My Uncle. My Hero


When we found out that our Uncle was dying, there was a grave silence among our family members. He was such a happy man. He was the one who was always present in our household when my father had to go and work overseas. He was a very supportive, jolly man. Our mornings were always filled with laughter and food. Aside from his jovial persona, he always had the right words to say about any particular issue whether personal or social. He was filled with so much wisdom. Yet there we were, struck by grief at the news that he only had a month to live. As with any other teenager, I feared not only for him but for us. I feared that he might change. That the disease might change him, might change the way he looks at the world. I fear that it might change me too. He was my role model. He made me look at the world with cheerfulness despite my short temper.

I was wrong. He never changed. He was still the same old happy Uncle still managed to joke around even when his speech was slurred already, when his hands were frail in the hospital bed.

I still remembered the last words he told me, “Jas, regardless of what happens to you in life, never lose sight of what makes you happy, of the life that you have lived regardless of how short or long it may be. You have to learn how to fight and not lose hope because in the end, that’s all that matters.”

Up to this very day, I hold those words dear to my heart. It’s what keeps me going. He will always be a part of me.

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