enduring love

‘he died of a broken heart. where’s the political value in that?’

we laughed with disdain.

this was G and me talking, over bottles of beer and countless cigarettes. we were in a homestay one rainy night in baguio in the early nineties, a night before some writer’s workshop we were conducting. we were talking of R, a common acquaintance who was found dead when he hang himself because some girl broke up with him. we were rabid activists and the thought of sacrificing one’s life in the name of love was just pathetic and – well, funny.

our mistake is that we were talking about this oblivious that we were in front of CDQ, a noted columnist, wise and eloquent as we can only aspire to be, who was there as one of our speakers. he looked at us with disgust and said (with a hint of anger in his voice), ‘there is probably nothing more noble than to die for love.’

chastised, G and i fell silent. not that we believed him at that time (can’t speak for G but i know i didn’t). we just realised we were being callous and weren’t being very nice.

i remember this story because last night, on the occasion of kawadjan’s visit to the fair city of manila, we had a lovely dinner where i met N.

as we were nursing our beers and coffee after the splendid meal, N joined us. and almost without prompting, regaled us, a group of almost complete strangers, with the story of her woes over a loved one who did not return the feeling with quite the same intensity or dedication.

not that i think N will be committing suicide soon. it’s just that her somewhat impassioned and animated disclosure made me realise how far people would go - for love. and the shock of it is: ‘people’ includes me.

i started to put a list of willing and not so willing deeds i have committed in the context of a romantic relationship and decided that even the blogsphere is not a worthy (or discreet) confessional for it. suffice to say that dealing with the guilt of competing with the church (yes, there was some action involved with a man of the cloth), is not the highlight of the list, but is way up there.

it seems that while i consider myself to be an activist, a good son and a loyal friend, there is nothing that comes close to what i can do, what i have done, in the name of love.

and i have a feeling i am not alone in this.

last night after dinner i steal myself for another difficult discussion with JP. like all relationships, ours have its ups and downs. and lately, i have been reacquainted with the ‘downs’.

i tell myself, i can do this.

and for now, i did. we did.

this morning we renewed our commitment to work on our relationship. and tonight i take some time to write this post and remember R, whose death we laughed at decades ago.

i confess, in humility, that there have been times that i considered hurting myself, if only to manifest the devastation i feel inside. and that i now realise that people end their lives must be dealing with some pretty serious shit.

i won’t speak for G. but for all its worth, i apologise. i will not pretend to understand what R went through, but his death certainly did not merit ridicule.

as penance, i resolve that i will love well and live through it. let the proverbial shit hit the fan. i’m ready.

alternatively, in the words of martika, let's just say

‘love, thy will be done.’


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image in this post by linden laserna