Philippino blogger quirky said goodbye to Alexander Santiago, 21.  

3:42 pm - paying respects

after dinner at sentro, din and i went to AR's wake at chirst the king. we both couldnt bring ourselves to look at him. we instead paid our last respects an effective 2 feet away from the coffin. it was enough to see the inside of the coffin, but not close enough to see him. we said our prayers and goodbyes while alternately looking at his smiling 8 x 10 graduation picture and the coffin. it was hard to beleive he was in the coffin.

most, if not all, the students - ateneo undergrad batchmates, ateneo law classmates, friends, etc.. were sitting around or standing, and talking outside, sitting on monobloc chairs underneath the street lamplights and the stars. inside, witht he coffin, and probably the gma 7 camera, were the politicians and old people. if i remember right, i saw senator sotto, senator loi estrada [plaster of paris make up] and speaker de venecia there. miriam santiago went around to thank all the students, friends etc... who had come to visit alex. it would have been nice, had ther not been that intrusive gma 7 cameraman and reporter following her around. [the reporter was even interviewing people at the wake. some of Ar's friends and blockmates didn't find it agreeable and would either leave when the camera and reporter came along, or they'd flat out turn decline to eb interviewed.]

judging from the number of people i recognized from school.. i think alex would have been happy. he had a lot of friends. there were a lot of people who had pretty nice memories of him.

it's ironic how such a sad event brings people who havent seen each otehr since graduation or since senior year finals week together. i went with dindin, who i hadn't seen since midterms week, and i ran into ateneo batchmates i hadn't seen since the weeks before graduation. i guess, in some weird way, we have to thank alex for the reconnections.

current mood: contemplative
current music: bringing on the heartache - mariah carey

[aka obituaries a la blog]

Randy Paul recalls his good friend on the second anniversary of the death. Both Randy and Kimson Plaut were musicians, shared a love of Latin Jazz, Brazil, families, and a warped and wicked sense of humor.

I don't put a lot of faith in psychic phenomena, but a couple of days after Kimson's death, I was at the Brazilian Consulate here in New York getting a new visa for an upcoming trip to Brazil. I ran into another American who was married to a Brazilian and we started chatting while we were both waiting. I asked him where his wife was from and he replied São Paulo State. I then asked where in São Paulo and he said Ubatuba. A rush of emotions swirled in my head. I suppose it was ultimately just a coincidence, but I'm not so sure. Not many people live in Ubatuba, indeed, out of all the Brazilians I have met, I had never met anyone from Ubatuba, nor have I since. My friend, Susan Davis-Pereira is convinced that Kimson was trying to send me a message. I just remember parting company with this gentleman and for the first time in two days I felt like some of the shock of Kimson's passing had been attenuated. Two years later I still find myself thinking when I hear a joke or an astute comment or come across a musician previously unknown to me, that I should give Kimson a call.

Writers ask about audience. Perhaps when you imagine them as fully and vividly as a lost friend or parent, perhaps then you have defined them, incorporated them into yourself, and projected yourself upon them. Their voices ring true. Their smiles and hissy fits and ... presence ... let you speak to them. And for them.

[aka obituaries a la blog]