Perks of Goodbyes

My sister (Therese) sent this piece of writing via email last November 20. It's a narration of her point-of-view of her last day in the Philippines.

Hasta la vista, tchau, au revoir, arrivederci, auf wiedersehen, goodbye, paalam! It is said in different languages but has an unambiguous meaning. Goodbyes aren't always easy, but you know what they say: When a door closes, another opens.

I woke up just like any other morning. Darkness filled my room, and I could barely see. I tiptoed out, so I wouldn't wake my little sister, Alyanna, who seemed enjoying her sleep. I couldn't believe it was my last night sleeping on that firm bed, I thought as I was showering. When I was finished, I found my mom packing. She had been packing for months now. It seemed endless. She had her hair in a messy bun, her lips in a pout, and her eyebrows in a crease. She finally noticed me and yelled with annoyance, “What was taking you so long? Hurry up! Hovey’s going to use the shower!” I didn't argue back knowing how stressed she was.

I scanned my room for eight years one last time, examining if I forgot something. I noticed how blue everything was and laughed to myself, remembering how I requested my walls, desks, and closet to be painted in my favourite color. After that, I went downstairs where my luggage was, and it was ready to go. I checked my phone and found multiple messages from my friends saying how they would miss me and wishing me to have a safe trip. I replied to them and put my phone in my pocket, so I could help with the others. We were putting the baggage at the back of the van when I felt the cold wind blew. I used to close my eyes to feel it whisper in my ear. It said its final goodbye.

Without my surprise, it was traffic on our way to the airport. I wouldn't miss that, for sure. Everyone was eerily quiet, especially my eldest sister, Celine. No words were uttered. We were sinking everything in and relishing our final moments at the place where we grew up. This was it. This was what we’ve all been waiting for. My dad broke the silence and asked, “McDonalds or Jollibee?” I pleaded, “McDonald's!” But everyone argued, “It would be our last time eating in Jollibee. There’s McDonald's everywhere in the world!” With a sigh of defeat, I gave in.

While waiting for our order, I pulled my wallet out and stared at the money inside, trying to figure out what I was going to do with it. I bombarded my mom with questions, “Should I have it exchanged? Is there an exchange rate centre open at this time of the day? What am I going to do with this? It would be useless there.” She replied trying to be patient, “We’d take care of that when we get there.” Before she left the table to get some napkins, she commanded, “Go buy toothpaste, a pack of wet tissues, and other things you need at 7/11 right at the corner.” She handed me the money and proceeded to. I forced Alyanna to come with me, so I wouldn't be stuck with my questions and thoughts.

After breakfast, we headed to the airport which was just a few minutes away. Then, I felt a vibration in my pocket. It said, “Which gate?” I texted the gate number back. As we reached our destination, I scanned everywhere. I couldn’t find them. My stomach dropped of disappointment. We carried the luggage to the cart, went to the front gate, and then I heard a shriek, “Therese! Therese!” I was running towards where the voice was coming from without realizing it. I heard Celine calling me back, but I ignored her. I gave my friends a tight hug. I held back my tears and tried keeping my emotions intact. I said, “I can’t believe you guys came. I thought you have classes in the morning. I didn’t expect you to be here at all.” They talked at the same time, overlapping each other’s stories as usual. I watched them and memorized their features and the way they are. This is how I would remember them. This moment would be imprinted in my brain, I thought to myself.

All of a sudden, Celine was behind me, shouting my name. She said coldly, “We need you to help put the baggage on the scanning machine.” I nodded, and put my arms around my friends one last time. Midway to the entrance gate, I looked back at them and saw the memories we shared together. I had seen them grow and change, and they had seen me. I would not be the same without them, and I knew that.

After we went through the entrance procedure, a guard stopped Celine from entering the gate saying, “This is the farthest you could get, Ma’am.” She complied and looked at us. She hugged everyone. When it was my turn, I hesitated. We weren't used to being soft with each other, so I felt uncomfortable. But I let her hold me, and I let myself do the same. I don’t know when I’m going to see her again or when she would follow. When she released me, she looked at me earnestly and instructed, “Watch over them. I know you will. Look after them. You’re the eldest now. I know you can do it."

We were waiting for our plane when I noticed my mom unusually focused on her phone. While I was taking pictures, I saw from the lens of the camera that tears were running from her eyes. I didn’t know what to do! I was in pure panic. I calmed myself down, breathed heavily, and counted to three. I sat beside her and patted her awkwardly at the back. She wailed, “It’s so hard being a mom! You would know when you have a child! Why does she have to be left behind? I never wanted our family to be separated.” I didn’t know what to say. I averted my eyes, so I wouldn't break down. I wanted to cry with her. My heart was breaking into pieces seeing her devastated. I looked out of the glass window to find an answer and said, “She’s going to be fine. You raised her well. You raised all of us well. She would be with us soon. You have to focus on what's ahead."

I looked out again and saw the runaway and the plane that would take me away. I was suddenly filled with excitement about the possibilities, the countless opportunities, and a new beginning. I would never be the same again after that moment. It was the ending of some relationships, of the past, and of the old me. Most, it was the beginning.