Sister Lessons

It's been over three years since my sister Kim passed away. I still find myself thinking about her, not necessarily out of sadness; although there are definitely days that affect me more than others. I think. I reminisce. I wonder what might have been. I know that's natural. I think about her all the time, but I hardly ever verbalize this to anyone. It's strange. Towards the end of her life, I would spend my time actively "not" thinking about her, which is actually just a euphemism for "ignore."

I ignored my sister the last few months of her life. In her words, in her mind, I abandoned her. And the truth is: I did.

I had to. Middle-aged life, work and family became my primary concerns. There was no room in my life for the relationship she wanted. Kim stubbornly refused to gracefully accept this new reality. So I walked away.

This is my pattern. This is what I do whenever someone emotionally demands from me more than I'm prepared to give. I shut that person out. I move on. The more I look back on my life, the more I see it filled with past relationships that I left to wither and die. The people I leave behind have become vague shadows. Instead of a being a deeply connected and hard felt memory, that person is more than forgotten; it's almost like they never existed.

Case in point: a mini, informal high school "reunion" I attended last month. Although moments of that event were definitely pleasant, I left with the troubling impression that I had no connection to those people as a whole. Incidents and stories were brought up that were intended to remind us of the bonds we once shared, but for the life of me, my mind just drew a blank. That realization disturbed me for weeks afterward. These were people who invited me in their homes, welcomed me into their families, supported and cared for me. In the end, immaturity twisted our relationships and expectations and I walked away.

That day of the "reunion" I found myself vainly trying to reconnect with strangers.

If Kim was still alive, there's a possibility we would have felt the same way about each other. A bond that was so close, that breaking it would prove traumatic and damaging to both parties. Something neither one of us would ever recover from.

But Kim's passing has ensured that I can never ignore her again. Kim, in a very strange and morbid way, has regained her former place in my life. I find myself reconciling my image of Kim as "just" my sister against the multitude of very different memories and viewpoints of the other lives she touched. So in reevaluating and slowly assembling the larger picture of her life, I'm forced to admit that Kim was, and always will be, more than I could ever imagine. She was more determined, more beautiful, more intelligent, more brave, more crazy, more sensitive, more caring, more empathetic, more neurotic, more capricious, more unstable . . . more full of life than I ever gave her credit for. She was more than just my sister. She is simply "more."

I will always be thinking about her. I will never stop thinking about her. I miss her. I miss what she was. I miss what she could have been. I miss everything about her. I just miss her.

song

The choices you make,
The risks that you take
can overwhelm you . . .
So girl be careful.

You never cared.
You held your stare.
You stood your ground.
Still . . . girl be careful.

But you held to your own reasons.
And you changed with your own seasons.

Please, let mercy just smile on your face.
Let her envelop your soul with her warm embrace.

The years linger on but I swear
everything still feels the same.

Nothing has changed.
Nothing will change.

Dealing with Insomnia

I need to wake up at 4:00am at the latest. It's 12:15am. I can't fall asleep. The insomnia has been affecting me for the last 3 or so weeks. For every night I get of 8 hours sleep, I have another 20 nights in which I clock in 5 or less hours.

I'm bitterly disappointed in someone I thought I knew. I shouldn't be surprised by that person's actions. Even though logic tells me that this person has always been selfish and self-centered, I've always held onto the wish that he would grow into the man I always hoped he would be. He hasn't and I doubt he ever will. It's time to let him go. I hope he has a good life, but all I see are chickens waiting to come home to roost.

The kernel that sparked this conflict? He expected me to make an appearance at a function he should have known would be difficult for me to make. I never made any promises to appear that night, but made myself available to see him the following day. He responded childishly at my absence and avoided me, even when I tried contacting him several times. I made a misjudgement on my part, but my intentions weren't malicious. However, he took it very personally. Now that I think about it, I see that he expects the world from me, but I'd be hard pressed to think of what he's really given me in return.

