Chapter 6
My sister and I have another unspoken rule during my dad’s death anniversary.
I’ve been waiting outside the bathroom for almost half an hour, but I don’t knock on the door.
When Achi eventually comes out, I don’t ask her if everything is okay. I’ve learned a long time ago to pretend.
When we lost Pa, Achi helped Ma sort out the hospital bills, plan the funeral, thank everyone for their condolences. That whole time, my sister’s pleasant hosting demeanor didn’t break once. I’m pretty sure she’s the one least affected by grief.
But I give her space when today comes. I know that our bathroom is one of the rare places where Achi allows herself to be sad.
Once my sister steps out and we make our way to the car, I don’t point out that her eyes are puffy.
I also hold in all my comments when she wears her oversize Kardashian-esque sunglasses even though the shades are bigger than her face.
We get in the car and the whole ride is silent except for Ma’s monologue about today’s itinerary.
Her red notebook is laid out open on the dashboard, but Ma has already memorized our routine by heart.
I try not to get nervous when I notice her knee bouncing each time we reach a stoplight.
“Nika leads the novena prayer, Jackie takes care of the incense, I handle the altar, rice, and the ang paos…”
There are superstitions that are supposed to be for funerals or wakes that Ma insists we still practice every time we visit the cemetery. The one that she’s extra, extra careful about is—
“Pagpag. Already checked,” Ma mumbles to herself. “Called Gloria Maris and made sure we could get the big table.”
Unlike the movie, there aren’t any murderous ghosts or deals with the devil for how we practice pagpag.
Even though I’ve explained to Ma multiple times that pagpag is a superstition that’s practiced during wakes, she applies it to every visit to Pa.
It simply became routine that we never go straight home after the cemetery.
We always pass by the nearest McDonald’s, Jollibee, or convenience store after seeing Pa.
If my dad’s friends visit, we go to Gloria Maris.
The sun finally shows when Ma pulls up to the road leading to the Memorial Park.
Ever since I can remember, there have been the same flower vendor stalls lined up outside, with names like Lily’s Flower Shop, Cesar’s Flower Shop.
We enter the park and drive through the sprawling lawn covered with graves and flowers until we turn the corner toward Pa’s lot.
Pa’s old coworkers from the warehouse business usually arrive a little before noon, but this quiet time early in the morning—we save this moment for our family.
Ma sets up the altar in front of the grave while Achi and I prepare the flowers and the incense. Once we’re ready and take our places around Pa, I start leading the rosary prayer. Mere seconds in, my sister can’t resist butting in. “You recited the Joyful Mysteries.”
“Yes, and you’re interrupting.”
She interjects again. “It’s a Sunday. We should be praying the Glorious ones.”
“No,” I argue, not giving in. “It should be Joyful.”
“Where’d you get that information from?”
“Jesus,” I deadpan.
Ma sighs and urges us, “Let’s just get on with the prayer.”
By Achi’s head tilt, though, she’s for sure thinking I’m wrong. It really pisses me off that my sister thinks I’m incapable of doing anything right.
I carry on with my prayer leading, while Achi shoves her phone in my face. My stomach sinks when I read that Joyful Mysteries are designated for Saturdays.
God. Why does she have to be right every single time?!
“Achi, you’re ruining the mood for the prayer.”
“I just want to make sure you’re leading it right,” she argues back.
“Well, it’s hard to lead people who never follow.”
Ma then snatches away my pamphlet and consequently my duty as prayer leader. Achi and I resume standing there on our best behavior through the whole rosary while Ma leads the novena. Even in her silence, I can still feel Achi gloating that she caught me being wrong again.
We finish the prayer and Achi lights the candles on the altar while Ma passes me three incense sticks.
When Ma showed us how to use incense years ago, I overheard Achi ask if it was ironic that our family attended Catholic Mass and used incense.
I didn’t know what ironic meant so I chimed in that we weren’t ironic, we were just Chinese Filipino.
I light the sticks and bow three times toward Pa. His date of birth and death are written in golden script with his name: Antonio Simon T. Ilagan.
This part always makes me nervous. When Achi and Ma bow and do their prayers, they always linger in front of Pa’s grave, looking like they have so much to say. I don’t even know the whole story about the day Pa died.
When Ma picked me up from school instead of Pa that day, I asked where Pa was.
My mind still remembers how Ma’s knee was shaking and how her knuckles looked pale as she gripped the wheel.
Ma took a long time to answer. Even back then, I was scared to ask more questions.
She stayed quiet until a butterfly with black wings landed on the hood of the car.
“Nika, did I ever tell you why butterflies are so special?”
