My uncle Oscar Atega must have inherited Lolo Belo's gift for machines. He may be quiet and seem unanalytical about the things that he does, but is actually very analytical. He has the mind of an engineer that seems to think of what effect one action does to another and how an array of motions make up a whole system or movement.
This is an update to an old blog I did in 2015. Uncle Oca is now back in Stockton, California, United States with his children Roxanne, Rochelle, Rhoel and their families since 2023. He was diagnosed with liver cyrrhosis and the impact on his body is nothing short of devastating.
He is almost skin and bones, and now gets relief from morphine.
His daughter and carer Roxanne said that when he arrived, he was given medical marijuana to help ease the pain. He did not want to eat and sleeping was hard.
His sisters, my 90-year old Mama and Auntie Ansel, both also nursing their own old age concerns, are both worried about their youngest brother, but could do nothing but pray.
Uncle Oca is very dear to us. He is like an elder brother to my older brothers, and we look up to him as a hip, cool and easy to approach member of the family who is always there to listen-- because he is actually a man of few words.
We all know that Uncle Oca is not without faults, but we love him so much nonetheless. He has been a pillar in the Atega family and he is one with genuine love to give. In fact, he has always had a lot of love to give.
We were told that Uncle's bossom buddies, Blyde and Yoyoy, have since passed on but he does not know anything about it. When he left the Philippines for treatment in the US, both were fine still. They have more or less the same ailments. It made me think about my own husband's sickness-- two of his closest friends in Pililla also died of the same illness.
So that got me thinking, even in situations like this, God really has plans -- letting you meet friends, putting you in a family that cares or keeps or maybe even neglects you, and as life goes full circle, you all go back to a certain kind of starting point -- be in an illness, a common occurrence, or person in your life, that keeps you connected on this earth and beyond.
I know that Uncle Oca does not have too long a time to be with us anymore, but I am happy that he is back with his children whom he loves in his own quiet, unique way. And America is a second home, the one where he went back to heal, rest and love. But Cabadbaran in the Philippines will have the biggest space in his heart for all of us.
We miss you, Uncle Oca. Just hang in there. Let us hope for miracles, but believe in the will of God who knows the best for us.
We love you so much, Uncle Oca. We long to kiss your hand and tell stories of past adventures and misadventures, while waiting for your deadpan punchlines.
