Till death do us part
“I’m dying.”
I was not prepared to hear those words. Being a widow in my late 20s or early 30s was unfathomable. While I knew that the chances of my partner dying before me were quite high given our age gap of more than three decades, I was not ready for the truth. My head wanted to explode, my arms were heavy, and my chest crumpled into itself.
The phone line did not go silent. We continued talking. I asked him if the doctor’s diagnosis was right. He told me he already got a second opinion and the prognosis was no different. I wanted the entire universe to hear us and see us; I wanted the universe to feel my anger.
But I couldn’t. I was at a public park surrounded by the sprawling shops in the heart of BGC. It was nearly 8 p.m., nearly midnight in his place, and I still had to catch the bus to get home. So I put on a brave face until we said our good nights and I love you, and I reached home.
That night, I cried myself to sleep. I knew when I said yes to being with him that this time may come but I guess nothing could prepare me for the moment. I truly love him and I was not ready to even entertain the idea that we might have to face death in the next five to eight years.
Still, I like to believe that the universe hears us from time to time—my visa got approved the next day and for the first time, we celebrated Christmas in his home country. It was consoling but at the same time, it felt like there was a countdown on our entire relationship. His diagnosis was a glaring reminder that some things are not just meant to last.
Love sometimes comes in different forms. At 23, I found love with him. While we have a very noticeable and glaring age difference, we balance each other out. I tend to be feisty and sometimes easily overwhelmed, he tends to be more calm and steady. He watched “Oppenheimer” overseas while I queued for “Barbie” in an all-pink outfit. We listen to each other rave about “Legally Blonde” and Pink Floyd—and in a way, we get to know more about each other.
Despite being opposites in a myriad of ways, we also share a lot of interests. I remember during the first months of being together when I caught him listening to a podcast about Das Kapital. “You read Marx?” I asked. This then led to us discovering how we both have the same dislikes and passions.
Over the last few years, we have tried to find a way to settle together and even get married. However, we both have to be pragmatic. The salaries in Manila were not as competitive as his salary overseas and after his diagnosis, it would be more prudent for him to get treatment overseas and for me to stay in Manila.
“I do not want you to be a widow before the age of 35 in a country far from your home,” he said.
I wanted to argue with him. I am young and ready to leave my career so I can take care of him.
Perhaps it is the difference in our cultures, but he was adamant that I pursue my career. The 30s are a time for people to reach their goals and dreams, he said. It was at that moment that I realized how his love is unselfish. I still help him in ways I can—supporting him, caring for him when we spend the holidays together, and holding his hand in this ordeal.
I can only hope that I add a little bit of light to his life.
He has shown me how love is supportive and grounding. I had my fair share of relationships that went awry but with him, I am more happy, more calm, more confident. He has given me the space to grow into the woman I could be. I became more comfortable in my skin and my sexuality. I settled into building a career and started painting more.
It has been three years. Our relationship had its fair share of ups and downs. We have learned to weather the storms but more importantly, we are learning to be still in the calm. To accept that there are some things that we cannot change and to have the courage to change the things that we can—the “Serenity Prayer” has been a guide in our relationship. The first time I told him the first few verses, he shared how he heard it as well a few decades back. Since then, whenever there are problems, we try to discern and move forward.
On our last holiday together, he told me about the “Summer of the Seventeenth Doll,” an Australian play about a couple who shared their holidays for 16 years only for the relationship to fall apart in the 17th year when the man asked the woman to be his wife and reality with all its challenges crept into them. In a way, it mirrors our relationship. I am aware that each time we fly to see each other to live out a few weeks and months of domestic bliss, we are both living a fantasy—one day, death will eventually catch up on us and we will have to part ways.
Right now, there is love. It is not the most conventional, but it is more than enough. I will still never be ready to be left behind but when that happens and I have to move forward, I hope to have the grace to carry on his love and share this love with the people I meet.
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Clare Mercado, 25, is a teacher from Makati.