Ma continued explaining. “Some believe that butterflies are actually the souls of our departed loved ones. So whenever you see a butterfly, that means someone you love from heaven is saying hello.”
Later on, Achi was the one who broke the news to me that Pa was gone. She said he got sick—and that it was fast so it wasn’t painful. She and Ma were so busy afterward that they didn’t have time to explain further.
Ma wipes the corner of her eye, then meets my gaze. “You doing okay?” she asks, gently rubbing my arm.
I lie and nod.
She sighs and does the sign of the cross before tapping Pa’s photo on top of the altar. “I thank God every day that I have you and Jackie.”
It makes the heat rise in the back of my throat. “Yeah, it could’ve been so much worse,” I joke. “You could’ve had sons.”
Ma keeps pushing her agenda to make me cry. “I mean it,” she insists. “You two always come first.”
It was a nice moment.
And it could’ve stayed a nice moment if we weren’t interrupted. We look up when a car drives by and parks on the road across from us.
Is that …
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
My hair tie’s starting to fray from how hard I’m pulling on it.
With literally no shame, my mom lets go of my arm and runs to greet Dr. Derrick as he steps out of his car. He didn’t even bother to change out of his dentist scrubs. His presence is already irritating enough without me getting braces PTSD.
He places his hand on Ma’s side as he greets my achi. When he moves on to me, Dr. Derrick pats my hair like I’m a freaking Shih Tzu. “You doing okay?”
How dare he copyright the same question Ma just asked me.
I grumble in response and straighten out my hair that he messed up. He squints at the sun outside and decides to bring up the freaking weather. “Nice day out. Buti walang rain,” he comments. “Looks like someone from up there is smiling down at you all.”
He points to the sky (probably at his bestie, the moon).
Ma then hands Dr. Derrick matches while he grabs from our incense supply.
I start thinking how easy it’d be for his purple tie to catch fire when he uses the candle to light three incense sticks.
He proceeds to bow in front of the grave, as if he actually knew my dad.
Once he sets down the sticks, he pauses in front of Pa’s picture.
“I’m so sorry this happened,” he says, glancing at me and my sister. “I’m sure you all miss him.”
He steps closer to the picture. “Purple jade should help grant spiritual support…”
What he does next is what makes me snap. With no warning, he slips the jade bracelet around the picture frame in his hands.
If he stuck to praying and lighting incense, maybe I could’ve stayed quiet.
Maybe we could’ve left this place drama-free.
Or maybe Dr. freaking Derrick could’ve kept his hands off my dad’s picture.
I quickly snatch the portrait away from him. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Nika,” Achi calls me out before Dr. Derrick can speak for himself.
My anger is still directed at him. “This was supposed to be family only.”
“Annika.” Ma hits me with my full name and tells me to face her. “Let’s talk about this later.”
“Talk?” I ask, bitter laughs escaping my throat. “Ma, I can’t talk to you about anything!”
“Niks.” I hear my sister’s warning in the background, but I can’t stop.
“You keep saying that we should move on, why? So you can go off and get married to him?” I say, pointing at Dr. Derrick. “Why did we even come to the cemetery today? Everyone can tell that you’ve forgotten that Pa ever existed.”
I don’t get to see Ma’s expression.
Achi already grabbed my hand and dragged me curbside before I could.
She lets me go when we’re out of earshot. “Grabe, Niks.” She shakes her head. “Who said you could talk to people like that? Ang bastos mo naman kay Ma.”
“She’s the one being rude!” I yell back. “She promised me that she would put you and me first.”
“Uncle Derrick asked her if he could come, and I personally thought it was nice he wanted to pay his respects.”
Her saying “uncle” ticks me off even more.
Frustration floods Achi’s whole face. “You need to apologize. Both to Ma and Uncle Derrick.”
“But what about Pa?” I snap back. “What do you think he’ll feel when he finds out?”
Right when I say it, Achi does a complete one-eighty. Her whole face softens once she lays out the truth that still breaks my heart. “Niks, Pa isn’t with us anymore.”
It’s what she said when she broke the news to me the first time.
It’s what she said when I went back to school and expected Pa to be in the driver’s seat.
It’s what I’ve been hearing over and over again for the past five years …
But why does it still make time stop and the rest of the world fade into background noise?
Why does the truth crush every single thing inside me all the time?
“Nika!” Achi calls out to me when I start running.
I wipe the tears that slide down my cheeks and hug Pa’s picture to my chest as my feet pound on the concrete harder. There’s a sharp tug at my throat and a hitch at my sides, but I push myself to go faster—hoping there’s something, anything I can do to stop feeling this much hurt again.