Things my Uncle taught me

The year was 1999. My only issue in life was having the best grades. And I had them: Top 3 in class. Not bad. 

And then, these harsh words: “That is still not your best. You haven’t reached your potential, yet.”

That was my Uncle George Medina's remark. He was never satisfied. He had high expectations and it was so exhausting to catch up to them. I hated him for that. Admittedly, I still hated him occasionally. He was not the kindest guy. He introduced me to that so-called tough love. My 12-year-old self couldn’t understand. 

He was frustrated that I was never proactive, that I had poor geographical skills, that I was incapable of many things. In fact, he was frustrated with everybody, because nobody was as good as he was. He was very clever, astute, and sharp, always two steps ahead. 

I did not realize that the tough love he gave me would be the very foundation of my being. 

TOUGH LOVE

I've often reflected that the strongest kind of love is combined with hate. Isn't it a potent mix of emotions, loving and hating a person at the same time? This was what I felt for Uncle. 

I hated him for being rude, for saying the harshest words, for blaming everyone except himself. 

But I also loved him for cooking and serving the best food. I loved him for courageously taking the role of being a father when my fucked up biological father left me - us. I loved him for defending me against my harshest critics. I loved him for being so generous. 

I loved him because he was proud of me. So fucking proud of me. Even during the times that I could not be proud of myself. 

BE NON-NEGOTIABLE

Despite the many things people disliked about Uncle, one thing is for sure: he lived his life unapologetically. He lived his truth, albeit we fought over some of it. A lot. He never bothered to explain or justify himself. He also owned his decisions, whether they were right or wrong. 

“Live life with no qualms,” he would just say. 

SAVE FOR THE FUTURE

Uncle was a hardworking man. And he was good with money. He invested his retirement money building apartment houses. He retired early, around his mid-40s. Since then, he would earn more than Php20,000 while relaxing at home, all from the tenants of his houses. He was always prepared, always ready. He was also very good with documents. I can never be as organized as him, but I am doing my best. That's all I can be, for his sake and for mine.

No one is ever prepared for death. Our patriarch, our light, our guide, is gone. Apart from sadness, I feel empty. I feel detached and hurt at the same time. Death, while inevitable and maybe even necessary, is also unkind. 

What are we going to do now? What am I going to do now? 

“Everything is hard until it becomes easy.” I can hear him say.