Void

I am writing because I’m confused. I am writing because I can’t wrap my head around the idea of a loss. I am writing, hoping that spitting out these words might make it more real, and then it’ll finally hit me, and then I can start accepting.

I met Ate Mags when I celebrated my 21st birthday in La Union last year. She exuded a presence you cannot ignore. She was a ball of sunshine, the life of the party, someone you cannot not love. I distinctly remember what she told me when everyone was teasing me to extend my stay in LU…

Me: “I have to go home.”
Ate Mags: “But this is your home.”

Why go home so soon, Ate Mags? Of all people, you. I don't know where I got the idea, but I think a  lot will agree with me here: I've always thought you were invincible. You were the type of person who lived your life without any excuses. You make plans and you do them. Do you remember the title of the mixtape I gave you? Kiss of Life. I've always imagined you turning 70, with a bottle of JD in one hand and a cigarette in another, still putting those teenagers to shame with your undying lust for life. Why go home so soon?

I never told you this, but I looked up to you. I'll never forget your snippets of advice when it comes to my career in advertising and my questionable love life then. You always seem to know what to do. You always seem to have your shit together. It's amazing how unbelievably optimistic you are, especially when it comes to love. How passionate you are in your job; how you always find time for your friends on top of your crazy work schedule; how you make us feel old with your childlike energy and enthusiasm. You are indeed happiness on steroids.   

We know you lived your life to the fullest, and you died in your happy place, but that does not make it easier for us, does it? 

I am already dreading the next MSA officers meeting, the next MSA event, because it is impossible not to feel the void you left. 

I know you’re up there, surfing perfect waves with your tall, dark and funny boylets. I hope you went knowing how much you are loved. 

I’ll see you when I see you.

All the luster of your bones, those arms that held you strong.

Disclaimer: This is not a blog entry about surf. I am not here to tell you about the wave conditions last weekend, or how stoked everyone was. This is an entry about a feeling, a primal feeling that I was reminded of last Saturday. This is not a blog entry about surf. You have been warned.

Manong Lemon

The forecast last weekend was 5-6 feet if I'm not mistaken. For a beginner like me, seeing these figures is intimidating as it is, but it's a whole new different story when you paddle out and meet the ocean.

Hi, ocean.

It wasn’t until I reached the lineup when something dawned on me. At first I thought it was the coffee kicking in, or the cold water against my rashguard-less skin. It took me a while before finally recognizing it. Fear. Primal, gripping, cold fear. It’s not that I haven’t been afraid before. It’s just that I know fear in the context of the abstract – fear of failure, that something will not go my way, that I’ll never have it figured out. But that Saturday morning session was different. As someone who's used to surfing small waves, head-high to overhead sets were enough to scare me out of my wits. For the first time in a long time, I felt fear for a real, physical, literally in my face danger. 

Jeff Dela Torre

I kept on paddling out whenever a see a set coming because of fear. I kept on bailing whenever I’m about to drop on a wave because of fear. I kept on staying on the outside – where I felt a little safer, but where my paddling power is not enough to catch a wave. The heavy rains, the occasional thunder, the perpetual gloom and the fact that I am using a much thinner board did not help either. “Why the hell am I here”, “why did I even start surfing”, “I should have been at home reading a new novel” were just some of the things running in my head that time.

Jay-R Esquivel

In between sets, I found ways to amuse myself. Watching Tito Phil and Kalua surf those waves so effortlessly was jaw-dropping. The sight of a thousand raindrops kissing the ocean, the beauty of a breaking wave and offshore wind, Karla and Tito Tonet with me in the lineup – yes, not every session will leave you stoked, but surfing is definitely one of the most amazing things a person can and should experience.

Benits!

Sunday morning gave us more humane and forgiving waves. I decided to stay a little more on the inside, decided to paddle for “bangon na bangon” waves (since I realized they are soft and they break slowly), decided to be a little braver than the day before. I was rewarded with a couple of long lefts, nothing photo-worthy, just enough to make me smile in the lineup. 

Bilmar. Two years bro! ;)

I know I have a LOT of things to work on – stronger paddling, right timing, faster pop ups. But at least now, I know something that I did not know last week. I cannot do all these without conquering fear first.

Shaken and still,
Miccah