“I wonder how she’s been doing,” he thought as he typed his sister’s name on the Google search bar one summer day in 2009. “It’s been quite awhile since our last contact.”
A long list of names popped up on his computer monitor. He started to go down the list but got tired halfway through.
“A lot of work!” he grumbled, turning his desk computer off for the day.
His curiosity still burning strong, he went back to refine his search a few days later.
“Hmm…a short list this time,” he mused, a smile forming on his face and his pulse racing a bit.
Patricia Conner
Patricia Connor
Patricia B. O’Connor
Patricia S. O’Connor
“Patricia S. O’Connor, that seems to be my sister,” he said, as he clicked on it to expand.
Patricia S. O’Connor Obituary (2007)
“Wait…is that my sister?”
He pushed his face close to the monitor, scrutinizing each word on the screen.
Patricia S. O’Connor,
April 3, 1937 – July 5, 2007,
passed away in her sleep.
Born in Iloilo City, Philippines,
Pat earned her degree in…
“Oh, my God! THAT is my sister!”
His eyes turned blurry with tears as the emotions welled up within him. He turned off his computer, not bothering to read the rest. He paced around the house, tears getting warmer as they rolled down his face.
It was in December 1970 when he saw her again, 10 years after she left for the United States.
“Toto Raoul! What a surprise!” she exclaimed, embracing him at the door. “We knew you were in Illinois but didn’t expect you showing up today.”
“Rona let me in without asking for any identification,” he answered. “I guess she found me trustworthy,” He laughed.
“Oh, my! You have grown!”
”And you haven’t changed, still bubbly as ever!” he replied, being tight-lipped about her gaining weight and looking more matronly.
It was their first Christmas together in the United States, prompting succeeding annual celebrations. He and his sister reminisced about the good old days. The bond between them seemed just as strong as it was prior to her departure for the United States. She had always cared for him being her favorite among the siblings, his feelings for her undiminished. He enjoyed the company of his sister’s husband who allowed him to cut his fine Irish hair and was very appreciative of the outcome. He doted on his nieces and nephew, Natalia, Cherise, Phil, and especially the eldest, Rona, for being quite mature for her age and very loving of her siblings.
The years rolled along and with them the changes. The Christmas visits became more routine, the novelty having worn off.
“Patricia made me cry. She complained about my favoring you over her. She complained about my not coming to the United States to help raise her kids,” their mother’s letter to him showed. “She wondered why there were festivities when you came to visit and none when she came. I tried to tell her that you were the one who made everything possible. Even then, she continued with her aggravation.”
Their mother’s distress soured his feelings for his sister. It was bad enough that still unpaid were the $800 she borrowed from him when he was still a student and then the $5,000 a few years later but for her to get their mom upset broke the camel’s back.
He stopped celebrating the Christmas season with her. The letters and the phone calls became infrequent till none occurred for decades.
“Was I wrong in terminating the contact with her?” he asked himself. “But…she still could have maintained some communication with me,” he reasoned, hoping to minimize the guilt. “Would have I been able to provide some solace when his brother-in-law passed away? Would have I made my nieces and nephew happier on their birthdays, graduations, and marriages? Would have I made the births of my great nephews and great nieces more celebratory?”
Eager to know how the decades treated them, he went back to search for details about the kids his sister left behind. Fortunately, information about them was available, Rona being at the top of the list with her address and phone number.
“I wonder if she’d remember me,” he thought as he dialed the number, clearing his throat and gulping to maintain his composure.
“Hello,” a pleasant female voice responded.
“Hello! Uh…you may not be the right person, but I am trying to…”
“Uncle Raoul?”
“Yes, it’s me!” His jaw dropped, his upper body jolted back, and his breathing stopped.
“Yes, I still remember you! How could I not remember? There is no other uncle like Uncle Raoul.” She paused to collect her breath. “I was 12 when you last saw us. I remember you making canapés with crackers topped with apple slices shaped like birds the last Christmas you were with us. The patience and care you put into taking portraits of Natalia, Cherise, Phil, and me still very clear in my mind.” She laughed. “How have you been?”
“I…I’ve been fine,” the words eking out of his tight throat as he continued to reel from the immediate recognition. “How about you?”
“Oh, Natalia and I are both married with each of us having 2 grown kids. Cherise and Phil are in college.”
“That is nice!” he said, pausing for a second. “I saw your mom’s obituary on the internet a week ago.”
“Yes, she passed away in her sleep.”
“Uh… uh…” he stammered and after mustering the courage, he continued, “How come I wasn’t notified?”
“We tried to call you, but your phone number got changed.”
“Yes, but I continued to work at the same hospital,” he countered.
“Sorry, Uncle Raoul.” She paused as if to gather her thoughts. “Somehow we felt that you didn’t want to have anything to do with us anymore.”
“Did your mom ever think of us?”
“Yes. Her last few days at the hospital were heart-wrenching. She cried, calling all your names.”
His lips quivered on his contorting face, his stomach curling against his diaphragm.
“Yes, Uncle Raoul. She felt guilty. I’ve goaded her into communicating with family especially with Grandma.” Her tone shifting, she proceeded, “But, the love and comfort we showered her made the final moments quiet and peaceful. We believed that she was happy in the end.”
“Aww…” he responded, his shallow breathing broken by silent sobs.
“Here’s my address and e-mail should you come and visit.”
“Thank you, Rona,” he muttered under his breath. “And…please give my hugs to Natalia, Cherise, and Phil.”
“I will! It was great to again hear from you after all these years, Uncle Raoul. Love you!”
His sister’s endearing call echoed in his ears as he returned the phone to its cradle.
_______
*Toto = a little boy; it is endearing if used as a vocative case and especially if it precedes the name of the intended.
