Remembering My Uncle Edwin

All Soul's Day. Every time this day arrives only one dearly departed comes to mind. My Uncle Edwin. He was my mom's brother who died in 1985 at the age of 35 due to complications of pneumonia. He died young.  Almost the same age as I am now. But rather than dwell on the sadness of his fate, I choose to remember him with fondness.

My Uncle Edwin was gay. And like most gay men (think Queer Eye for the Straight Guy) he was a person of good taste. He was a stylish man, with stylish tastes. He was always fashionably dressed. He listened to pop, R & B and jazz music and had a passion for Hollywood films and American TV shows.

He lived with my family when I was still in elementary. Perhaps, for most of my childhood, he was there. One of my fondest memories of my uncle was during the early 80's when we would sit and watch tv together. While my dad and other uncles were into PBA and Fernando Poe,Jr, we were into Charlie's Angels, Three's Company, and Little House on the Prairie. While my mom or uncles would take me to watch Tito,Vic & Joey and Chiquito films, my Uncle Edwin would take me to watch Superman II. I remember someone picked his pocket in the moviehouse then, and we had to hitch a ride home on a public bus.

Though we may not look alike, (he was tall and lanky, while I'm short and frumpy), I take after him. We have the same tastes in music and films. (He taught me to listen to Mellow Touch and KB 89.1 ) We have a penchant for drawing. (He is the only one in my family, aside from myself, who can draw), plus we are both quiet and animated at the same time.

He was a man of style. He used to cut and style my hair and gave me fashion advice. Suffice it to say, when I was growing up, he was the "cool" uncle. In fact, he was the coolest person I know.

It has been twenty years since he died. I miss him saying 'flanggana' (swardspeak for 'yes') when he agrees with me. And the way he calls his friends 'jokla' over the phone. I miss the times when I would help him clean the house to the tune of disco music. (Imagine polishing the floor with a coconut husk to the tune of Funky Town). Perhaps, if he was alive, we would be both crazy over Desperate Housewives and Sex and the City. We would be painting the town red. He would perhaps be my personal hairstylist and I'd always get the perfect haircut because I would not hesitate in arguing with him in order to achieve the perfect look.

Come to think of it. He is the only person outside my nuclear family that interests me. When he died, I lost interest in mingling with my other "kamag-anaks". And they didn't particularly get me, actually. Most of them are not a multi-dimensional as my Uncle Edwin. 

I hope he is in a happy place.

You are sorely missed, Uncle Edwin.

Wherever you may be. 

*first posted in an old blog on November 3, 2005