uncertainties and such fears

A poignant farewell 'conversation’

with a two-year-old nephew

Ello is my Kuya’s first child. He’s the family’s first nephew, and my parents’ first apo. He was born and about to be raised in Hampshire, a suburban city near London.

I’ve only seen him once before their vacation this summer. He was only an infant when he first visited the Philippines with his parents. All I could remember was his saggy little cheeks that distract my visual memory of his face.

Now, he refuses to be called a baby. He prefers to be tagged as a toddler. And he is actually. Now, he can walk, talk and call me “Tita Joy.”

When he first saw me, he introduced me to a number of his collection of toy cars he couldn’t live without. I am not a fan of cars so it all looked the same to me except for the colors. He, on the other hand, was very keen and knowledgeable enough to distinguish one from the other with particularity on their model, series and version. He then showed me a magazine of Ferraris, Porshe, Mustang, and other rare and luxurious car models that I have never encountered. It was quite astonishing how a two-year-old could know more about something than an adult.

When he wakes up, he looks for me in my room in the condo unit they rented fearing that I might have left while he slept. Sometimes, he wakes me up by staring at me across my pillow. We used to walk around the subdivision starting off at his favorite place – the parking lot. He explored the cars and identified each one of them as my Kuya and I chatted.

We were only together for barely two weeks but he loved me. And the time came that I had to send them off to the airport.

I am exhausted saying goodbyes at the airport. I feel like shredding into pieces knowing that my whole family is beyond that portal. This time, I thought I would not cry as I am already used to it. I have seen my dad, my mom, my younger brother and sister cross that portal.

So I hugged him and kissed him. It was a terrible mistake though when I tried to start a conversation regarding his feelings.

Tita Joy: Are you going to miss me?

Ello: Yes.

Why? You’re not coming?

Tita Joy: No, I’m not.

Ello: You’re going with Ate Lac? (His cousin from the mother-side)

Tita Joy: Yes

Ello: Why?

You don’t like me?

I was caught in momentary silence. I was lacking of the right words to say. At that instant, I felt like, my heart was crumbling into pieces, again. The idea that a two-year-old kid, whom I spent time only a few weeks with, could ever feel that loss from her Tita hurts me so much. Of course, I loved him. But I didn’t know what to say. How could I explain to a toddler the complexities of our situation or the ideas I know about social costs of migration?

As I hated it to happen, as I thought I’ve been exhausted with this, tears started gathering at the corners of my eye, as I was lacking of words to comfort him.

Luckily, before our conversation died down to a long pause, he turned to his left, away from me and saw a car pass by. He immediately said “Oh look, there’s a Honda.”

I smiled. Parting could hurt. But as they walked into the ‘check in’ area, I thought, when he grows up a little more, we’re going to have another conversation – a more profound one.