I can't believe I've been in the Philippines 3 times this year

Uncle Bobby and Auntie Elsa came to visit on the day we left. Uncle Lando and Uncle Oca drove my mommy and I to the airport. Tito Clody met us there to give us our plane tickets. On the plane, I watched Clash of the Titans, slept soundly across 4 vacant aisle seats, watched Robin Hood, and clung onto the walls like Spider-Man as the woman next to me got knocked on her ass when the plane experienced such turbulence that everyone thought we were going to crash. Uncle Mon and Auntie Aida picked us up from the airport.

Stuff I discovered for the first time:

• Apparently, dad was a councilman in his village of Tarlac and even served as acting mayor for a few months during the 70s! Holy crap, my only memory of him regarding work was being a mail man and hating it! But those were his later years.
• Leyser (what an interesting name), our first gay relative, had spent a lot of time with dad.
• I have a little cousin named Camille. The elders make fun, saying she doesn't have a boyfriend because she hangs out with gay guys. I have no idea why Camille tried to introduce me to one of her gay friends in a suggestive way. I guess she thinks I'm gay. [Shrug.]
• I have a cousin named Glen who's a seaman in Miami, Florida. He shared that dad actually paid for his schooling. (Why the fuck didn't I see any of that money?) Mental note: Must get in contact with Glen since he offered to hook up a discount for a cruise trip.
• The village testifies that it was common for dad to give away free money to starving village people. (Again, why the fuck didn't I see any of that money?)
• I have a cousin named Clifford who ate with dad at Saisaki in what would be dad's last meal.

CLIFFORD: When you graduated from film school, your dad made this whole town celebrate. We were all so fucking wasted. People were getting stoned.

(You know what that means? A town thousands of miles away partied harder than I did for my college graduation.)

Then Clifford tried to pressure me into reading a speech in Tagalog for dad's funeral. But I told him I would run away by any means necessary.

JO JO (Dad's friend): I don't care if you're a body builder and I'm fat. I will try to chase you and bring you back!

It's expensive to die in the Philippines. A vigil lasts for a few nights unlike in America where it's only one night. You have to cater every visitor's breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day. And traditionally, you don't sleep on the last night, staying awake until after the funeral. It's hard being Filipino sometimes.

As hundreds of people marched to the cemetery, the municipal office lowered the Philippine flag at half mast for dad (since, again, he was apparently a councilman in the 70s), which I guess is supposed to be a beal deal in terms of flags.