para kay amadeus romanensis

It was a day of days.

Chairs were lined along the perimeter of the dining room. The table was packed with food from pork barbeques, hotdog on sticks, to spaghetti, majah blanca, ice creams, and sarsaparilla. Birthday presents were piled up on another table at one of the other corners of the room. Everyone there was already merrily singing happy birthday, looking with anticipating eyes focused on the celebrant. Mama was ready to take the picture with the instamatic camera. Papa was somewhere among the party guests, singing too, and probably with a pale pilsen on one hand. I was accompanying the birthday boy, of course, flanking his right-side acting not only as his elder brother but as his most trusted chum and best pal.

Rom was ultimately excited and happy being able to celebrate his special day with family and friends. He was a dashing debonair in his short-sleeved barong with matching kiddie shorts, and his hair was neatly combed using Papa's pomade. We were both hoisted on chairs at one side of the table overlooking the cake. During the singing, Rom looked blankly at the people around him, intently waiting for the cue to blow the candle on his Goldilocks cake, which was about to come any second. Then finally, it was time. A few of the people near the table, including Mama, were telling Rom it was time to blow the candle. And so, with a modest gulp of air, he blew the candle and eventually extinguished the small flame, while everybody erupted in cheers and applause. It was already a blur afterwards, but needless to say, the party continued. It was a momentous occasion indeed.

Years later, the pictures during that party resurfaced while Rom and I rummaged through old photo albums. We were reminiscing, I think, on our childhood days. From the pictures I reckoned he was turning 4 at the time. The pictures weren't really that many since these were taken back in the day when film was very precious and shots were reserved for the best or required moments. But there was this one photograph, which exceptionally captured but the briefest of moments and yet spoke like it was a silent movie. It encapsulated that moment when the candle was being blown. The picture showed that while Rom was still drawing wind into his lungs preparing for his assault on the candle flame, I was already bent low, blowing mightily at the candle as it was evident from the direction of my face and my bulging cheeks that were full of air. It was not only obvious that I blew the candle from under the birthday boy--and that I did it in his presence--but I took the one moment that was meant only for the birthday celebrant on his day of days. We ended up in a laughing fit although I think Rom felt a little slighted that I took what was supposedly one of his glories years ago.

The truth of the matter was that Papa and Mama wanted the both of us to blow the candle. When we were kids, our parents always had their way of making us share almost everything. This time, unbelievably, we were both blowing the candle on Rom's birthday. So they put me beside Rom, and I just did as I was told (yeah, right!). There's injustice there for sure, and I'm even more sure you couldn't imagine such a thing. But Rom didn't take it seriously like an unforgivable childhood sin of mine. Did he resent me? Maybe. I don't know. But I'm sure he was never bitter towards me. We actually laugh more when we think of it now rather than him bearing childish grudges on me for that seemingly foul play.

Unfortunately, we seemed to have lost or misplaced that photograph along with all the other photo albums and memorabilia our family had due to the frequent number of times we've transferred residences in Manila and around Baguio. It's a loss really. And it pains me to think that while we both committed the photograph to mind, it will only live vividly in our memories and no longer beyond that.

For me, nevertheless, that moment, although forever enclosed in that photograph, continually reminds me of how much our parents wanted us to treat each other. I remember Mama always said that if one of us was in need and the other was living lavishly in plenty, the latter ought to always help the other weaker brother get up again on his feet. They wanted us to practice sharing what we had equally-- hating kapatid--like chocolate goodies, for instance. They wanted us to refrain from fighting against each other since we only had each other to count on, especially when their time on this earth was up. My parents taught us--pinangaralan nila kami--that we should always look out for each other. In short, they wanted us to be the best of friends.

I remember that first time Rom and I ever commuted on a jeepney by ourselves. We were going to Greenbelt 1 in Ayala to see "The Land Before Time" and we had to rely on each other to get us there. Both of us were genuinely nervous that we kept our P50 food allowance and jeepney fare inside our shoes to prevent us from ever losing it. When we had to get it, we had to sequester ourselves in a restroom cubicle first so we could take what we needed out of our shoes. During that same movie premiere, we won a free pizza from Pizza Hut ticket raffle probably because we were one of the first people to arrive.

We surely were partners-in-crime when we were kids. We had a game plan whenever we raided my Lola Charing's biscuit container behind the door to her room. At the success of every cookie raid, we divided the spoils bewteen us. It was much the same during our stint as peeping toms--while one was at the hole, the other was on the lookout so we wouldn't get caught. Then we changed places after a few minutes (although I believe there were times Rom endeavored on solo flights without me). Haha, childhood discoveries were so much fun when you had an accomplice.

There were also times when we were at each other's throats, but it was nothing that couldn't be resolved by a few minute hiatus on talking. Sometimes I'd assert my right as alpha male and swindle his share of chocolates, or pick out the best Lego parts, or insist on my being the lead and his being the infamous archenemy in our role-plays and 2-player computer games. If we did have fist-fights, we had a spoken agreement of hitting everything except the face so we could keep our good looks and it wouldn't come out obvious (like black-eyes or swollen lips) that we were in a fight. And in all fights, it was only a matter of time before we were the best of friends again. But we weren't really troublemakers. In fact, we resigned that we were really good, harmless boys.

During our family's financial crisis in the 90s, we stuck together and relied on each other all the more. There were times during our college days when we only had P10 left to both our names. And to get us through the day, we bought pandesal a few blocks from our dormitory and ate 5 pieces each straightaway on our way back. We even had to send ourselves through college mostly. He had to work a part-time job at a local video store while I relied on scholarship grants and student assistant work. We both knew we had to make it through, and surely that meant we had to get our acts together. Those were tough times. Fortunately enough, we did make it. And whenever we look back at those times now and how far we've come, we'd relish the fact that we made it through, and still continuing to push ourselves forward. We even made a tradition of holding year-end talks at Starbucks since 2000, assessing how we did that year and then putting together our plans for the following year.

I'm sure there are many other instances where we had fortified our friendship and bond through the years--some far more worthy of exemplification and others just too humiliating even to recall to mind. But if it were just a matter of complying with my parents wishes, I'm led to believe we didn't disappoint them. We may have failed sometimes in the past, diversified in our interests and differed in principles--but we're still here for each other.

This post, I've conceded, would never be enough to commemorate every moment of that great friendship--moreso, honor the man who is Amadeo Roman for who he has been in my life. But today, on his 27th birthday, I remember that friendship for what it means to me and how much I treasure it. And that pangaral that my parents taught us, while I may have followed it just out of obedience then, I commit to it on my own this day in honor of that friendship--and surely until we are both only memories ourselves.


--Rom, mabuhay ka sa kaarawan mo!

[Photo credit: Rom De Alban]