Please say hi

Once in a while, a young nephew who has lost his wife writes a piece that touches you and you decide to use it as your Saturday column.  This is such a piece.  I hope you understand why I decided to publish it.

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By Robert Estella

I walked out of my hotel.  It was 4:45 a.m. and pitch dark as I began walking. Five months of thoughts, prayers, and planning led me to this point but I didn’t know how to end it. How do I put the final piece in place? I felt restless and sorrowful but determined to finish what I came here to do.

 There were few people out in this rustic town. Roosters were crowing.  Crickets were still chirping. There were a few dogs on the street and behind bamboo fences, barking as I walked by.

Off I went walking until the road began to slope down. There was clearly something wrong. Luckily I saw a man walking the other way. I asked him if I was going in the right direction. He said, “No, you went by it awhile ago.” Oh no, I’d have to backtrack. I was already sweating profusely from the uphill climb and the heat and I had forgotten my water bottle. As we walked back together, we were joined by another couple.

I made idle conversation. The couple said they lived in Burbank but he was originally from Palawan, their next destination. She was from Zamboanga. I asked her if she knew Moning Ledesma, my aunt. She said my aunt was her baptismal godmother. You just never know whom you’ll meet in this town!

Finally we were at the stairs we were supposed to climb. There were no signs, just old concrete stairs next to an old basketball court. No wonder I got lost. We thanked the nice gentleman, who worked as a cook in town, and began our climb.

It occurred to me that this couple might give me clarity so I told them why I was here and they obliged. The steps were high and we were not spring chickens any more. At least I wasn’t. We stopped to take pictures and fatigue was setting in quickly. Luckily, there were several rest areas. About a third through our climb, I couldn’t wait any longer. Daybreak was coming quickly and I had to get to the top. Off I went by myself. I knew they would eventually make it but I needed to get there fast. One step at a time I thought to myself. Left, right, left, right...and 45 minutes after I left my hotel, I finally made it up the 724 steps.

 There it was  — the rusting white cross that, for some reason, symbolized my grief ever since we parted. I had only seen it in pictures and on satellite photos but this cross never left my mind. Someone was guiding me to this perfect moment. The tip of the sun in the east was peeking through the distant mountains. I got up here just in time for the sunrise.

But I still needed my perfect ending. I walked around enjoying the beauty and magnificent views, taking pictures and videos along the way. There were seven benches atop so people could sit and marvel and catch their breath after the long hard climb. I chose the bench that offered the best views, opened my backpack and pulled out a small bag that contained Nicole’s remains, held it with both hands to my face. I kissed the bag and soon began crying again.  I had thought of opening the bag and throwing her ashes over the cliff but I couldn’t do it. It just didn’t feel right.

I looked around and behind the cross I saw some steps going up the upper deck, almost like a second viewing area behind the cross. There were not as many people there, no benches, just a cement walk from one end of the cross to the other. There I went. I stood just to the right of the cross and decided this was the place. Through my tears I managed to gently lay her ashes on the ledge over the railing. I would leave her there and let the wind take her. I said a few prayers then decided to just talk to her.

Then I took my pen and wrote just above where I left her ashes:

05/29/2013

RIP Nicole Estella

12/24/2012

As I walked past the front of the cross one last time, I looked up to where I had laid Nicole, put two fingers to my lips and blew her a kiss. I would later see the cross several times.  Each time I would say hello to her.

If any of you are in Coron, please look up at Mt. Tapyas and say hi to Nicole. The best times of her life were spent in the Philippines. I’m sure she’s having a good time now.

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