Admittedly, I've had issues with my life the way it is now. But when push came to shove, I realized my wife, son and goddaughter are more important to me than anything else in this world. Their comfort comes before everything, even my own selfish needs. It's not an easy thing to do on my part . . . I'm not averse to exhibiting self-centered behavior, but their happiness has to be more important than my own. I eventually realized that the moment I put myself before them is the moment we stop being a family. The moment I'm cold to my wife's needs is the crack that could lead to my marriage's dissolution. I'm not going to have that.

The last months of Kim's life, I shut her out emotionally. I was cold and distant. The last night we spent together, Kim unleashed her anger over me being consumed with my own life, family, work and not her's. She wasn't happy with just seeing each other and hanging out every so often. She wanted the close relationship we had before as kids. Kim didn't understand that my responsibilities didn't disappear when she blew into town. My family didn't evaporate into thin air when she showed up at the door. I didn't have the space in my life to worry about her, but she refused to accept this simple fact. Looking back on it now, I know I wouldn't have fundamentatlly changed my attitude, even if I knew she would pass away soon. I would have made an effort to say goodbye, but my attitude wouldn't have changed one bit.

Now I see it happening all over again, but I can't do anything different.

What's going on right now?

Some minor thoughts and tribulations:

I'm watching Game 3 of the NBA finals on my new 46" HDTV. The difference between regular TV and HDTV is kinda like the difference between dating a "mall cute" chick and a supermodel. Sure both will do in a pinch, but I can imagine it would be a little hard to go back to "mall cute" when you've had "goddess beautiful". And for full disclaimer's sake: it would be difficult, even in my "skinny-youthful-full-head-of-hair" heyday to date either class of female. I would have been lucky to date ANY class of female.

In the movie "Notting Hill," there's a montage scene of Hugh Grant trying to move on and date after being shut down by Julia Roberts' character, YET AGAIN. After a couple of predictable and cartoonish duds, he stumbles upon a lovely, attractive woman who clearly fancies him. In any normal circumstance, she would have been deemed a great catch. Yet, in the glaring light of Julia Roberts, she is just small potatoes . . . you know . . . "mall cute."

If I'm writing about Notting Hill, then the series is clearly not going well for the Lakers. Boston is clearly the superior team, talent-wise, in this series. That doesn't necessarily mean anything at this point. The 88 finals between LA and Detroit comes to mind. I remember the Pistons being the clearly superior team, but thanks to guts, grit and a few favorable foul calls, the Lakers escaped with a championship that they didn't necessarily deserve. Not that I'm complaining . . . I'm just saying that the Lakers have proven themselves to be the "underdog."

I guess I'm not a big "Kobe" fan; I've always been a Shaq guy. I understand why the Lakers traded him away. Hindsight has proven that Shaq was on the downside of his career. He's still a good player, he's just no longer the self-proclaimed monster force of nature. So Miami basically rented Shaq for about 2 years and he brought much needed attitude and a championship to that team. He even played his heart out that year in the Detroit series; like he had something to prove after the Lakers' loss the previous year. However, as evidenced by Phoenix's gamble this year, asking for Shaq at this point to carry a team is asking for a bit much.

I know, I know . . . Kobe is playing the best ball of his career and he's now threatening to be regarded in the same class as Jordan, but I just can't get into him. If the Lakers win the championship, I'll be very ambivalent about it.

Ok, enough basketball. Where was I?

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In terms of fan obsession, "Sex in the City" is the desperate feminine version of "Star Trek". Women dressing like their favorite "Sex in the City" character before watching the film, meet up in a bar and drinking "cosmos". Who does that? "Star Trek" fans, that's who. Dressing up and pretending to live life like their favorite FICTIONAL character . . . all in good fun. Well if it's sick for Star Trek, it's sick for Sex in the City.

But as one guy expressed in a candid conversation, "any show that encourages women to drink, screw around, cheat on their lovers and act like sluts is alright by me."

Hear, hear.

For the record, I think it's a good show.

