Two fine mournings

MANILA, Philippines - This article isn’t a eulogy.  This isn’t the obituary section.  So I’m not going to expound about Mark Reyes.  Those who loved him know how hard he loved people.  Those who loved him, he loved probably more.  So that’s all I’ll say about him. 

As I write this, it’s been two days since Mark Reyes was shot in front of his condo and it hasn’t hit me yet.  Of course, I know it’s not going to hit me yet.  I’ve done this before. 

Four years ago, my older brother was gunned down outside a club trying to break up a fight.  I was called to the hospital at 4:30 a.m.  He was dead by the time I got there.  Oddly, I didn’t shed a lot of tears.  In fact, after I got home from the hospital, I wrote a journal entry about what had transpired in the hours before.

It wasn’t until days later, after the wake and funeral, after the crowds of condolers had left, after the news reports, after the police visits, that my brother’s death hit home.  I remember it clearly, it was the NBA draft and my favorite team, the New Jersey Nets, had picked Antoine Wright.  The Nets happened to be my brother’s favorite team as well, so I had to tell him.  I picked up my cell phone and called up his number… And that was when I finally realized that my brother was gone.  And that was when I learned how to overcome the death of a loved one. 

Getting over the death of a close one isn’t easy.  It’s a long and arduous task that may never happen.  But you have to realize two things:  The first — life goes on.  Even if you think life is over and it can’t possibly go on without the people you’ve lost, life does go on.   

Secondly, the only thing you have left of the person who died is your memories, so treasure them.  If you can, write down everything you remember about that person.  Every little nuance.  It won’t seem like a trite task once you’re doing it — in fact, it will make you laugh and giggle at times.  But believe me, there’s no worse feeling than being two years away from your loved one’s death and realizing that you’re forgetting what that person sounded like or said or did.  Share stories about that person.  Share the little things that you think only you noticed.  Share the little things they did for you.  Save the things they wrote by hand.  Things they drew.  Things they built.  Down the line, those are more valuable than their material possessions. 

That’s what I learned about death when my brother was killed.  It’s not the most Hallmark of advice, but it works.  And you will thank yourself further down the line.   

I just hope it works more than once for me.  

By the time this is printed, Mark Reyes’ wake will still be going on.  I probably wouldn’t have shed more than a tear or two.  People may think I’m a cold person, not mourning the death of my own best friend — the same best friend who stood by me during my older brother’s wake; the same best friend who offered to be my older brother; the same best friend who died of a bullet just like my brother did; the same best friend that I saw die in the same emergency room as my brother; the same best friend whose wake was in the same place as my brother’s.  But believe me, I will mourn him.  Just not in front of anyone and at a time I won’t be able to predict.