It has taken me a while to sit down and write my tribute about my
brother, Cesar, or Toto, as we call him. I have accepted the fact that he has passed,
and even though I am comforted that he is no longer suffering, the ache in my
heart remains.
His family (wife, Ronilda, and daughters, Camille and Charlene) is doing well, but I know they still cry at times. Who wouldn’t? I still see him in my mind and feel him in my heart.
In the family of two sisters and three brothers born to Cezar and Marina Cerrudo (both deceased), he was the eldest boy. The quietest one, but as he'd shown with his Master's degree in Economics from De La Salle University and his job as a computer programmer at the Philippine Central Bank, he was also smart. He immigrated with his family to New York in 1998.
We are thankful to have been there at his bedside at the last
minute. He fought a good fight, both as a dialysis patient for 5 years and in
his last valiant fight in the ICU at Queens Hospital. He passed away on June 22, 206 at the age of 65. He would have been 66 years old on July 14.
My sister-in-law Nel spoke about her husband, "I want to thank God for the strength He continuously gives us... I just want to mention some good traits of Cesar, especially to those who do not know him personally. I want to tell everyone that my husband was a good man... kind-hearted. For 34 years of our marriage, I have never known anyone who was wronged or cheated by him. Not only was he a good man, but he was also a good cook! He cooked pancit and spaghetti better than me."
Grieving is an individual process, and for our mental health, we cope differently. My catharsis is writing about it. I choose to remember him during the good times.
This is how I will remember my brother Cesar. I will
remember that naughty smile, always a smirk, with his twinkling eyes, as if he
was getting ready with his dad jokes. Corny, they were, but sometimes, his
deadpan delivery made us smile.
I will remember that his favorite word to annoy the family was
Secret” when we were asking questions. So, whenever he tried to eavesdrop while
we were giggling about make-believe gossip, we told him, “Secret.”
I will remember how he loved to sing karaoke, with his two
favorite songs by Martin Nievera and Marco Sison. He always scored 100% in karaoke;
I believe it’s because he sang those songs loudly.
I will remember how we both cheered for the New York Mets,
him carrying his passion for them through the very end. We chose his funeral
flowers, orange and blue, to represent his love for the Mets.
I will remember how he cooked his chicken adobo ad nauseum. In fairness, he cooked really well. I will remember the quiet ways he loved his family; his love language was food, so he was the cook of the house, until he couldn’t anymore.
I will remember how he tried to perform his duties as a
deacon and as a group overseer in the Iglesia ni Cristo, until he couldn’t because of his chronic kidney
condition requiring dialysis.
I was two years older than him, and, like regular siblings, we always had our petty fights, trying to outsmart each other. I will miss that, but I will not miss how he came home after dialysis feeling weak, dizzy, and nauseous. I wish I was a little more patient, a little kinder, a little more caring, all the "shoulda, coulda, woulda", but I hope he knows that we all love him.
We comfort ourselves with the thought that he fought the good fight, finished the race, and kept the faith. As we navigate our lives without him, those left behind will need to take care of one another. I know that the Almighty God will give us the strength.
"Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves
a memory no one can steal."- Richard Puz
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