Allan

Since we were kids, he tread past everything with his nonchalance, seeing the world through those chinky eyes, the ones you could not read even up to now. He rarely smiled in our photos as kids, perhaps he thought, 'ok, there's a camera, so stand still and let the shot pass'. All of us got the wit of Papa in our genes, but it is most pronounced in him. His humor is that which is, often times so right on point that it plainly insults. I often call his attention to that, but I, too, talk of my sentiments in a wry, sarcastic manner. So who am I to make him stop?

He started his family in a unique way, and continue to build a home the same way:  non-conformist, a step beyond society's norms. Brick upon brick, without the luxury of some concoction to hold the wall firmly together, much like the manner churches were built in the olden times in this country, he and his angel of a wife raised three of the strongest-willed and God-fearing women I have known.  And two of the purest and most beautiful mini versions of the first generation of women he has the privilege of having to call him 'Papa'.

All of us siblings have battles we fight, one story of struggle to another. Along the way, because our lives are so intertwined, we had conflicts. Some we fixed as fast as we could, others took a while. But the four of us, while we do not speak of it as openly, know in our hearts that all we have are 'us', and for our sake and that of our children's, we must keep it together. When times are rough, he calls me, in the middle of the night to rant. Depending on the level of my tolerance for that day, I either listen to him and say nothing, or argue with him about some point. 

When we had a long phone conversation a month ago, and I could not stop him from his yelling from the other end of the line: for one, he was incoherent, jumping from one point he used to justify his loud voice, to another which defended the obvious fact that he had one bottle too many. And so I said the one thing I was sure would put a period to his commas and semi-colons in the sentences he spewed out with his saliva perhaps flooding his mouthpiece (yes, I could hear it): 'ok, Allan, let's talk again tomorrow. I love you.' He paused for a second or two, and said, 'ok, love you.' 

His life is his family, read: with his two granchildren who adore him. Now that his three daughters have finished their college from UP (yes, again, that UP), he spends his days with his little ones, and his social media accounts. Of course mixing business with pleasure. Now that he is older, he has jumped from nonchalance to caring way too much about everything.  I know now that his strongest desire in life is to keep a family, this big family, the way Papa wanted it to be. His mantra in life is, 'we are Edgar's children'. What that means may only be defined by us siblings. Suffice it to say that if there is one that must be non-negotiable in our lives, whatever the demons present us and tempt our vulnerabilities with, the love we bear for our family, should never ever take a backseat.

Allan may be my younger brother, but he taught me plenty in this life, I have to admit that. The most important one is resilience: no matter how strong the storm, wild the fire, heavy the winds, in life we take that step everyday, and move along. We do not stop, to live, and to love. We do not stop being 'Edgar's children'. 

Happy Birthday, Edgar Allan Castillejos!