May 23, 2025. And the truth is… it didn’t sink in right away.
Maybe because we weren’t able to go to the funeral. Maybe because I didn’t see him in a casket. (Mahabang kwento yun… for another time.) But because of that, there was no moment of finality for me.
No goodbye. No last look.
So in my mind, it felt like he was just somewhere out there — living his life — and I just didn’t see him anymore.
Parang… missing lang. Hindi lang bumibisita. Not gone. And that kind of grief is confusing.
Loving My Brother
I really loved my brother. He wasn’t perfect. Our story wasn’t perfect.
But he was my kuya. And growing up, I looked up to him. There’s something about having an older brother — someone you admire in your own quiet way, even if life doesn’t always turn out the way you imagined.
Love doesn’t disappear just because life got complicated. And grief doesn’t measure how perfect a life was. It measures how much that person meant to you.
The 40 Days After Death in Filipino Tradition
In the Philippines, the 40th day after death holds deep meaning. It’s not just another day.
It’s believed to be the time when the soul completes its journey and prepares for eternal rest.
Families gather to:
- attend mass
- pray for the departed
- remember their life
- share a meal together
It’s both a spiritual moment and a family moment.
A pause.
A way of saying: “We remember you. We are still here. And we carry you with us.”
Finally Facing Reality
For me, something shifted on the 40th day.
Maybe it was the prayers.
Maybe it was being with family.
Maybe it was finally allowing myself to feel it.
But even in that moment it really didn’t sink in that my kuya is gone. Maybe 60%.
But I tried telling myself that he was just somewhere out there.
Because the truth is… he isn’t. And accepting that hurt.
It was just today (10 months after) that I felt something I didn’t have before: Closure.
A Simple Gathering That Meant So Much
I called up our cousins.We decided to get together.
Nothing big. Nothing grand. Just family.
After hearing mass, we shared food together — something simple but comforting.
We ordered from Casa Mabuhay. But it wasn’t about the food. It was about sitting together, remembering, talking, and just being present.
There was laughter. There were stories. There were quiet moments too.
And somehow, in that simple gathering, I felt something soften in my heart.
Grief Isn’t Always Loud
Grief doesn’t always look like crying every day.
Sometimes it looks like:
- silence
- memories that suddenly come back
- random thoughts in the middle of the day
- moments where you wish you could say something you didn’t get to say
And sometimes, it looks like finally accepting something your heart wasn’t ready to accept before.
Celebrating a Life — Even If It Wasn’t Perfect
We often say “a life well-lived.” But the truth is, not all lives are perfect. Not all stories are neat and complete. And that’s okay. Because love doesn’t require perfection. That day, we didn’t just mourn.
We remembered.
We remembered who he was.
We remembered our connection to him.
We remembered that he was part of our lives.
And that matters.
Letting Go, Slowly
I don’t think grief ever fully disappears. But it changes. It becomes quieter. Softer. More manageable. And maybe that’s what the 40th day is really about. Not forgetting. But beginning to let go — little by little.
If you’ve ever lost someone you love, you probably understand this feeling. That space they leave behind never really goes away. But over time, it becomes something else.
A memory.
A lesson.
A quiet presence in your life.
I loved my brother. And I still do. And even if his life wasn’t perfect, I hope that wherever he is now…
he is at peace.
he is happy.
And maybe that’s enough for my heart to hold on to.