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My brother's high school buddy took it upon himself to spearhead the creation and implementation of a scholarship commemorating my sister's memory. It was a very selfless and generous action on his end. The idea of a scholarship was publicly brought up at Kim's funeral by one of her eulogists. It sounded like a very good idea, even when that eulogist dropped the ball and disappointed the hell out of my family. The scholarship seemed to be a good step to turn what was a very distressful and sorrowful situation into something positive. My brother's friend, for no reason other than compassion, took up the cause and willed this scholarship to fruition. Jay, my family is forever in your debt.

To learn more about the scholarhip, here's the speech I wrote for the scholarship recipient's award ceremony:

We’re here to present the award for the Kimberly Perez Making Connections scholarship, which acknowledges the student whose submitted essay and actions best illustrate the following ideas:

1. that such things as age, gender, nationality, language, ethnicity and religion should never stand in the way of compassion.

2. that education is the best road to compassion.

3. that compassion, even if it frightens you, should always lead to action.

These ideas, which fuel this scholarship, was inspired by our sister Kim who embodied them every day of her life. She was an amazing person; a stubbornly fearless individual who was positioning herself to make a larger contribution to the world community.

We see a little spark of Kim in this year’s chosen essay, in which the student was so moved by the plight of Ugandan children in that country’s civil war, she felt compelled enough to raise awareness and aid, by helping to organize the “Sounds of Silence” event in 2007. This is an example of education leading to compassion which in turn, leads to action.

This year’s recipient goes on to write about her time volunteering at a neighborhood hospital, noting that making connections is not just about the grand public gesture. It’s also about the smaller personal actions that can make all the difference in everyday life.

It is our hope that this year’s recipient views this scholarship as encouragement to continue down her stated path, to begin her studies in Sociology and Psychology, and perhaps one day, join the Peace Corps.

We are proud to present this year’s Kimberly Perez Making Connections scholarship, and its $500 dollar reward, to Margarita Lopez.


The scholarship recipient had no idea she was the winner. As I read the speech and talked about the specifics of Margarita's essay, my peripheral vision caught sight of her visible surprise as the realization dawned on both her and her friends. It was once of the nicer moments I've had in a while, and I'm sure Kim would have approved.

more more quick random thoughts

It's 10:30 pm. Time to go to sleep. I want to wake up at 2 this morning to give me enough time to work on an art project before I have to start my day job at 3:30 or 4. The art project is a 20 page comic story about my sister. I've been subconsciously avoiding starting any real concrete work on this thing. Not good when I have a September commitment to have this thing published in an upcoming Filipino literary anthology.

Why the reticence? Why the delay? I guess I'm afraid. I'm afraid of telling my side of the story without giving my sister her fair chance to rebut. I'm afraid of saying things that would hurt the wrong people. I'm afraid of being exploitative of my sister's memory. There's a scene in that Bette Midler movie "Beaches" where she sits by her friend (played by Barbara Hershey) as that friend slowly passes away. Is the attention on her dying friend? No. It's on the heavily filtered Bette angelicly smiling her ass off as Barbara croaks OFF CAMERA slumping on a beach chair. That scene pissed me off. Can you say the words "ego project?" So Bette's reaction to her friend dying is SO MUCH more important than the fact her friend is DYING????

I so do not want to be like Bette Midler in "Beaches".

I think about Kim every day. I want people to know how much of a annoying/resilient/needy/amazing person she was. I want to keep her memory alive, but I feel like I'm doing a poor job of it. My life is such that if I pay attention to one thing, another thing that also needs attention suffers. It could be housework. It could be my wife, son and goddaughter. It could be my dayjob. It could be the stack of dvds and comics collecting dust in my room. It could be my art. It could be the update for my website. It could be the 3 emails from old friends I'd love to respond to but don't have the energy.

