My Uncle Karl

Hello world wide web, I would like to introduce to you my Uncle Karl.

Uncle Karl or, as I lovingly call him, Kuya Kalbo (a nickname he got because he was bald as a kid) is my mom's younger brother. He's also my godfather, so on Christmas days I would go to their house, call him Ninong, and demand my gift. He was married to my Tita Wheng and they have two kids, my cousins Loui and Migui. He was a pro when it comes to bowling and he loved travelling, always taking advantage of airline sales to book flights for his family. As you can see on the photos, he was also very handsome.

He was the older brother I never had. We used to play with his Family Computer when I was very young, and he was the first one to teach me how to use a computer. When I didn't have siblings yet and I was still his only niece, he used to buy me really nice toys. My favorites were the complete Popeye character dolls, the beach-themed Nano-Nano dolls playset, and a Mickey and Minnie kitchen playset. When I used to spend my summers at their old house in Valenzuela, he would bring me the song hits I asked for. When I was in high school, he would tell any guy who called our house that I wasn't there and that they should never call again. It used to annoy me so much, but now I think it was cute.

I would never admit it to his face, but I thought he was really cool. He loved tinkering with stuff, and put something on their bathroom that plays music the moment you turn on the lights and shut the door that you can never shower nor poop in silence whether you like it or not. He also loved making home videos and slideshows. Oh god, how he loved them. Every trip they've ever taken and every occasion celebrated merited a slideshow of videos and photos accompanied with Top 40 hits. Cheesy? Maybe. But sweet, really.

Last night, he was involved in an accident. Motorcycles, drinking, and not having a helmet are never a good combination in the first place, and for him it proved fatal. There was a procession earlier in the day and local officials put metal barricades on the road to stop traffic for the afternoon. They were supposed to take it out after the procession, but they didn't. He was in a coma. We prayed and prayed and prayed for him to wake up but it was not to be; he passed away this afternoon. He was 47.

It's so easy to think that we are invincible, that time is on our side, that it all lasts forever. But as proven time and time again, everything is fleeting. Just like that, his warmth and energy and laughter and light was extinguished.

Why did you have to go so soon, Kuya? I am not ready to refer to you in past tense yet and this is breaking my heart so much.

I am not ready for any of this.