I feel more like an adult than ever before. Perhaps it's just that I feel more comfortable with my age than ever before. I constantly think of myself as "40" and publicly call myself an "old" man. I remember how disappointed Kim was with the decisions I made. Settling down for a steady corporate wage and a nice family life in the suburbs. Turning my back on my wildest dreams and aspirations. I remember the subtle look of disdain when I showed her my cubicle or changed my son's diapers. Maybe she was envious. Maybe she wasn't. I do know she commented to more than one person about my lack of ambition. I wished I could have been more like her, but I know there really was no way that would ever happen. I acknowldeged my limits, perhaps a little too well. My sister never did. Her drive left her with an amazing life, but it also lead to her premature death. She could have slowed down, take a break, but there was too much to do and see. She took a bus she shouldn't have. She received several warnings from different sources (human, biological and supernatural) not to do so, but she wouldn't listen. She had to see the rest of Ghana before the end of her vacation. Now she's dead. Kim died being Kim.

Eulogy

Kimberly Rosario Perez
1976-2006

Hello, I’m Kim’s brother.

My memories of my baby sister are different than most. At times, I believed the two of us were incredibly close, as bonded to one another as a brother and sister could possibly be. Then there were other times that both of us felt a deep, almost impenetrable, divide from one another, wondering if our lives would ever allow us to find a way to reconcile. Throughout the good and bad times, I have never lost my admiration, my pride and my love for the amazing woman Kim became. And believe me, she was amazing.

I remember Kim as a baby. Her childhood name was “Kimby”. “Kimby” was the baby girl, the only girl, the apple-of-my-father’s eye. She was as cute as a button. Everyone loved her. Everyone protected her. She was the center of attention. Being the baby girl was something that “Kimby” initially cherished, but it was a role that she eventually outgrew. “Kimby” was a role she could no longer play. During her middle school years, she began to gently, but resolutely, inform us that she was now to be called “Kim.” We all laughed at first, but she eventually wore us down. She made her first stab at independence, her first step towards maturity.

I remember Kim as a teenager. For me, Kim’s teenaged years were marked by the death of her childhood friend Frances. She was deeply and profoundly affected by Frances’ passing. I was somewhat surprised when I brought the subject of Frances up to friends that knew Kim after high school. It seems that Kim only mentioned Frances briefly, in passing. But I was there. I saw how devastated Kim was by Frances’ death. I know the pain and struggle Kim went through in coming to terms with it, dealing with it. The fact that someone as open and honest as Kim, would be so silent about such an important subject, spoke volumes about how Frances’ death affected her.

Through her death, Frances taught Kim her most important lesson: that life is precious, that life is fragile. Life is to be experienced and enjoyed. Life was meant to make a difference. Frances’ lesson guided Kim throughout the rest of her life and travels. Frances was the foundation that underlayed my sister’s amazing life.

Collectively, as a family, we had a difficult time understanding why Kim felt so compelled to live the life she did. She would tell us stories of her travels. She would show us pictures of the many friends she made. But we were selfish. We wanted to see so much more of her. We wanted her home.

However, Kim’s thirst for life lead to her compassion for the lives of others, and finally brought her to action; to take that compassion and to use it to for the betterment of her fellow human beings. At the expense of stability, at the expense of settling down and raising a family, at the expense of her own safety, Kim found fulfillment. She found happiness.

The overwhelming number of condolences my family has received these past two weeks, the phone calls, emails and visits from all around the globe, has finally connected us to the many lives that she’s touched, to all the good that’s she done. We understand now Kim. We get it. We are so proud of you.

As Kim used Frances’ death to spark her own life’s journey, it is important that we transform the shock and grief of Kim’s passing into something positive. Something lasting. I believe that the best way to memorialize my sister, the best way to honor her memory is to do something a little brave. Do something a little foolhardy. Do something a little unpredictable. Do something a little fragile. Do something a little amazing.

Do something that Kim would do.

"I would apologize,
If I could see your eyes.
Because when you showed me myself
I became someone else.
But I was caught in between
all you wished for and all you need.
Maybe you're not even sure what it's for,
anymore than me.

May God's love be with you."

Sister

This will be my last post for awhile. The US consulate has informed my family that my sister has passed away in a bus accident while vacationing in Ghana. We're still in the middle of trying to find her and bring her back to the states. I dug up this old cartoon I made about her. You should be able to click on the thumbnail to view a larger version.